Chapter 359: The Great Expedition: King Aiman

"Master Aiman, what's going on now? Where has the Primarch gone?"

The newly resurrected Thousand Sons warriors, like several others, were filled with questions.

But Aiman, faced with these questions, chose to play ostrich, pretending not to hear.

He clenched his teeth, analyzing the situation before him.

Aiman still had four powerful Chaos artifacts in his hands; this psychic barrier could hold a little longer.

But he himself was nearing his limit—only two or three more times being toyed with by Zhou Yun, and he would collapse.

So cruel! So cruel! Absolutely Airebas!

In ten thousand years of roaming the galaxy, Aiman had never encountered such a cruel opponent.

This wasn't even a battle!!

Aiman recalled Magnus's words before the battle: "That being is now confined within a mortal shell, fragile enough to be slain by a single witchfire."

Aiman wanted nothing but to curse Magnus's entire family.

Zhou Yun's body was indeed fragile, but Aiman never got close enough to strike—Zhou Yun had clearly never intended to fight Aiman a real battle.

Throughout the entire war, the two merely repeated the cycle: Zhou Yun resurrected the Red Book warriors, Fat Tiger the Demon tossed them into the Warp, Aiman rushed to rescue them—and took the bullets.

The only reason Aiman had held on this long was waiting for either Carlos or Magnus to achieve the victory they had promised.

Now Carlos had already lost, and Magnus had sent no word.

Even if Magnus eventually killed Sanguinius, he wouldn't arrive in time—Aiman would be killed by the combined forces of Zhou Yun and Guilliman.

Aiman clenched his teeth.

If his only goal was to defeat Zhou Yun, Aiman still had one final option.

Ascend to that position, claim a place within the Warp, become a pure Warp entity, ascending to a higher form.

Aiman had always had this opportunity.

Perturabo had offered hundreds of Imperial Fists seeds to Chaos—and ascended into a Chaos Prince without division.

But what Aiman offered Chaos was his entire Legion.

He was the master of the Red Network, the arcane focal point of all Thousand Sons psychic power.

He had killed nearly his entire Legion, offering nearly all his brothers to the Warp.

So many sacrifices, so much death—enough to grant Aiman the profound blessings of the Warp.

The souls bound within their armor, the fates reduced to dust—all of it had given Aiman the chance to ascend to a higher existence.

He had spent ten thousand years searching for the moment of ascension, viewing ascension as the only way to save his brothers, and finally discovered the method in the Eldar library.

But Aiman had discovered in despair: if he ascended to compete for a position among the Chaos entities—becoming a being of the same rank as Inadd, Vashthor, or Zhou Yun—his brothers would be beyond salvation.

Once he began to ascend, the Warp's timeless nature would take effect.

His ascension was rooted in the Red Network, in the very destruction of the Thousand Sons; once complete, this fate would be fixed.

From past to future, the destruction of the Thousand Sons would become an undeniable truth at every moment, just as Slaanesh's birth had doomed the Eldar to inevitable ruin—the Curse of Dust would hunt every descendant of the Thousand Sons across time.

Aiman now dared not draw any more power from the Warp—he could already faintly sense the presence of that position.

"Aiman."

At that moment, Zhou Yun's voice rang out. He smiled gently, calling to Aiman with a warm, inviting tone:

"You seem about to break. I can let you go."

Hearing this, Aiman froze slightly.

"You have no real conflict of interest with Magnus or Tzeentch."

Zhou Yun continued smiling:

"I know you don't trust the gods' promises—so I won't make any. I'll appeal to you with tangible benefits."

"I'll resurrect a few of your Red Book warriors. All I ask is that you leave."

A sudden flash of light burst before Aiman's eyes—Zhou Yun's words were like a spider's thread dangling from Hell, offering him a glimmer of hope.

He guessed Sanguinius was in trouble, and Zhou Yun needed to rush to his rescue, so he didn't want to waste more time on Aiman.

"Resurrect two hundred of my brothers, and I'll withdraw," Aiman shouted at Zhou Yun.

"Ten. We're on a battlefield—do you think I have time to resurrect them one by one?" Zhou Yun immediately rejected the proposal.

"Then let Sanguinius die?" Aiman felt he had seized Zhou Yun's weakness.

But Zhou Yun only gave Aiman a strange look, as if asking what nonsense he was speaking.

"Sanguinius isn't the first to die."

Zhou Yun said calmly:

"If I can resurrect him once, I can resurrect him again."

"Do you think resurrecting the dead is hard for me?"

As he spoke, Zhou Yun casually resurrected another Red Book warrior.

But this time, he didn't toss him into the Warp's torrent—he directly commanded Fat Tiger the Demon to hurl him into Aiman's barrier.

"That's the first," Zhou Yun said to Aiman.

"But ten is too few!" Aiman swallowed hard, forcing down his excitement as he shouted.

"I didn't burn your brothers to ashes!" Zhou Yun said, resurrecting another Red Book warrior and tossing him toward Aiman.

Aiman swiftly caught him with psychic energy and placed him beside himself. "Resurrecting a few more won't take you much time!"

"Alright then, for good luck—twenty-two. Twenty-two is my sacred number."

Zhou Yun grinned, knowing Aiman was hooked:

"But I want the copy of the Book of Magnus you're carrying."

Upon hearing this, Aiman immediately removed the precious copy of the Book of Magnus from his belt.

Though he suspected Zhou Yun had always intended to claim this copy, in Aiman's eyes, trading it for twelve more brothers was more than worth it.

Aiman hurled the Book of Magnus copy to Zhou Yun, and Zhou Yun resurrected the remaining twenty Red Book warriors and tossed them one by one to Aiman.

Finally, Aiman gave Zhou Yun a slight nod—he seemed almost satisfied—then led the Renegade Warband into the tides of the Warp.

Zhou Yun glanced at the tracking mirror, now imprinted with Aiman's image, then immediately began executing his plan.

He shoved Aiman's copy of the Book of Magnus into his fourth-dimensional pocket, then pulled out the copy he had obtained from the Black Library, along with

a pair of shoes woven with orange and yellow threads.

(End of Chapter)