Chapter 306: The West High Suffering Overtime Edition

"Thus, with the heart of a wolf, I drove the Spear of the Sun God into the master of humanity."

"The rational world woven by the Sun God shattered before my eyes, revealing before me the primal, chaotic truth."

"Master, have you truly brought humanity to such an irrevocable ruin?"

"Master, have you truly entrusted such a cruel duty to me, the one blessed by the Sun God?"

"Yet I have listened to your thirteen commands, understood the thirteen sins I shall commit, and shall fulfill the thirteen missions you have given me."

"I am the Imperial Guard, blessed by the Sun God, my fate alike yet opposite to the wolf blessed by the Wine God."

"That wolf shall seek for you the Tree of Life, so you may return as a human."

"And I shall seek for you the lost true name, so you may die as a human."

Here, Zhou Yun paused slightly, his tone turning strange, his voice involuntarily rising as he read the final line of the journal:

"I, the failed guardian, am the most vile traitor—I am Constantine Vardo."

"I shall abandon all identities and exist solely in the name of the King in Yellow, until I kill the common master of myself and all humanity."

"May the sins I commit be forever spurned by all beings."

Saint Guilliman fell silent, staring in astonishment at the book in Zhou Yun's hands.

Zhou Yun, too, was slightly startled by the journal's contents.

It was a confession, the confession of Constantine Vardo, former commander of the Imperial Guard, written on the eve of his departure from the Empire alongside Lorgar.

Vardo described his intended actions in obscure, symbolic language, but Zhou Yun understood.

The Spear of the Wine God and the Spear of the Sun God were twin power-spears forged by the Emperor in ages past.

Both spears possessed the same power: to reveal truth.

Yet their powers were diametrically opposed.

The Spear of the Wine God caused the pierced to see their own truth.

The Spear of the Sun God caused the user to see the truth of the pierced.

The Spear of the Wine God was granted by the Emperor to the Wolf King Leman Russ; the Spear of the Sun God was given to the Imperial Guard commander Constantine Vardo.

According to Zhou Yun's past-life memories,

the wolf blessed by the Wine God clearly referred to Russ. After the Great Crusade ended, Leman Russ and Vardo quarreled; soon after, Russ declared he would seek the Tree of Life to heal the Emperor, then vanished from human sight.

Vardo nearly simultaneously left the Terra Imperial Palace, his whereabouts unknown. Now, this confession resolved the mystery for Zhou Yun and Saint Guilliman.

The King in Yellow was none other than Constantine Vardo himself.

Whether guided by the Emperor or acting on his own, Vardo had driven the Spear of the Sun God into the Emperor, clearly perceiving part of the Emperor's truth—and perhaps even accepting the Emperor's command.

A command diametrically opposed to Russ's.

Leman Russ would seek the Tree of Life, so the Emperor might be reborn as a human in the material universe.

Constantine would seek the Emperor's lost true name, to use it to kill the Emperor as a human.

"Constantine Vardo was one of those who accompanied the Emperor longest—longer than any of us Primarchs."

Saint Guilliman's tone carried rare complexity:

"In a sense, he was also our brother, the Emperor's child."

Zhou Yun nodded in agreement.

Constantine Vardo was the first Imperial Guard ever created by the Emperor, the template for all future Guards, the Emperor's left hand. He had fought beside the Emperor since the Terra Unification Wars, witnessed the Empire's rise from Terra to the stars, and fell on the Vengeful Spirit to Horus.

Now he bore the task of killing the Emperor—surely a crushing psychological burden.

The script in this book was protected by the Emperor's power; theoretically, it could never be leaked.

But if Constantine Vardo completed his mission and the Emperor died, this confession would become decipherable.

Constantine Vardo desired his sins to be spurned.

Yet in Zhou Yun's view, both Constantine Vardo and Leman Russ were like insurance policies prepared by the Emperor.

If Russ failed and all other plans collapsed, Constantine Vardo, who had found the Emperor's true name, would become the Emperor's final executioner—preventing the Emperor from becoming the Dark King and bringing total annihilation to humanity.

But more than Constantine Vardo's confession, Zhou Yun cared about something more practical.

For instance, the back of this journal recorded Vardo's training in incantations.

That miraculous language, capable of directly altering the real universe without relying on the Warp—Zhou Yun was deeply intrigued.

Then Zhou Yun saw that, after just two pages of confession, the entire rest of the journal was filled with tiny, meticulous script detailing incantations.

Yet this thick journal recorded only three incantations.

The first incantation was the simplest, its meaning encompassing roughly "harm," "equivalence," and "pain."

Zhou Yun understood it simply: the caster would suffer a certain amount of harm, and the target would suffer equivalent harm.

This incantation contained six syllables, each comprising over seven thousand specific frequencies, each frequency to be uttered at a precise time, in a precise order and rhythm, with no hesitation whatsoever—linking syllables, frequencies, and words with flawless fluidity.

When layered together, the possible variations multiplied exponentially; merely memorizing the correct pronunciation challenged the human brain's limits.

Moreover, from the moment the first syllable was spoken, the user's throat endured immense pressure.

Without a powerful body, one could never survive to finish the full incantation.

As for the other two incantations:

The second contained "essence," "curse," and "contact." After casting it, any injury to the enemy—even hair, nails, eyelashes, or skin flakes—would bypass all defenses and strike directly at their essence. Yet its complexity far surpassed the first incantation.

The third contained "imitation," "reproduction," and "similarity." Its complexity made Zhou Yun's head spin; its function seemed to use similarity as a cause to reproduce past events as similar effects—but Zhou Yun had not fully grasped it.

"The third incantation is the most powerful."

Saint Guilliman, listening to Zhou Yun's description, quickly judged:

"This incantation ignores specific spatiotemporal conditions and forcibly makes similar causes yield similar effects."

"For example: 'Saint Guilliman dies after boarding the Vengeful Spirit.' Boarding the Vengeful Spirit is the cause; my death is the effect."

"With this incantation, you bypass the conditions to achieve this cause-effect. Simply board the Vengeful Spirit again, and death follows immediately—even if Horus is not waiting."

"Logically, the higher the similarity between cause and effect, the stronger the result."

"But the complexity..." Saint Guilliman shook his head, staring at the journal's entries.

"Such a complex, variable technique that inflicts irreversible throat damage—no wonder only the immortal use it."

Zhou Yun understood Saint Guilliman's meaning.

These three incantations were all immensely powerful: one forces harm, one bypasses all defenses, one directly twists causality.

But their flaw was the extreme difficulty of training—just memorizing these intricate pronunciations and reciting them flawlessly was beyond any mortal.

Moreover, the incantations affected vocal fluency, yet from the first syllable, they damaged the throat. Without a resilient voice, training was impossible.

Thus, only Primarchs, the immortal, or the Imperial Guard could realistically learn them; for anyone else, it was nearly impossible.

All I can say is, brother, your incantations are powerful—but they demand extreme precision.

Wait—memory, fluency in complex syllables, a throat that withstands pressure...

Zhou Yun unconsciously reached up to stroke his chin.

Some brothers—yes, some! They all have these!

He thought he might have a solution.

"Kiman has finished the negotiations."

As Zhou Yun pondered, Saint Guilliman suddenly spoke.

The two turned and walked back to their original spot.

There, they saw an enormous wooden table set up, piled high with paper documents.

Xiang Gaoqi sat opposite Kiman, wearing a comically small pair of glasses, pen in hand, expression utterly lifeless and vacant as he signed his name on stack after stack of papers.

For some reason, he radiated a heartbreaking office-worker aura—as if infected by Kiman.

Now, Xiang Gaoqi looked less like the Laughing God and more like some poor, overworked Space Marine dragged in to handle paperwork.

"Lord Xiang Gaoqi, we still have one hundred sixty-nine documents, two thousand one hundred ninety-seven supplementary documents, and twenty-eight thousand additional treaties drafted to eliminate ambiguity. Furthermore, each document should be prepared in triplicate: one for your Black Library, one for my Ptolemaic Library, and one to be sent to Terra."

"Of course, I hope you understand these treaties are signed under my authority as the Emperor's proxy. I have not yet been formally granted the Emperor's full authority, so the human obligations within these documents will only activate after I meet the Emperor."

"As the only currently autonomous deity among the Eldar, I may assume you hold authority to represent the entire Eldar race. I trust your people will not face the same obstacles I do in fulfilling their obligations."

Kiman's mouth operated like a boltgun fired by a delighted machine-spirit, continuously spewing information and new treaty clauses at Xiang Gaoqi.

Xiang Gaoqi's eyes glazed over.

"I can agree to all of it—but do these documents really need to be this detailed? Must every single clause be signed separately?" He trembled, staring at the ocean of paperwork.

"You must be joking," Kiman replied with a polite smile. "You are the famed Eldar God of Deception, the fourth greatest trickster in the galaxy. Of course, contracts with you must be meticulous."

"Here, this document has twenty-two supplements. Sign here, here, and here."

Xiang Gaoqi looked like he wanted to die. His voice trembled: "You shouldn't have made a pact with me—you should've gone to Vashthor."

Kiman didn't know who Vashthor was. He merely offered the pure smile of a political creature.

"Your insults toward my mother severely wounded my emotions—and by extension, the emotions of all of Ultramar and humanity."

"I believe we must sign additional treaties, as compensation from the Eldar for the emotional harm inflicted upon humanity."

(End of Chapter)