Chapter 325: Whatever the Lord of Change Supports, We Oppose

Zhou Yun studied the small crow standing before him.

The crow was covered in decay—maggots wriggled beneath its greasy feathers, fungi layered over its skin, and countless boils, warts, and swellings clustered atop it; even its eyes were clouded and opaque.

It was hard not to suspect this crow was merely a animated corpse, but Zhou Yun knew a familiar soul dwelled within it.

Malkit, co-leader of the Asford Nest mutants alongside Mong, a follower of Nurgle.

Zhou Yun truly hadn't expected to encounter him here, on Macragge.

Frankly, Malkit and Mong had deteriorated badly—they'd barely appeared before Digg Lisi spotted them, then Morpheston and patrolling Space Wolves, who'd tracked them all the way here.

Zhou Yun had naturally learned their conversation, understood their purpose.

He'd originally planned to let them walk into his trap, but the brothers had been out of touch too long—even finding him was beyond them—so he'd sent Morpheston and Leina to bring them back.

Result? Mong was instantly killed by Leina. Though Leina's stats were absurdly inflated.

"The Father invites you to visit His garden," said Malkit, standing on the table before Zhou Yun, his mouth opening black-green.

He deliberately revealed his purpose abruptly, lowering his voice to heighten the atmosphere, hoping to unsettle Zhou Yun.

"Hmm, and then?" Zhou Yun replied flatly, showing no surprise at all.

"Aren't you astonished? This is the invitation of the Father—one of the greatest beings in the Warp!" Malkit was taken aback by Zhou Yun's attitude; he even wondered if Zhou Yun hadn't heard clearly who was inviting him.

"What's so special? Recently, Slaanesh invited me to make love with Him." Zhou Yun waved his hand.

"What the hell are you joking about?!" Malkit recoiled two steps in terror.

"I just said His name outright—see, nothing happened, did it?" Zhou Yun said casually.

In fact, to guard against Nurgle's viruses carried by Mong and Malkit, he'd already used the Adaptation Lamp on himself.

Corruption transmitted through the name had already been adapted to by Zhou Yun.

In truth, when he spoke Slaanesh's name, he felt only a gentle gaze—no trace of corruption at all.

"So, what then? What is the Father's purpose? Why invite me to his garden?"

Zhou Yun raised an eyebrow, looking at Malkit.

Nurgle had invited him to visit the garden.

He was baffled—he'd already been selecting tools to counter the coming plague,

since the Lamp for Eliminating Useless Bacteria only worked on bacteria, useless against Nurgle's favored parasites, viruses, and fungi.

"The Father believes you are an excellent bacterial artist, and is fascinated by your bacterial cultivation techniques."

"He seems to have interpreted recent events in the material universe as a competition with you in bacterial cultivation."

Bacterial artist?

Zhou Yun paused, then realized Nurgle must have noticed the useless bacteria Zhou Yun had cultivated with his chaotic bacterial generator.

He couldn't help twitching his lips—how had those meaningless bacteria drawn Nurgle's interest?

Did the Father want to grow long hair?

"My body bears the Father's mark; you merely need to—"

"Look into this mirror." Before Malkit could finish, Zhou Yun pulled the Tracking Image Mirror from his fourth-dimensional pocket and swept it over Malkit.

"What?" Malkit asked, bewildered.

Zhou Yun said nothing, only gently pointed at him.

A faint, pale deathly aura seeped from his fingertip.

"Wait!!" Malkit cried out in terror.

Before he could finish, his crow body instantly died, crumbling into pale sand on the table, forming a small mound.

This was the power Zhou Yun gained after consuming Inard—the power to bestow death upon things.

But this power could only spread through Zhou Yun's flesh and the Old Woman's Sword, and the stronger the target, the more it resisted.

So in Zhou Yun's view, it was practically useless—good only for dealing with nearby grunts.

Far more useful was the other power: reviving souls not yet returned to the Warp—those recently dead, or not quite dead.

Especially useful against the Thousand Sons.

"My Lord, won't you accept the invitation?" Morpheston asked softly.

Zhou Yun merely adjusted the mirror; its image shifted, focusing on Malkit within Nurgle's Garden.

"Father, I have failed," Malkit said with remorse, head bowed, unable to look at the Father's grand form.

That form, a mountain of layered flesh, cast only a faint shadow upon the rotting soil beneath Malkit's lowered gaze.

A stirring sound came from the cauldron; a gentle, kindly voice, threaded with the hum of flies, spoke:

"Failed? No, no, no, my dear child—you did excellently."

"Remember, I tasked you only to deliver my invitation. You did so perfectly."

"He simply dislikes me, so he refused. That is my fault, not yours."

As he spoke, the Father hummed a tune, the stirring growing clearer, his voice like a kindly grandfather's:

"I shall reward you two brothers—you deserve it!"

"I'll brew a new broth. When it's ready, you and your brother may drink a little."

Malkit bowed deeply, full of gratitude.

Not because the Father would grant him and his brother a boon—but because of the Father's love.

It was this desire to repay such affection that gave Malkit courage to ask: "Why… why invite Zhou Yun?"

"Because I am torn—I don't know whether to stop Guilliman from returning to Terra."

Nurgle sighed, his voice tinged with sorrow:

"Is it cruel to stop a newly healed child from seeing his father?"

"But little Mortarion always begs me—to hold Guilliman back."

"Sigh. So I thought to speak with Zhou Yun, this excellent fellow practitioner, to discuss bacterial arts—and also Guilliman and Mortarion."

"Malkit, child—if you were me, what would you decide?"

The Father gently asked Malkit.

"Perhaps I would let Guilliman return. If he's as legendary as they say, he'll save more lives—from the other four gods who don't value life."

Malkit meant Tzeentch, Slaanesh, Khorne, and the Emperor.

"I'm not so sure," Nurgle said gloomily. "He may save many humans—but humans aren't the only life he ignores."

Hearing the Father's melancholy, Malkit panicked, frantically thinking how to ease his burden.

"Why not see what the Lord of Change is doing?"

Mong, who had been quietly healing his soul wounds nearby, suddenly spoke, dazed.

Nurgle, Malkit, and the Nurgle-spawn playing nearby all turned to stare at Mong.

"I mean—if we just watch what the Lord of Change does, we'll know what to do, won't we?"

Mong gestured with his hands:

"Whatever the Lord of Change supports, we oppose!"

"Whatever the Lord of Change opposes, we support!"

"Those blue-haired bastards never do anything good—doing the opposite must be right!"

The polluted air of Nurgle's Garden fell silent—then the Nurgle-spawn nearby burst into spontaneous applause.

Malkit gasped at his brother's astonishing wisdom; the Father paused in thought.

Zhou Yun, peering through the Tracking Image Mirror from the material realm, couldn't help applauding Mong.

Mong had grasped the fundamental logic of the Chaos Gods.

Tzeentch and Nurgle occupied two opposing poles of the Warp.

One stagnates, one changes; one clings to the past, one desires the future; one seeks harmony, one hungers for ambition.

Unless a threat to all Chaos arises, Tzeentch and Nurgle's goals almost always conflict.

And nearly all demons in Nurgle's Garden agreed with Mong's statement—they'd simply never found the right words to express it.

"I must consider," the Father nodded heavily. "I must consider."

Watching the scene in the mirror, Zhou Yun stroked his chin, pressing down the reasoning cap always on his head.

"My Lord?" Morpheston asked again.

"I plan to visit the Plague God's garden. After all, it's a famous Warp landmark."

Zhou Yun smiled.

"But not through His door—and not using this body."

Morpheston raised an eyebrow. "Your meaning?"

"Do you remember I have a corrupted Warp engine in my pocket?"

"I brought it from Asford. You modified it to open a path to Khorne's realm to fight Kabanha."

"Now I need you to revert it—redirect its Warp rift toward Nurgle's Garden."

"My Lord, you've once again treated me like some blasphemous wizard who casually opens portals to demonic realms."

Morpheston sighed wearily.

"But your request is simple—I believe I can manage it easily."

In Nurgle's Garden, Rainfather Rotigus ambled beside the pus-lake, his rotund body wobbling as he shook a yew branch, summoning foul, lush rains that made the fungal grasses flourish.

He was the Generous One, the Rain Priest, the Herald of Abundance—the embodiment of the Great Father's generosity, prosperity, and fertility.

In both Warp and material realm, all who prayed for life received his response, granted abundance.

Hazel leaves unfurled, fungal mats oozed slime, putrid maggots wriggled beneath Rainfather Rotigus's feet, making him laugh heartily.

One day in the Garden of Nurgle was truly beautiful,

no cursed ones' skeletal legions disturbed it, no bird-men of the Lord of Change cackled, no armored figures in silver power armor set fires, no Pocket that Devours Demons lay sprawled at the boundary between reality and the material universe,

what a beautiful day, what a beautiful Garden of Nurgle—praise the Benevolent Father!

But suddenly, Father Nurgle. Luo Ti Ge Si stopped smiling, gazing in confusion toward a nearby spot,

where the Warp rippled, revealing the veil separating the Warp from the material universe,

then the veil tore open with a slight tremor, unfolding a passage linking reality and the material universe,

Father Nurgle. Luo Ti Ge Si leaned forward curiously, peering into the passage,

had some poor soul on a distant planet suffered famine and needed his aid?

Then Father Nurgle. Luo Ti Ge Si saw a muscular human step out of the rift, holding a bat, landing squarely upon the soft, sticky fungal lawn of the Garden of Nurgle,

his steps were so forceful they burst the maggots nesting at the roots of the fungi, oozing thick yellow fluid from the ground,

yet the fluid seemed separated from the human by an invisible microscopic film, leaving him untouched,

Father Nurgle. Luo Ti Ge Si studied him curiously—he felt an odd familiarity with this human,

not in appearance, but in scent—somewhat like… somewhat like…

like hollow, desolate death,

Father Nurgle. Luo Ti Ge Si's gaze fell upon the white pouch on his belly—

"Run!!!"

"The Pocket that Devours Demons is coming! Everyone, run!!!"

Father Nurgle. Luo Ti Ge Si screamed in terror and scrambled on all fours toward the Black Mo House where the Benevolent Father dwelled.

Zhou Yun, controlling the Fat Tiger Daemon, stared blankly at the fleeing Nurgle Greater Daemon,

by appearance—oh, that was Father Nurgle. Luo Ti Ge Si,

Zhou Yun, who in his past life had been a fan of Chaos and Xenos, quickly identified the identity of the Nurgle Greater Daemon, then scratched his head in puzzlement,

he had not entered the Garden of Nurgle in his true form, but used the Fat Tiger Daemon for safety,

yet the invitation to Nurgle had been extended to Zhou Yun himself; to show respect and avoid misunderstanding, he had shaped the Fat Tiger Daemon's appearance to resemble his own body, even replicating the pouch on his belly, only enlarged in size,

could he really look that terrifying? Zhou Yun stared oddly at himself, unable to help shaking his head,

what a pity—he had once loved Father Nurgle. Luo Ti Ge Si among his favorite Daemons; its design was excellent, and had the chance arisen, Zhou Yun had planned to invite him into his own pouch as a collector's piece,

never mind, duty comes first,

Zhou Yun's gaze turned toward the depths of the Nurgle Black Mo House.

(End of Chapter)