Chapter 398: Speak, are you not a good Imperial Guard of Lord Huang?

Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien walked up the steps of the Lion's Gate, looking at the battlefield before him with a trace of weariness.

The entire outer palace had almost been leveled; war, blood, bombardment, and the ravages of the demon horde.

Now the tide of war had subsided; the Great Daemons were utterly annihilated, the remaining low-level demons were being swept up by the Adeptus Custodes and Grey Knights, and those who might have been corrupted were being taken away in batches by the Inquisition.

For this, Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien could only thank the mercy of Sanguinius and Saint Doraemon; due to the necessities of his duty, Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien had witnessed almost the entire war, and he felt his will had been shattered by those frenzied, horrifying scenes.

Eight Bloodthirsters were slaughtering lives, countless human skulls floating in a sea of blood.

Those monsters opened their blood-filled maws to unleash terrifying war cries; fire whips shattered Thunderhawks, chainsaw axes crushed tanks, and the ancient defenses of the palace were like the most inferior parchment before them.

The living Saint with the halo, accompanied by Abbess Mo Wen, slew one; the cooperating Grey Knights sent another away; Lord Mephiston of the Blood Angels displayed his terrible psychic power, crushing a full two Great Daemons; Captain Xiang Xiang Leina and Captain Valerian cooperated to kill one; and Custodes Marshal Trajan personally chopped off the head of another.

But it was not they who truly ended the battle.

When that beast, thousands of times more terrifying than the other eight Great Daemons, threw itself into the fray—Skarbrand—Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien was able to hear this name from the mouth of Saint Doraemon.

That demon named Skarbrand effortlessly smashed through the lines of the Adeptus Custodes; whether Grey Knights, Custodes, or powerful psykers like Captain Xiang Xiang Leina, none could stop that demon burning with blood.

They pressed on without hesitation, yet still could not stop that tide of blood.

That monster seemed the embodiment of rage, wildness, slaughter, and betrayal; there was nothing in the mortal realm that could stop him.

Until the figure wearing a cowboy hat and holding a revolver appeared.

Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien considered himself dull, yet he still felt the presence of Saint Doraemon and the Emperor on that youth.

Then came the sound of a gunshot and wails of agony.

Skarbrand was instantly killed by that bullet, but this was not yet over.

Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien clearly saw that bullet tear through the veil of reality and pierce into the Warp.

Then Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien—no, one should say the entire Terra, or perhaps even the entire galaxy—heard it.

They heard the sound of the bullet tearing through leg bones, heard the crimson face looking down upon Terra emit a sharp, angry, yet joyful howl.

Immediately, all Khorne demons within Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien's sight went lame on one leg, and the eyes that had held only rage revealed a barely perceptible cowardice.

Then, the Gate of Eternity opened; the Primarchs and Saint Doraemon joined the battlefield.

Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien's memory of the subsequent techniques became fragmented.

He only vaguely remembered some scenes.

Roboute Guilliman stood amidst the bloody wind and rain in a posture utterly different from his legendary image of reason, holding the Emperor's Sword blazing with bright flames before a demon far larger than himself.

Sanguinius, like a brilliant sun, tore through the dark clouds; the Spear of Victory fell like the Emperor's Tears, severing the surging sea of blood.

Saint Doraemon smiled, strolling upon the blood and battlefield, grabbing a demon and stuffing it into the pocket on his belly; even the Khorne demons, whose minds held only rage and the desire to kill, showed expressions of fear upon seeing Him, fleeing in panic.

Every time Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien recalled those scenes, his heart pounded, as if he had returned to childhood listening to those mythological stories of the Ecclesiarchy.

But what lay before him was not a story, not a myth, nor a legend.

People often say facts become stories, stories become legends, and legends ultimately degenerate into myths.

But Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien saw on that day, saw myths, legends, and stories become reality.

However, having witnessed this scene,

by all logic, even Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien, as high as the Imperial Prime Minister, could not escape those brutal interrogations.

Inquisitorial Thunderhawks swept over Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien's head like a flock of eagles.

One truly did not know where they had hidden; as soon as the battle ended, they swarmed out to arrest those who might have been corrupted or who had seen things they were not authorized to see.

Then came the interrogation, screening, hypnosis, suppression, and memory erasure; it was the same old measures.

Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien would have been one of them.

But Sanguinius gently used his psychic power to heal Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien's fragmented will, while Saint Doraemon pronounced Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien still pure with a red cross and a blue ring.

He was allowed to remain in the palace and continue his work.

During this time, Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien was almost like an automaton; finishing one task and moving to the next, speaking almost nothing except for necessary communications; his weight dropped, yet his body was more bloated than before; his mind held only a string of administrative duties: calculating losses, computing remaining rations and fuel, filling vacant official positions, and so on.

Finally, today he had gained a little time to rest; Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien had just reported the work of these few days to the Primarch Roboute Guilliman.

The biggest problem remained the areas of Terra that were still uncontrollable.

But the root cause of these uncontrollable problems lay not in people's disloyalty, not in people no longer believing in the Emperor.

It lay simply in the fact that Terra produced too little and consumed too much.

Food; massive amounts of food and water were needed to revitalize those out-of-control areas.

But Lord Guilliman only lifted his head wearily from the parchment scroll and indicated to Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien that Saint Doraemon would solve these problems.

No other further action was needed; one only had to wait for Saint Doraemon to begin acting.

Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien felt amazed by this.

Even Terra, protected by the Emperor, had never truly solved the food problem.

A somewhat blasphemous thought inexplicably popped into Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien's mind.

Could Saint Doraemon be more omnipotent than the God-Emperor?

This thought made Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien feel a sense of shame.

Just then, Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien saw a familiar yet unconfirmable figure rush past him.

They were several figures far taller than mortals, even slightly taller than Astartes, but Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien dared not confirm.

For they were not wearing the iconic golden armor, but only short shirts, as if hive world workers going to a factory or agricultural world farmers heading to the fields.

"Captain Valerian?" Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien asked hesitantly.

Shield Guard Captain Valerian turned his face, pale and grim, to look at Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien.

He nodded in salute to Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien, then ran off hurriedly.

This left Viceroy Viceroy Tiruien somewhat bewildered.

"Speak: I want to farm!"

"Will you farm or not?"

"Isn't this the Hua Di Huang's elite Imperial Guard?"

"Planting rice along the edges! Still saying farming is beneath you?"

"Is the land good for planting?"

"Smack!"

In the Imperial Palace, beneath the Sanctum, in a tunnel undetectable by any sensor,

Zhou Yun held a whip of unknown origin, tapping it against his palm as he spoke.

A group of Imperial Guards, not wearing their Golden Power Armor, lay prone in fertile rice paddies spread across carpets, planting seedlings one by one into the soil.

Hovering above their heads was a miniature sun, with tiny clouds drifting beside it, raining down.

Hearing Zhou Yun's scolding, the Imperial Guards' faces, already darkened by the sunlight, instantly turned darker than any black man.

【Item Name: Holiday Farming Set】

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

【Production Time: 261. m3】

【Function: A complete set of props including rice seedlings, a miniature sun, accelerated rain clouds, rice paddy carpets, and scarecrows. Typically used for children to experience agricultural life. When the seedlings are planted on the rice paddy carpets, the miniature sun provides sunlight, the accelerated rain clouds provide moisture, and the scarecrows ward off pests; then the seedlings will begin to grow rapidly and mature, producing sweet and delicious rice.】

At Zhou Yun's waist, the Chaos Clock, capable of adjusting the flow of time within a certain range, swayed gently.

Terra is currently extremely short on food,

so Zhou Yun exchanged for this Holiday Farming Set.

This set allows rice planted upon it to mature and be harvested quickly. The only drawback is that the prop was originally designed for children in the 22nd century to experience agricultural life, so someone must plant the crops.

Furthermore, to increase yield, Zhou Yun used the Chaos Clock to adjust the flow of time near the farmland.

Now, while two years pass within this tunnel, only one day passes outside; one month equals nearly sixty years.

The problem is that the physical constitution and lifespan of mortals simply cannot withstand such labor. Moreover, many mortals inside and outside the Imperial Palace have already been corrupted, and their loyalty is somewhat questionable.

Additionally, many mortal bureaucrats died in the Battle of the Lion's Gate. The Empire's administrative system is already critically short on personnel; all trustworthy and reliable mortals are already shouldering work far beyond their capacity.

Furthermore, the vast majority of people on Terra have absolutely no experience planting crops. Most of the food they eat consists of protein cakes, paste, or corpse starch produced by factories and transported by cargo ships.

One must find a group of people who are physically strong, have long lifespans, are loyal and reliable, hold unimportant jobs, and possess abundant knowledge to farm.

Then Zhou Yun set his sights on the Imperial Guard.

The Astartes are still busy reclaiming lost territories and driving out remaining demons and cultists. Moreover, most of them only know war; their farming skills can be gauged by how terrible the grapes on Baal are.

But the Imperial Guard? The Imperial Guard are simply born with the constitution for farming! Their bodies, crafted through bio-alchemy, are perfect and immortal; they cannot be corrupted and are loyal and reliable.

Unlike the Astartes, who were forged merely as warriors, they were trained in many fields of knowledge—including agricultural knowledge.

Most importantly, their job is to protect the Hua Di Huang.

The most dangerous place in the entire galaxy is the Hua Di Huang himself; does he even need protection?

In Zhou Yun's view, their profession is comparable to missile maintenance.

Do missiles even need maintenance? Does the Hua Di Huang even need protection?

Missiles might need maintenance, but the Hua Di Huang absolutely does not need protection.

With this idle time, they might as well come and farm some land for the people of Terra!

Isn't farming more useful than wandering around somewhere, playing blood games, or protecting the Hua Di Huang?

So Zhou Yun borrowed a batch of Imperial Guards from Grand Marshal Trajan and dragged them into this tunnel to farm.

The problem is that this group of Imperial Guards are arrogant and look down on farming deep in their hearts, feeling that making them farm is an insult to them, and they often complain to Zhou Yun.

"I am the Hua Di Huang's guard! My duty is to protect the Hua Di Huang!"

"How dare you make me farm! How dare you!"

"Smack!!"

(End of Chapter)