Chapter 282: I Don

At the shout, Zhou Yun's expression froze for a moment.

His gaze instantly followed the sound.

There stood a figure draped in a blue robe, its edges embroidered with gears, the hood adorned with a red dot—clearly mimicking Doraemon's red nose.

Beneath the hood was a face styled in Macraggean fashion.

Zhou Yun exhaled deeply in relief.

Close call—he'd thought it was Asford from the Cadia 184th.

If it were them, they'd recognize him, and he'd have to spend time reshaping his face to hide his identity.

But most Macraggeans were newly converted to the Saint Doraemon Sect.

Some had been converted by the Cadia 184th, others had spontaneously embraced the faith after learning of Guilliman and Sanguinius's return, and some had turned to it after being rescued by the Doraemon Corps.

But regardless of origin, none of these Macraggeans had ever seen Zhou Yun's face—they venerated only the image of Doraemon as their holy icon. Honestly, Zhou Yun sometimes feared they might manifest something real from their worship.

But Sanguinius assured him he need not worry about them manifesting anything further, as long as they didn't directly worship Zhou Yun himself.

He even suggested Zhou Yun actively guide them, to prevent their faith from straying or being corrupted by other warp entities.

Yet for the past month, Zhou Yun had been busy across battlefields, hauling demonic engines, corrupted war machines, Black Legion corpses, and other tainted relics to sell—no, to cleanse the corruption left by Chaos.

He worked tirelessly, so much so that Grand Master Voldus of the Grey Knights complained Zhou Yun was stealing their job.

So Zhou Yun hadn't yet found time to guide the worship directed at him. Hmm… should he teach them to eat dorayaki as sacrament?

As he pondered, Zhou Yun approached the preaching group.

His gaze shifted slightly toward a patch of ground seemingly outside others' line of sight.

He sensed a blindspot star there, concealing the form of a Space Marine from the Doraemon Corps.

The Astartes assigned to monitor the Saint Doraemon Church noticed Zhou Yun and immediately bowed in salute.

Zhou Yun gave a slight nod in return, then listened to the preacher on stage.

After a while, he grew bored again.

Macraggeans clearly lacked the imaginative flair of Cadia's hive-dwellers—same old drivel about the Primordial Force, the Eternal Dragon, the Chosen of Death, then recounting Zhou Yun's deeds on Asford, on Baal, on Ice Moon Krasus—and that was it.

These weren't events Zhou Yun had personally experienced; he'd heard them repeated so many times they were stale.

The hot wind of Macragge blew, the sun overhead grew blinding, the pale marble structures of the Hera Fortress shimmered under its glare, and with the sermon he'd heard countless times, Zhou Yun felt even more weary.

"Are you bored? You've come to hear others preach about your own deeds?"

A familiar yet subtly altered voice spoke behind him.

"The debates over rituals inside the temple are even more tedious—priests humbly protest every attempt by Guilliman to reduce religious content."

"I suspect they're deliberately provoking the Primarch to become martyrs or something equally absurd."

Zhou Yun turned his head as he spoke.

Then he paused slightly.

Leina stood behind him—this didn't surprise him, as he'd sensed her presence.

What surprised him was her attire.

He'd only ever seen her in gray hemp robes or Cadia's uniform; this was the first time he saw her dressed otherwise.

She wore a pale orange stola-like garment, fashioned from two wide, long pieces of fabric, fastened at the shoulders by a golden brooch carved into a double-headed eagle. The pale orange fabric flowed like water down her body, nearly white under the glaring sun.

Leina had braided her dark-brown hair, letting it hang down over her chest.

If not for the battle scar on her face, she looked exactly like a Macraggean noblewoman.

"The return of the two Primarchs is a grand ceremony. My uniform is worn out, and I had no other clothes, so I bought this Macraggean style."

As she spoke, Leina shifted slightly.

She wore no belt, so the soft fabric drifted freely, just barely revealing her calves and the pale gold Roman sandals wrapped around them.

"The merchant who sold me this said it's a common style among Macraggean noblewomen. I think it's sufficient as ceremonial wear."

Leina had been invited to the ceremony—in fact, she'd been assigned a position near the front, alongside Belisarius Cawl, Grand Master Voldus, Judge Gravex, and the company captains of the Space Wolves and Blood Angels.

It was an honor of the highest rank; upon learning this, she trembled violently and even considered refusing.

But Roboute Guilliman declared this invitation and this position were not merely for Leina.

He demanded she attend as the representative of the Cadia 184th, and indeed of all Cadia, on Macragge.

Even when the 184th were mere thugs on Asford, they fought against the Tyranids.

On Cadia, they fought the Black Legion, facing down Warmaster Abaddon himself.

After Cadia's fall, the 184th protected the Primarch Belisarius Cawl all the way.

On Macragge, the 184th participated in the campaign to reclaim the entire planet.

Add in their alliances with Necrons and Eldar, and the 184th had fought nearly every major faction in the galaxy—except the Tau.

And whether on Asford, Cadia, or Macragge, the 184th's battles had aided the Primarchs' resurrection.

Leina accepted the invitation. She may have felt unworthy of such honor, but she believed the Cadia 184th—and all of Cadia—deserved it.

Still, as he looked at her clothes, Zhou Yun's eyes flickered slightly.

From his aesthetic, the outfit was indeed beautiful—elegant, not vulgar, fitting even among Macraggean nobility.

But Zhou Yun felt her worn Cadia uniform wasn't shabby at all—it surpassed Macraggean ceremonial robes and rivaled even Space Marine power armor.

She'd worn that uniform in Cadia's final battle.

Zhou Yun hesitated briefly. He disliked preaching, so he weighed his words and said simply: "I think your Cadia uniform would be perfect for the ceremony."

Leina froze, as if she'd never considered this.

"But it's so worn—"

She opened her mouth, but the words died before she finished.

She fell silent for less than a second, then gave a slight nod:

"You're right. I'll change back into my Cadia uniform."

"But—"

Leina lifted the hem of her stola slightly, revealing her slender ankles, then turned lightly, glancing back at Zhou Yun with a soft smile:

"But I've never worn anything like this before. Let me wear it just a little longer."

"Walk with me, please?"

Leina's eyes reflected Macragge's sunlight—deep blue, luminous as jade, gazing at Zhou Yun with quiet pleading.

Zhou Yun nodded slightly—not because of her plea, but because he, too, was bored.

He reached into his fourth-dimensional pocket and pulled out a bag of sunflower seeds, handing them to her.

Leina blinked, then puffed out her cheeks in annoyance: "You're treating me like a fool again."

Though she complained, she opened the bag and began eating the seeds.

The two walked along the white marble stairs and corridors of the Hera Fortress. The afternoon sun burned hot, and Guilliman had designed the fortress to hide military practicality beneath ornate aesthetics—walking through it felt dizzying, like navigating a labyrinth.

Fortunately, the fortress now housed many refugees; people crowded every few steps, and vendors lined the paths.

Zhou Yun and Leina bought some Macraggean specialty foods—the taste was surprisingly good.

What amazed Leina most was that Macragge offered many natural foods.

For example, they'd just bought fried fish from a stall—said to be made from small, common stream fish from Macragge's highlands, crunchy as they chewed.

Of course, besides food stalls, others offered different services, such as:

"Oh, young lords, would you like to see the path of your fate?"

As they walked down the street, a plump woman in a deep purple robe called out to them.

She smiled faintly, gesturing for them to look her way:

"I am one of Macragge's most renowned seers—countless noble youths and maidens have found their true loves under my guidance."

She pulled from her robe a gilded mirror, its surface engraved with coiled serpents, yet the reflection was blurred as if rusted.

"Drip a drop of blood onto the mirror, and it will reveal your destined lover."

Hearing the woman's words, Zhou Yun's expression twisted slightly.

"That feels off," Leina whispered.

"Of course it's fucking off," Zhou Yun couldn't help muttering.

Is this really the best Slaanesh's cultists can do?? Their intelligence is this low?? Even Leina noticed something was wrong!

"I don't do Tarot of the Emperor—I don't read it, because it was forged by the Emperor's loyalty."

(End of Chapter)