Chapter 80: The Cursed One and the Blue Weasel Cat

Swollen pustules spread from the curved blade along the tower-like subspace engine,

this ancient metallic artifact seeming to contract a blasphemous disease from the depths of the Subspace,

from the deep, dark circular ring near the upper part of the tower, the Storm of the Highest Heaven surged forth,

the boundary between reality and the physical universe slowly shattered, torn apart,

gales erupted from the subspace engine, dominating the entire underground palace,

only to hear waves of joyful laughter echoing through the air, the surrounding atmosphere growing heavy, hot, and murky,

a rift opened centered on the subspace engine, spewing forth violent storms of brilliant green, gray, and yellow, forming a profound vortex,

through that howling vortex, Zhou Yun could see the scene within the Highest Heaven,

that luxuriant garden, blooming with countless flowers, teeming with countless fungi, crawling with countless diseases,

that sacred domain of the Father of All, the Garden of Nurgle.

In the garden, Nurgle Spirits laughed in celebration of their success,

the Rain Father shook his massive belly, waved his yew branches, and continually praised them,

he was about to lead the Nurgle Demons into reality,

another planet would soon accept the Father’s mercy.

This gateway to the Subspace was far stronger than the one opened last time by the Lord of Change,

this gateway could truly allow the Nurgle Legions to invade reality and drag the entire Asford into the Father’s domain.

“How come you’re just like one of my gene-brothers—failing at the critical moment?” said the winged figure within the white light, its voice hollow.

“Who are you calling Guilliman? Huh? Who are you calling Guilliman!” Zhou Yun leaned against the metal pillar, his voice hoarse.

“I never said Guilliman. Don’t try to stir trouble among the three of us in the Second Empire.”

The winged figure in the white light shrugged,

“Things are looking bad—if Asford falls, the Tyranid Hive Fleet can invade Baal without any resistance.”

“The virus on you infects both material and immaterial realms; even if I can shield you in the immaterial, my power in the material realm is severely limited.”

“The good news is, this opening of the Subspace gateway has strengthened my influence over the physical universe.”

The winged figure in the white light indeed grew brighter, more radiant.

“I will attempt to manifest in the physical universe to aid you against the Nurgle Legions.”

“But here, there are no churches of mine, no offspring—manifesting here will cost me dearly.”

Here, the winged figure in the white light paused,

“I may not be able to speak directly with you for a long time.”

“When the Tyranid Swarm invades Asford, I will no longer be able to assist—you’ll have to rely on yourself and my offspring.”

The winged figure in the white light’s tone was filled with trust and entrustment toward Zhou Yun:

“Oh, by the way, remember to do something special for me on Baal.”

“And on Baal, don’t reveal your true purpose until the very last moment—He is watching.”

As the winged figure in the white light spoke, its glow intensified, forcing Zhou Yun to squint.

“Wait.” Zhou Yun interrupted hoarsely, “Who the hell said I—hmm?”

“Hmm?” The winged figure in the white light, halfway manifested, also froze.

Malakit, standing before the Subspace gateway, could not help but turn its head.

From the entrance of the underground palace came a series of footsteps,

the footsteps grew clearer, like drumbeats striking the hearts of everyone in the palace,

a girl stepped slowly from the palace entrance, as if an ancient sovereign descending from His throne to re-enter the mortal world.

Malakit recoiled in terror,

it was utterly terrified—before it stood only a slender girl dressed in ordinary synthetic fabric,

just an ordinary girl with hair turned dry and straw-like,

just a child with eyes as hazy as a fawn’s,

yet every nerve in Malakit screamed in fear,

“Who are you?!”

Malakit’s voice rose sharply, its terror unmistakable:

“I remember now! You’re the girl who came with Zhou Yun? Liana?”

No sooner had Malakit spoken than it shook its head, rejecting its own memory.

“No, you’re not—you couldn’t be, but this?!”

Malakit sensed what it faced, yet refused to believe it.

Behind it, from the Subspace gateway, sharp gales howled forth,

but as the Subspace winds, thick with supernatural viruses, brushed over the girl, a faint golden glow ignited upon her,

this light repelled the blasphemous power of the Highest Heaven, burning away all disease,

the girl took a step forward, light-footed, radiant with golden light,

the haziness in her fawn-like eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by piercing, unyielding gaze,

her dry hair unfurled, drifting with the Subspace winds, becoming smooth as newly forged gold,

Malakit found its gaze locked upon the girl, forced to meet her eyes,

those eyes were as ancient as the oldest stars, having witnessed every moment from humanity’s first city to its first starship carving its path through the galaxy,

Malakit understood, Malakit saw,

behind the girl loomed a golden throne, towering to the deepest reaches of the Highest Heaven,

atop the throne, the King of Corpses cast His gaze into the material universe,

within His hollow, blood-red eyes, a cold, dark sun blazed fiercely.

Malakit’s throat formed the word, yet dared not speak it,

as if uttering that name would reduce it to ash on the spot,

it could only retreat in fear, trying to draw closer to the Father’s garden for even a sliver of comfort,

Malakit, voice hoarse, spoke the name it had heard countless times from angels:

“The Cursed One.”

The word burned fiercely in the air, terrifying.

Beneath the metal pillar,

in Zhou Yun’s corner, the winged figure in the white light watched the scene, bewildered and confused,

he muttered in a low voice, unable to help himself: “Father?”

That word too burned in the air.

“My dynasty—the ten-thousand-year-old golden weasel has manifested!” Zhou Yun blurted out.

The word chilled the air abruptly,

Liana turned her head; the Corpse King upon the golden throne behind her also cast His gaze.

“Blue. Weasel. Cat.”

A complex voice, laden with immense information, echoed as if ten thousand voices spoke at once:

“Blue weasel cat.”

“Blue weasel cat!”

(End of Chapter)