Chapter 424: Lord Kyriman Won Fifty Times in Fifty Days—and Won Again!

Hearing Uwula's cold, almost merciless words, Ilto felt pain surging through his nerves, as if his internal organs were about to rupture.

His lips trembled, his throat parched, he stared fixedly at Uwula, unable to utter a single word.

Mars had sided with Saint Doraemon and the Primarch.

This not only meant Ilto would lose his position as High Lord, but also that Mars, the vast manufacturing machine, would activate to support the Unyielding Expedition planned by the Primarch, meaning the Titan Legions and the Ecclesiarchy would stand with the Primarch and Saint Doraemon.

Ilto could already feel it—the Primarch's expedition had surged forward like a Glory Queen-class battleship with engines at full throttle, unstoppable.

He felt his lungs had turned to solid stone; every breath became excruciatingly difficult, and everything before him blurred.

If Tiruien had not announced the voting result, Ilto might have fainted already.

"On the motion to remove Ilto from the post of Neizheng Force Director: six votes in favor, four against, one abstention."

"According to the Sacred Imperial Law, Ilto's position as Neizheng Force Director is hereby revoked immediately."

Tiruien's voice was slow and soft, yet it struck Ilto like lightning, causing his body to convulse uncontrollably.

"Lord Ilto, please leave the council chamber."

Robert. Kyriman spoke softly:

"As you depart, kindly ask Violeta. Roskafler, who is waiting outside, to enter."

"He will be your successor."

Then Kyriman's gaze no longer rested on Ilto, but turned to the remaining High Lords.

"I suppose no further vote is needed?"

Naturally, not a single High Lord voiced opposition.

The rest of the council proceedings, in Zhou Yun's view, grew dull—Kyriman alone did all the talking, while the other High Lords gave perfunctory votes to approve his proposals.

Had it not been for the clowns wearing Blindspot Stars secretly performing comical acrobatics around him, Zhou Yun might have fallen asleep.

He resolved inwardly: he would never attend another High Lord council again.

When Zhou Yun finally sat there, utterly drained, the meeting paused temporarily; outside the palace, the sky had turned as black as ink.

The High Lords, except Uwula, exhaled deeply, heaved their stiff, dry, numb bodies from their chairs, and stumbled toward the exit of the Grand Council Hall.

This was not the end of the current High Lord council—it was merely a temporary mid-session "break"; the High Lords had ninety minutes to organize decrees concerning their departments from the meeting, swiftly issue them to their aides, draft implementation strategies, and process other documents from their departments, while also preparing new agenda items for the next session and submitting them to the Viceroy.

The lucky ones might snatch a bite to eat during this interval.

If the God-Emperor favored them, they might Mianqiang sleep for ten or so minutes under hypnosis and drugs—but such fortune had not occurred once in nearly a century.

Though this was only a break, Zhou Yun had already decided to slip away during this gap.

He simply could not stay any longer.

"Lord Zhou Yun." Tiruien stepped from the round table and gave Zhou Yun a slight Eagle Salute.

During this mid-session break, Tiruien, as Viceroy, was less burdened than the High Lords.

Before they submitted new agenda items, he still had a moment to breathe.

"I never expected Ilto could persuade the Grand Master of the Assassins' Guild." Tiruien's voice carried a hint of fear.

Every Imperial bureaucrat knew what the Assassins' Guild had done.

The memory of Wan Ge's massacre of the entire High Lord council a thousand years ago still loomed vividly.

To resist Kyriman's reform policies, Ilto had even persuaded the Assassins' Guild to abandon their neutrality and side with him.

That the Grand Master had been swayed meant the Assassins' Guild now stood with the conservatives—Tiruien felt his heart pound with dread.

"This is truly unexpected—if not for you persuading Wu De. Wu Di—"

Before Tiruien could finish, a buzzing mechanical roar cut him off.

General Uwula, due to his size, had not left the council chamber.

"Thanks to you persuading Uwula," Tiruien immediately corrected himself, "the vote would have ended in a five-to-five deadlock."

Hearing this, Zhou Yun couldn't help smiling and shook his head at Tiruien: "No, it wouldn't."

Tiruien visibly froze.

Had the High Admiral and one of the Fawu Force Ministers already defected to the reformists?

Or would the Imperial Guard abandon neutrality at the critical moment and side with the reformists?

Watching the stunned Tiruien, Zhou Yun's lips curled into a smile.

"You can leak this news," Zhou Yun whispered to Tiruien.

Tiruien faintly grasped Zhou Yun's meaning and gave a slight nod to show he understood.

Then he hurried out of the council chamber to his office to attend to his duties.

Zhou Yun stretched his limbs slightly, nodded to Uwula—who could not leave the chamber—and slipped out himself.

Terra's sky was choked with heavy clouds; looking up, no moon or stars could be seen, only a profound darkness.

According to the Wild Emperor's words, this was because warlords had used too much warp energy during the Unification Wars, inflicting trauma upon Terra's very existence.

Zhou Yun took a deep breath; filtered air tinged with ozone flooded his lungs, slightly easing his fatigue.

"Will you attend the next session?" Robert. Kyriman's voice sounded nearby.

The son of the Horned Emperor from Macragge was clearly waiting for Zhou Yun.

"Spare me," Zhou Yun rubbed his temples, speaking bitterly.

Kyriman's warp traits were growing more pronounced; Zhou Yun felt a vortex named "overtime" swirling around him, dragging everything nearby into its depths.

"I understand," Kyriman said calmly. "The Emperor did something similar. As the Great Crusade expanded and administrative burdens grew, he increasingly dumped work onto Macaroth."

"Of course, this history is now largely forgotten in the Empire."

"Just as I know this history and understand your exhaustion."

"If the Empire's bureaucrats could learn from history, they might better comprehend my policies."

"And if I could understand the history of the ten thousand years I slept, I might better understand the people of this age."

"More importantly: to know how the Emperor's plan gradually went astray, so we do not repeat his mistakes."

"What are you getting at?" Zhou Yun raised his eyebrows slightly, looking at Kyriman beside him.

"The Empire today ignores—or even destroys—the recording of history. But I believe we must understand history."

Kyriman spoke with genuine earnestness:

"If you wish to step away from the High Lord council, would you be interested in visiting a new department I've established for historical research?"

"Don't look so worried—it won't be a taxing job," Guilliman pressed on earnestly, his earnestness making Zhou Yun uneasy: "Aren't you planning to wait until after the High Lords' Council before traveling to Mars with the Forge General? In the meantime, you have nothing else to do, don't you?"

"Don't look like that—it won't be a burdensome job," Kyriman pressed eagerly, his intensity making Zhou Yun uneasy. "Aren't you planning to visit Jeanne, then go to the Merchant Adventurer Kaneya. Danda for some dorayaki? You have no other commitments during this time, do you?"

In fact, Kaneya. Danda intended to launch "Dorayaki Loved by Saint Doraemon" as a product, using ingredients grown by the Imperial Guard in the Undercrypt, then selling them at exorbitant prices to Terra's wealthy nobles to extract vast resources and holy relics, with a generous cut going to Zhou Yun.

Terra's nobility felt uneasy about the rise of the Saint Doraemon cult, especially since Zhou Yun's followers were primarily the poor, laborers, and low-ranking staff of the Underhive; systematic proselytizing among nobles had yet to begin.

The nobles feared waking up as heretics. Zhou Yun and Kaneya. Danda planned to exploit this fear, selling dorayaki as indulgences to drain wealth from the aristocracy.

"I'm no historian—why would you need me?" Zhou Yun asked, his face twisted in confusion.

"You're not a historian—you are history itself," Kyriman shook his head. "You come from humanity's distant Third Millennium; three thousand years of history are common knowledge to you, and you have a general understanding of the history that followed, even knowing many secrets."

"In this age, many have forgotten what history even is; historians are an ancient, alien concept."

"I've selected four people. I need you to teach them what history is, to give them a rough understanding of the past four millennia."

Watching Zhou Yun's silence, Kyriman revealed a sly smile.

"If you help me with this small favor, I can assist you and Kaneya. Danda with your dorayaki business."

"You can hand over all your accounting and management to me."

. Zhou Yun stared at Kyriman for a moment, then.

The Rational Historical Society, upon the podium,

Zhou Yun looked at the four official members of the Rational Historical Society and the dozen or so auxiliary staff behind them,

then at the desk, at the major works these new historians had completed in recent days.

"Lord Kyriman Won Fifty Times in Fifty Days—and Won Again!"

Zhou Yun read aloud the title of their work.

Now he already regretted agreeing to come here.

(End of Chapter)