Chapter 398: As Long as the Whip Swings Fast Enough

"I am the Emperor's guard! My duty is to protect the Emperor!"

"How dare you make me till the soil! How dare you!"

Magistrate Koken lifted his head from the muddy field, shook the black sludge from his hands, and growled.

He could not bear it—how could such a common, mortal task be assigned to his noble Imperial Guard?

How could his hands, forged by the Emperor's divine genetic alchemy, grasp seedlings, throw dirt, or hold a hoe?

No, his hands were meant only for spears, pens, and shields.

Such base labor must be left to the lowly mortals.

"Crack!!!"

The whip's crack split the air like thunder.

Normally, a mere whip could never harm a guardsman like Koken,

and this whip had merely swung through empty air—never touching Koken's body.

Yet Koken suddenly felt a surge of pain, his feet slipped, and he crashed heavily into the rice paddy, his face slamming into the black mud.

【Item Name: Whip of Divine Punishment】

【Origin: 22nd Century Earth—Future Department Store】

【Manufactured: 275. 3】

【Function: Appears as a small taming whip; when the user sees someone nearby committing a wrongdoing, merely flicking the whip in the air will punish that person proportionally—the worse the offense, the harsher the punishment.】

"Magistrate Koken's wrongdoing: Disrespect for labor, discrimination against farmers."

"Punishment: Fell into the mud, landed painfully."

Extremely useful whip—it makes my Imperial Guard slaves spin.

Zhou Yun sighed, flicking the whip in his hand.

This item had originally been intended by him to confront Airebas, the primary villain foretold by the Emperor to disrupt the galaxy's fate in the near future.

Whenever someone near Zhou Yun committed a wrongdoing and he witnessed it, a single flick of the whip would punish the offender automatically.

After all, who in this world could commit more evil than Airebas?

But after acquiring it, Zhou Yun found the whip unexpectedly effective.

Because its definition of wrongdoing was remarkably simple: wasting food, disrespecting labor, insulting others—all counted as offenses and incurred punishment.

Especially after Zhou Yun decided to assign the Imperial Guard to farming, he realized this thing was perfect.

"Imperial Guard!"

"Is this solid enough?"

"Are you going to farm or not?"

"Say it—say you're here to farm!"

Magistrate Koken clenched his teeth, veins bulging one after another on his face.

"I am the Emperor's perfect creation! The Emperor forged these hands not for farming—"

"Crack!" Another whip crack rang out.

Before he could rise, Magistrate Koken crashed again into the muddy, despised, filthy earth.

This guardsman, newly promoted to magistrate and dumped on Zhou Yun by Trajan to till the underground palace, glared up in fury.

He fixed Zhou Yun with a look full of hatred, causing Zhou Yun's brow to lift slightly.

Behind Zhou Yun, Doraemon the Great stepped forward slightly, standing behind him, looking down at Koken.

Koken instinctively met that gaze—and shuddered involuntarily.

Was it an illusion? Koken thought he sensed the Emperor's gaze in Doraemon the Great's eyes.

A fleeting moment—almost enough to make him doubt his own senses.

But even if it was an illusion, Doraemon the Great's presence made the surrounding guardsmen hold their breath.

They had all witnessed this Great Demon of the Saint Doraemon at the Lion's Gate, seen what he could do.

One bullet killed Skarbrand and crippled the Blood God Khorne.

"My duty is not farming! My duty is to guard the Emperor!" Koken still insisted.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the whip to crack, waiting for the pain to come.

But no whip cracked—only Zhou Yun's voice rang out.

"Guard the Emperor? The Emperor's physical form needs no guarding."

"But humanity does. The countless souls of Terra need it."

"The Emperor is humanity. Humanity is the Emperor. They have always been one."

"Protecting humanity, feeding humanity, nourishing humanity—that is guarding the Emperor! That is true guarding!"

Zhou Yun's words left the Imperial Guard momentarily stunned, but the whip's crack soon shattered the silence.

"Gowork!" Zhou Yun roared in High Gothic.

The Imperial Guard lowered their heads, picked up the seedlings, and began tilling.

Even Magistrate Koken, face flushed with resentment, joined the labor.

Though Koken had spoken harshly, he and the others were still the Emperor's excellent creations—their farming was swift and precise.

Zhou Yun toyed with the Whip of Divine Punishment, nodding in approval.

Indeed, these Imperial Guard belonged here, tilling the soil.

Currently, Terra's three primary tasks are: governance, resources, and reconquest.

Governance was entrusted to Robert Guilliman, who had been appointed Regent by the Emperor, leading the surviving Terra bureaucrats in administration and building strength for future reconquest beyond Terra.

Resources fell to Zhou Yun—he must produce enough food and water in short order to feed Terra's billions, preventing the human homeworld from starving itself.

Reconquest belonged to Saint Sanguinius, who led the Astartes and Imperial Guard into Terra's hive cities, reclaiming lost territories and revealing his presence to mortals, rekindling their faith.

Initially, Guilliman had hoped to assign some Imperial Guard to governance and command structures,

using their superhuman intellects for administrative tasks or military roles—but Zhou Yun reminded Guilliman: these Imperial Guard are not the same as those from ten thousand years ago.

This made Guilliman wary; he secretly ordered Space Marines wearing Blindspot Stars to infiltrate the Imperial Guard and assess their current state.

The results shocked Guilliman.

For ten thousand years, the Imperial Guard had remained confined within the Imperial Palace; many had grown sluggish in strategic thinking and retained irrational superiority over mortals and Astartes—even began to despise them.

This struck Guilliman as profoundly absurd.

Governance's purpose is to rule over the vast majority of mortals and a minority of Astartes—how could such Imperial Guard be allowed in governance?

And Saint Sanguinius's reconquest team explicitly stated he needed no glittering bodyguards—who protects whom on the battlefield?

Better to give him more Imperial Fists; hive cities need people to clear the filth!

For a time, the Imperial Guard became universally despised—until Zhou Yun discovered their hidden value.

Come farm!

His Holiday Agriculture Set needed manpower.

Terra's population was too vast; supplying food to all its people via the Gourmet Tablecloth consumed astronomical sums.

But the Holiday Agriculture Set required only one thing: lash the Imperial Guard.

As for ideological problems? Contempt for mortals and Astartes?

No problem—just lash them hard enough.

As long as the whip swings fast enough, no problem is a problem.

"Hey! Don't crush those bugs! Grab them whole!"

Zhou Yun hurriedly stopped the Imperial Guard, who had been crushing the insects emerging from the soil.

This was a feature of the Holiday Agriculture Set: to immerse the user in the farming experience, the rapidly growing rice automatically generated locusts and grasshoppers—completely defying physics and biology.

Yet these pests held great value.

"Grab them whole! Keep them intact—they're protein! Roasted whole, they're delicious."

These Imperial Guard had spent too long cooped up in the palace.

Zhou Yun knew well: in hive cities, roasted insects were considered gourmet delicacies, excellent for protein replenishment.

As the Imperial Guard used their superhuman physiques to capture the insects, the rice matured at an astonishing speed.

This growth rate far exceeded natural limits; within the underground palace, Zhou Yun had manipulated time using the Wild Clock.

To the outside world, the time required for one rice harvest appeared to last only a few seconds.

Outside the palace gate, Robert Guilliman passed by, carrying administrative scrolls retrieved from the palace depths. He glanced inside.

From his view, the Imperial Guard were working at incredible speed; beside them, rice piles had already risen like mountains.

Instantly, Robert Guilliman stared at the hardworking Imperial Guard and unconsciously wore an expression of envy.

To abandon dull duties and sweat in the soil—how enviable.

"A while ago, my sister in Nippon Hive sent me a can."

"Inside was a pile of white powder. Thank the gods, I thought it was corpse starch and ate it all."

"Today my sister came and told me it was our mother's ashes."

"I was furious!"

"She was our shared mother—how could she eat the flesh herself and leave only the ashes for me?"

A weak, listless laugh echoed around them—hunger forbade them from laughing loudly.

Ran Val watched the people slumped on the streets, telling jokes, and his eyes held only envy.

Envy for the man who could still eat his mother's ashes, envy for those who still had the strength to laugh.

His mother also starved to death, but her corpse was quickly snatched away by others and devoured; Ran. Var didn't even get to gnaw a single bone.

Starving. So starving, Divine Emperor, please, don't punish me with hunger anymore, Ran. Var thought, head bowed.

With the last of his strength, Ran. Var glanced briefly at those around him, then lowered his head and began whispering a prayer, trying not to draw attention.

A prayer to a deity who had recently begun to spread through the hive-city, promoted even by nuns, and utterly unlike the Emperor's faith.

"Holy Doraemon, I am Ran. Var of Hive New South Wales, Lower Hive Sector Twenty-Two. Please grant me just a little food."

Ran. Var's voice was so faint, so tiny, he doubted even he could hear it.

But at that moment, a scent he had never smelled before brushed against his nose.

(End of Chapter)