Chapter 554: The Ultimate Face Cream

Upon the Golden Throne, the Emperor of Mankind sat motionless, like a statue, as if he had been seated there since the end of time, and as if he would remain thus until the end of the universe.

But only the Imperial Guard knew the Emperor was not entirely unchanged—in recent decades, flesh had slowly regrown upon his body.

And all of this was because.

Valerian, Captain of the Shield Guard, patrolled while glancing up at the steps beside the Golden Throne.

Upon those steps lay a sleeping mat, where a man rested his head upon a pillow embedded with intricate mechanical structures, sleeping beside the Golden Throne.

His presence made the solemn, sacred Throne Hall seem slightly absurd, as if he existed on a different layer from everything else within it.

Beside the man sat cross-legged a boy with glasses and a crew cut, a revolver and a dead blade named Denkōmaru strapped to his waist.

He was the avatar of Saint Doraemon, the once-legendary Yebi Daxiong who had once shot off Khorne's thigh. But after Saint Doraemon fell asleep, Yebi Daxiong did not join him in slumber—he remained awake, occasionally leaving the Throne Hall, no one knowing where he went.

Valerian had heard rumors from outside: some claimed the Emperor was using Saint Doraemon's avatar to walk among mortals.

But—Valerian had seen it himself multiple times: Yebi Daxiong watched the Emperor upon the Golden Throne with wary eyes.

At that moment, Valerian's superhuman senses sharply detected a figure.

A woman clad in Cadia military uniform approached—its fabric faded from washing, yet immaculately clean, not torn. Her face was quite beautiful, save for a deep, jagged scar upon her cheek.

She tied her hair into a ponytail, carried a bucket, and climbed the steps before the Golden Throne.

She was Lady Leina, commander of the Cadia 184th Regiment.

In a sense, they were the Saint Doraemon's Imperial Guard.

Lady Leina's Cadia 184th Regiment and Lady Jeanne's contingent of Battle Sisters rotated every ten years to guard the sleeping man—that is, to guard Saint Doraemon's slumbering body.

Leina nodded to Captain Valerian, then temporarily deactivated the Chrono Clock surrounding Zhou Yun, wiping the dust from his face with a damp towel.

The Chrono Clock distorted time: years passed within its field while only seconds elapsed outside; thus, dust naturally accumulated on the man's body, requiring frequent cleaning.

Leina first wiped Zhou Yun's face clean, then pulled from her pocket a tin bearing the Mark of the Ultramarines and applied its contents to his face.

Valerian had once asked Leina out of curiosity.

She told him it was a special cream gifted by the Ultramarines, once used to preserve the primarch Robust Kiriman within stasis fields, forming an ion field that automatically repelled nearby dust.

Valerian had requested some of the Ultramarine cream himself, occasionally applying it to the Emperor.

Indeed, after using it, the Emperor appeared more radiant.

After wiping Saint Doraemon's face, Leina replaced all the bedding, then shouldered the soiled linens and walked out of the Throne Hall.

Technically, such duties need not be performed personally by Lady Leina.

But now, two divine beings slept within the Throne Hall; the Imperial Guard would not permit anyone else to enter.

And Lady Jeanne, who also worshipped Saint Doraemon, distrusted the Imperial Guard. After prolonged disputes, it was decided only Jeanne and Leina could ascend the steps before the Golden Throne to tend to Saint Doraemon's body.

The great doors of the Throne Hall slowly closed; Leina briefly departed. Valerian's gaze lingered on the closing doors.

Many Imperial Guards had left the Throne Hall, journeying among the stars under Kiriman's command, yet most still preferred to remain here, directly guarding the Emperor.

But Valerian was unlike most—he longed to venture among the stars, to use the body the Emperor had granted him to protect humanity. Deep down, he even felt that this was precisely what the Emperor intended for them to do.

Unfortunately, Marshal Trajan had kept him in the Throne Hall. Valerian sighed inwardly.

Sssss.

Valerian's senses instantly detected a sound; his alertness flared. He gripped his power spear tightly and turned toward its source.

"Haaaaaaaaaa—"

A long, drawn-out yawn echoed through the Throne Hall, as if a being who had slept for tens of thousands of years had finally awakened.

"Leina's slathering cream on my face again—like I'm Kiriman."

Zhou Yun grumbled, rubbing his face and wiping off the sticky cream.

Then he stretched, loosening his numb limbs, crawling out from the bedding, and moving his body.

He felt his body had stiffened like lead after years of slumber; after much movement, blood finally began to flow again.

The instant his body revived, Zhou Yun turned his head toward the three-year Nintama Pillow still on the bed.

Looking at the object, his expression twisted—complex, numb, barely holding back.

Twenty-two thousand, two hundred and twenty-two dreams still swirled in his mind, leaving him with an unbearable sense of numbness.

This was the principle of the three-year Nintama Pillow: endlessly looping dream simulations until the user received the answer they sought. Hence, the more complex the question, the longer it took to reach an answer.

Though 22nd-century technology prevented psychological collapse from twenty thousand dream cycles, cycling through the Warhammer universe twenty thousand times still left Zhou Yun exhausted, numb, and pained.

He had indeed received his answer—but his gaze upon the three-year Nintama Pillow remained filled with revulsion.

"I hereby sentence you as the First Prison of the Miao Miao Artifact Dungeon!" Zhou Yun cursed, kicking the three-year Nintama Pillow away.