Chapter 395: The Angel Shall Guide the Path

"Merchant, how has this backward thing called capitalism not been eradicated by the 22nd century yet?"

The brown-haired boy slammed the parchment he held onto the table, speaking with bitter resentment.

"So what? Humanity's fortieth millennium hasn't even eradicated slavery or feudalism yet." Zhou Yun waved his hand.

This caused a flicker of embarrassment on the brown-haired boy's face, but then he began spouting incomprehensible phrases like "The Empire has its own national conditions," "The current situation doesn't permit it," and "Subspace communication is unreliable."

Zhou Yun then shifted to a look of mild confusion and asked: "You just said you need three complete, elevated versions of you to redeem Liar 800?"

"I calculated this result based on the portion I cut from you."

The brown-haired boy glanced at Zhou Yun, his face contorting in a spasm.

"In the eyes of 22nd-century humans, every divine position within Chaos is equivalent."

"To redeem Liar 800, you'd need to sell at least three of the Dark King, Khorne, Tzeentch, Nurgle, and Slaanesh."

Zhou Yun's own mouth twitched involuntarily—it was no wonder the Emperor couldn't hold it together.

If He truly had the power to sell off three of the Four Gods, He wouldn't need a relic like Liar 800.

To save the galaxy, the Emperor must sell the Four Gods; to sell the Four Gods, He needs items from his fourth-dimensional pocket—deadlock.

"Other items…" Zhou Yun glanced at the other relics capable of saving the galaxy,

but they were either more expensive or inherently flawed—Liar 800, valued at three Emperors, was truly the most suitable relic for this galaxy that Zhou Yun and the Emperor could find.

Like a time machine—though renting it once costs only 0. Emperors, far cheaper than Liar 800, in the Subspace, where past and future have no stable distinction, a time machine is of dubious utility.

Then there's the Creation Set, priced at two Emperors, slightly lower than Liar 800, but it merely creates a new world; getting the original world's inhabitants to relocate would take ages, and there's no guarantee the Four Gods won't invade it.

Then there's the Telephone Booth—a relic that creates parallel worlds according to the user's needs, available in two versions.

The first version truly constructs a world entirely to the user's specifications, but renting it once costs four Emperors—more than Liar 800.

The second version searches existing parallel worlds for one matching the user's criteria; renting it costs only about 0. Emperors.

But the problem is, among all existing parallel worlds, it's nearly impossible to find one untouched by the Four Gods.

This was confirmed by the Emperor—the Four Gods, including Himself, transcend temporal boundaries to some degree; all known parallel universes lie within their gaze.

Lastly, there's the Galaxy Annihilation Bomb—Zhou Yun thought this was pure nonsense, priced at one Emperor.

But do you even need to redeem the Galaxy Annihilation Bomb? Zhou Yun had one right in front of him—he could just make the Emperor stand up and use Him as a Galaxy Annihilation Bomb.

In that sense, the Emperor is literally the biggest, loudest landmine in human history.

"We can only hope Guilliman works overtime and earns more." Zhou Yun couldn't help muttering.

If Zhou Yun had to rate the Emperor's lifetime achievements, creating Robert Guilliman was undoubtedly His greatest.

Even on Guilliman alone, the Emperor was barely a third-tier creator.

But when it came to making money, Guilliman was far superior to the Emperor.

The Emperor spent hours slicing and finally spat out 1. billion gold coins; Guilliman dropped billions in one go.

Moreover, Guilliman is a premium asset—he generates wealth passively, just by existing.

The Emperor, hearing this, sighed wearily: "Guilliman is a useful Primarch, but why are you using him more ruthlessly than I ever did?"

"If Guilliman can generate the value of three Chaos God positions, I willingly acknowledge the Second Empire as the true lineage—I'll admit I'm the illegitimate usurper, and I'll serve as his Warmaster."

"Do you really have to steal Leman Russ's position?" Zhou Yun joked half-seriously; mentioning the Primarchs stirred something in him.

The Primarchs—at least Guilliman and Sanguinius, Zhou Yun knew their values.

Roughly speaking, Robert Guilliman was worth 0. 5 Emperors, Sanguinius 0. 55 Emperors.

That meant the twenty-one Primarchs together were roughly worth one Emperor—what if he retrieved all twenty-one and sold them?

Then maneuver alliances, capture a Chaos God, and add the Emperor himself—roughly three Emperors total.

But it's hard—extremely hard. To the Four Gods, the Primarchs are priceless pieces and prized collectibles.

With Nurgle's personality, selling Mortarion is unthinkable.

Slaanesh once said he'd be willing to share Fuegan with Zhou Yun—but only share, not sell.

Magnus may have become a muscle-monster, but Tzeentch has no intention of fully abandoning him.

Angron… well, Khorne treats Angron like a giant daemon, throwing him into reality every eight days, eight hours, and eight minutes.

Chaos doesn't discriminate—the Primarchs are all potentially watched over and protected by the Four Gods.

If Zhou Yun tried to sell them, they might just betray themselves to the Four Gods in exchange for protection.

What about lesser entities like Bael, Maris, or Vash'tor?

Or the Outer Gods, the Void Dragon, the Night-Bringer… but those are no easier. Who knows if the Outer God as a whole is even worth one Emperor?

Speaking of which, Sanguinius could be sold too… hmm, but what about the Titanium Goddess? She probably isn't worth much.

As he thought, Zhou Yun's gaze drifted to the centaur chess piece on the Emperor's desk.

But the brown-haired boy reached out and covered it with his hand.

"He's still useful," the brown-haired boy said, his tone showing a flicker of genuine emotion—real emotion.

Until now, every emotion the brown-haired boy displayed had felt like an act, like he was pretending to be human.

But this emotional tremor in his voice was closer to true humanity.

Zhou Yun suddenly recalled Guilliman's evaluation of the Emperor:

"He doesn't love people. He doesn't love his sons."

"I even doubt he has the capacity to love any individual."

Zhou Yun now wanted, with a touch of sorrow, to tell Guilliman:

The Emperor doesn't hate his sons—he loves only some of them, and Guilliman happens to be among the ones he doesn't love.

At least for Horus, His firstborn, the Emperor did feel something.

Zhou Yun's gaze drifted again to the corpse of the silver-haired boy.

"He's left with only one psychic spark now—not worth much," the brown-haired boy's tone showed a faint but clearer emotional shift.

From this, the Emperor still showed a hint of humanity—only humans have favorites; it's just that such favoritism always yields to His love for the human species.

"Then what should I do?"

Zhou Yun looked at the Emperor, who wouldn't let him sell anything.

The Iron Knights are stationed in the Blood God's wound, the Blind Assassins are searching for the Two Old Women's Swords, the Centaur has other plans—all currently immovable.

Guilliman and Sanguinius are the same—they're Zhou Yun's core assets, not to be sold now.

Especially Guilliman—selling such a self-enhancing premium asset would be pure waste.

"So there's truly no good way to save this galaxy?"

Zhou Yun sighed.

After hours of negotiation and information exchange, though they'd created Daxiong the Daemon and wounded Khorne's leg, they made no real progress on the most critical issue: saving the galaxy.

"At this point, let me try divination first."

The brown-haired boy suddenly spoke.

Only then did Zhou Yun remember: both Konrad Curze and Sanguinius's prophetic abilities were inherited from the Emperor.

"I've gathered enough information—I should be able to use my own prophetic ability to glimpse a direction of the future."

Saying this, the brown-haired boy pulled a stack of cards from his desk.

The cards fluttered between his fingers; after thirteen seconds, he drew one.

"."

But the brown-haired boy stared at the card in silence.

Only when Zhou Yun looked at him with curiosity did the brown-haired boy speak hesitantly.

"An angel shall guide our path," he said slowly.

"Sanguinius?" Zhou Yun raised an eyebrow.

Mentioning "angel" naturally brought Sanguinius to mind.

But the brown-haired boy shook his head with a strange expression.

"Leman Russ?" Zhou Yun asked again.

The Dark Angels were also angels; Russ, though a savage beast disguised as a civilized man, might truly guide the future, given Caliban's peculiar nature.

But the brown-haired boy shook his head again, expression still odd.

"Could it be that angel? The one you supposedly created—the Zeroth Primarch?" Zhou Yun's expression grew strange too.

Legend said that during the Unification Wars on Terra, the Emperor forged a living weapon called "The Angel," but it went rogue and was sealed by Him in a coffin.

Though mad, "The Angel" remained a powerful weapon against Chaos; many even believed it was the Zeroth Primarch—the prototype of all Primarchs.

But the brown-haired boy only responded with silence, a shake of the head, and that strange expression.

Now Zhou Yun was truly at a loss.

Angel? Was there another angel in this galaxy who could guide the future?

It couldn't be—Zhou Yun's mind suddenly conjured a bizarre thought.

He remembered one Primarch still bore the title "Angel"… no way.

The brown-haired boy slowly placed the card on Zhou Yun's desk.

"You? Are you joking?"

"He can guide the future? His brain cell count doesn't even reach one Lei."

Zhou Yun stared, dumbfounded, at the card in the brown-haired boy's hand.

The card depicted a monstrous hybrid of ape and demon, its grotesque crimson wings spread wide, its head studded with a series of silver nails and cables.

"Fucking hell!"

"The Crimson Angel is an angel too!"

(End of chapter)