Chapter 300: West Gaoqi: There

Seeing the sudden price surge of the "Horn," Zhou Yun's expression froze abruptly.

Sixteen hundred million! It was the largest single income he'd ever received in his life, even more than the Star-God shard from the Burner—ten million higher!

"The God's actually pretty decent!" Zhou Yun couldn't help sighing inwardly.

Though he understood this was Slaanesh's attempt to court and appease him, the free money was too good to refuse.

He hurriedly glanced at the "Horn" in his pocket—her body was riddled with cracks, and she had less than six seconds before she exploded in place.

Zhou Yun immediately focused his awareness on the final option.

【Sell? Or execute parenting program: juvenile behavioral correction and re-education?】

Sell or parent? That was the question.

Zhou Yun had already witnessed the power of Fat Tiger the Demon; though sixteen hundred million was a fortune, he was now allied with the Adeptus Mechanicus' Five Hundred Worlds, where even the first batch of goods would bring in billions—sixteen hundred million suddenly seemed insignificant compared to a new demon's value.

Raise a new demon, born from Slaanesh's avatar—Jingxiang? Xiao Fu?

Jingxiang represented beauty and love, both domains of Slaanesh; Xiao Fu represented luxury and ostentation—also domains of Slaanesh.

Zhou Yun felt either could be possible.

He steadied his mind and directly selected the parenting program to perform juvenile behavioral correction and re-education on the "Horn."

Instantly, the Horn's body within the fourth-dimensional pocket swelled violently, her flesh and blood disintegrating, her soul, will, and existence peeled away layer by layer; Slaanesh's warp energy surged within Zhou Yun's fourth-dimensional pocket like a violent tide.

Pure warp energy rose and fell, slowly stretched out within the pocket, transforming into millions of intricate threads that intertwined and shifted against the dark void.

Zhou Yun stared at the spectacle, waiting for the next change.

Then… nothing happened.

Zhou Yun stared blankly at the mass of warp-energy threads endlessly twisting within the fourth-dimensional pocket.

Parenting Program: Juvenile Behavioral Correction and Re-education Progress: 36%

No additional parenting materials available.

So… parenting produced a ball of thread?

Zhou Yun stared at the threads in the fourth-dimensional pocket, baffled.

He noticed the threads seemed to be shifting constantly in some elegant, fluid manner—as if an invisible, masterful hand were weaving them into beautiful, intricate forms.

What the hell did this parenting produce?

Why didn't it even form a concrete shape?

As Zhou Yun pondered, he suddenly saw a massive shadow engulf his body.

Zhou Yun turned sharply—and saw

Guilliman's face coated in frost, his hair frozen stiff by the vacuum's cold, his cheeks flushed red.

Guilliman had been infected by the toxin released by Slaanesh; clearly, he had just overcome it and regained mobility.

One could only say the Primarch's physical constitution was truly formidable—he'd neutralized the toxin forged from Slaanesh's own body in mere minutes.

The clash between the Horn and Sanguinius had been too swift; Guilliman hadn't yet shaken off the toxin when the battle ended.

Seeing Guilliman's frost-covered face, Zhou Yun felt a flicker of embarrassment.

Because time had been too tight and he'd been too far from Guilliman, he hadn't had a chance to activate the adaptation lamp for him.

Guilliman, holding his breath, quickly signed a few gestures to Zhou Yun.

But… Zhou Yun had no training in sign language and couldn't understand what Guilliman was trying to convey.

"He's asking: Did Fergusson's side get resolved? What exactly happened just now? And can you open a portal back to Macragge right away?"

Sanguinius said softly beside him.

The air around them had been entirely consumed, nearly a vacuum—but Sanguinius could still speak, clearly through some miraculous psychic ability.

Zhou Yun made a gesture, signaling Guilliman to wait.

His personal record for holding breath in vacuum was thirty minutes; a few minutes shouldn't be a problem.

And Zhou Yun still had one thing to deal with.

He walked toward the Exalted Avatar, who was somersaulting endlessly in the corner of the damaged cabin.

This Exalted Avatar had been cursed by Slaanesh, forced to somersault eternally in place.

Yet even so, his gaze toward Zhou Yun remained blank and bewildered.

Khorne's will resided within him, and Khorne had always monitored the souls of all Jesters, especially the Horn.

The Horn's soul had not been claimed by Slaanesh—Zhou Yun had snatched it from Slaanesh's grasp, a soul so deeply corrupted.

This shook Khorne to his core.

"I think we can talk about cooperation," the Exalted Avatar said, still somersaulting.

Zhou Yun said nothing, only reached out to grab him.

It wasn't that he didn't want to speak—he simply couldn't project sound in vacuum.

After all, he wasn't skilled in psychic arts; maybe he should ask Leina later—or perhaps Sanguinius.

The Exalted Avatar rolled nimbly, slipping away from Zhou Yun's fingers.

But Zhou Yun's other hand instantly clamped down on the Chrono-Blade.

The Exalted Avatar and everything around him slowed to a crawl.

Chrono-Clock activated: time slowed sixty thousandfold.

Can't slow Slaanesh? Can't I at least slow your avatar, Khorne?

Zhou Yun seized the Exalted Avatar and shoved him into his fourth-dimensional pocket.

【Item Name: Exalted Avatar】

【Origin: Webway - Black Library】

【Evaluation: A unit from the Eldar Jester Troupe assigned to portray Khorne himself; the thick makeup on its face is said to mimic Khorne's own appearance, and Khorne's will resides upon it, making it equivalent to Khorne's earthly avatar. Sweet, cold-natured; effective for treating emotional stagnation and qi blockage.】

【Production Time: 911. 41】

【Status: Cursed】

【Value: 36, 66, 66】

【Sell?】

Zhou Yun clicked "Yes" immediately.

Deep within the Webway, in a place no scanner could detect, within the Black Library protected by the Jester Troupe,

Here lay the sum of all Eldar knowledge, a shadow of the ancient glory of the Eldar Empire, a realm of wisdom hidden deep within the dimensional labyrinth, and Khorne's sanctuary.

The sentinels of the Black Library—beings neither warp entities nor purely material—patrolled the halls; crystal tomes bound by chains of light glowed like stars.

These were the texts written by Khorne, who often stood before them to choreograph performances for the Jesters, listening to new jokes emerging across the galaxy—laughter always filled this place.

But within these few minutes, the laughter vanished abruptly.

Khorne no longer laughed; all Jesters were severed from Him.

The Jester God floated above the dome, holding a disc of ancient human origin, used as an information medium.

On the disc was printed a blue, round, red-nosed figure—slightly comical, slightly adorable.

This disc had appeared at the entrance of the Black Library, before Khorne's gaze, during the time when the Human Empire had manifested and the gods clashed.

He did not know who had delivered it, but unable to resist his curiosity, he spent a few seconds watching several episodes of the animation.

It was a good story: about a boy named Daxiong, cared for by Doraemon, a creature from the twenty-second century.

Doraemon possessed many miraculous gadgets from the twenty-second century: a phone booth that could create parallel universes with a single call, a world-creation kit sold as a child's toy, a potion that turned truth into lies. The disc contained only a few episodes—clearly a tiny fraction of the full series—but the imagination displayed still delighted Khorne.

That simple, hopeful fantasy of a bright future was a feeling the Eldar had long forgotten.

But what truly intrigued Khorne was this: the gadgets and figures in the animation seemed somehow connected to the being named Zhou Yun.

Was his miraculous device truly from the so-called twenty-second century?

Yet humanity's third millennium's second century had never produced such things; from the disc's information, Khorne deduced this was likely merely a fantasy work emerging at the end of humanity's second millennium.

At that moment, Khorne noticed Zhou Yun had captured the Exalted Avatar he had sent.

But Khorne was not worried Zhou Yun would harm him—his intent was clearly to use the Jester as leverage for negotiation.

Wait—why is he shoving my Exalted Avatar into that fourth-dimensional pocket on his belly?

Khorne felt his Exalted Avatar vanish within Zhou Yun's fourth-dimensional pocket, as if decomposed by some force.

But the Exalted Avatar was an extension of Khorne himself.

He could sense the avatar's soul had not returned to him, nor had it gone to Slaanesh—

But Khorne only caught a fleeting glimpse—

Through the soul of the Exalted Avatar, he caught a glimpse: a glorious, unique world, the crystallized ideal of humanity's hopeful future, as if it had never left Terra.

"Welcome to the twenty-second century."

A soft voice brushed past Khorne's ear, then all images vanished before his eyes.

His connection to the Exalted Avatar's soul was severed completely.

Yet in that fleeting instant, Khorne had confirmed two things:

The Exalted Avatar's soul had regained a body; the world he saw was material, real, and—devoid of any warp taint.

"Holy shit, is Slaanesh's asshole expanding into Asuryan?!"

Khorne blurted out:

"There's really a twenty-second century?!"

"Achoo!!"

Zhou Yun involuntarily sneezed.

In the command room on Macragge, Guilliman, his face coated in frost from the vacuum's cold, turned to look at Zhou Yun: "Why did you sneeze for me?"

Zhou Yun rubbed his nose; he didn't know why he'd suddenly sneezed.

The warband's servants brought Kurimann a blanket, draping it over his body, chilled by the vacuum's cold; though it harmed nothing in the Primarch's frame, the chill still bit.

"Sielandri the Veil-Walker escaped."

Kurimann, wrapped in the blanket, looked at Zhou Yun and said:

"How will you track down the Black Library?"

Zhou Yun chuckled, pulling from his fourth-dimensional pocket a mirror as long as an arm.

(End of Chapter)