The Warp was as turbulent as ever, echoing with never-ending storms.
Nurgle's Garden, the domain of the Chaos God Nurgle, was located deep within the Warp.
This bizarre space was a combination of jungles, swamps, vegetation, and green spaces, all materialized from unclean life.
The winding paths in the Garden were covered in diseased mud and worms, the air was constantly filled with clouds of plague and poison, buzzing swarms of plague flies, and laughing imps.
Plague-mouthed bushes, swollen poisonous fungi, and flowers growing pustules jostled each other, competing for space to grow.
The evil light from the Warp scattered over the plague forests and flesh thorns, casting spots of light filled with impurity and malice.
Everywhere in the Garden, viscous poison dripped, sickening bugs rustled, and nauseating bubbles burst.
This was an absolutely evil place; no living thing could survive in the Garden of the Plague God except for Nurgle's followers, who were skilled at enduring pain.
Normally, it was filled with laughter and appeared like a harmonious big family.
Nurgle's daemons were always so carefree; they were among the happiest of the many Chaos Gods.
The once lively Garden was now unusually quiet.
The few Great Unclean Ones most favored by Nurgle gathered together, looking with pity at the words on Ku'gath's body.
Feeling the mockery from the son of the Anathema, a wave of anger rose within them.
The words on Ku'gath's body held the power of the Anathema; the writhing flesh could not cover them, and the damage caused by the words could never heal.
These words, filled with humiliation, would forever remain on Ku'gath's body.
"What he did was too cruel, and equally infuriating," Ku'gath said, looking at himself with pity.
The Anathema's son had humiliated all of the kind father's subordinates, and also humiliated the kind father himself.
"Perhaps it's time to let Mortarion out; they are brothers and understand each other better," said Rotigus, the Rainfather.
"He will make that arrogant fellow pay the price."
"Let the Anathema's son know what a terrible mistake he has made."
"Let him suffer in agony and thus be driven to breakdown."
The Great Unclean Ones discussed their plan against Guilliman; they had decided to make this arrogant primarch pay the price.
Time in the Warp is meaningless, at least in relation to the outside world, it is meaningless.
The Great Unclean Ones deliberated for half a century, discussing every detail of the plan to make Guilliman taste the bitter fruit of arrogance, to make him suffer unbearable pain for his mistakes.
After the discussion, they each went to prepare.
Meanwhile, Mortarion received the message from Ku'gath.
Guilliman's arrogance and humiliation made him exceptionally angry.
Especially the words calling him useless, which made him even more furious.
Typhus had indeed escaped his control; his defection to Nurgle had been orchestrated by Typhus himself.
This matter had become a sore point for him; anyone who brought it up made him furious.
The former Jaghatai Khan had used this point to make Mortarion lose control in anger.
Now, Guilliman used the same trick, and Mortarion was equally enraged.
"I will come for you, Guilliman, and I hope you will be as arrogant and fearless then as you are now."
Mortarion's massive body trembled as he spoke these words.
He could no longer bear it and wanted to seek out his brother, to let him know that he was no longer the same as before.
Guilliman would pay the heaviest price for those words, Mortarion swore to himself.
So much time had passed within the Garden, but for the outside world, it was still only the day Ku'gath was expelled.
Time in the Warp is meaningless; its flow depends on the masters of each domain.
The daemons were expelled, and the leader of the traitors was killed.
The war on Sara was over; the plague warriors had nowhere to run, they had lost their warships, were trapped on the surface, and were subsequently executed by the loyalists.
The cultists were also being purged.
Their numbers were too large and they were scattered everywhere, making it not so easy to wipe them all out.
Space Marines and Astra Militarum were dispersed into small teams to encircle and eliminate them, and the results would come soon.
The surviving civilians were evacuated from the plague-ridden fortress and resettled in another area that had not been heavily contaminated.
Corresponding relief work was underway.
The Adeptus Mechanicus was cleaning and purifying the entire city.
Some accompanying Ecclesiarchy priests were also reciting the Emperor's prayers, working to dispel the Warp's corruption.
"Destruction is always easier than creation."
Guilliman stood on a half-shattered balcony, looking down at the damaged hive city, and shook his head.
The place he was in now was where the hive city's ruler had stayed.
From the undamaged parts, one could see the luxury of this place in the past.
Various precious artworks were placed everywhere, and the advanced technology of the Adeptus Mechanicus was also perfectly applied.
It was used to provide the most comfortable life for the master of this place.
The gap between the rich and poor in the Imperium had reached an extremely terrifying level; the nobles in the upper levels of the hive city could enjoy grain and fruits from other agricultural worlds.
They controlled the distribution of wealth in the hive city, making their lives incredibly refined and unimaginably luxurious.
The workers and scavengers in the middle and lower levels, however, lived extremely miserable lives.
The middle level could still enjoy some synthetic meat or livestock that was force-grown.
Various guilds and power brokers would also establish some regulations and laws to maintain order in order to ensure industrial output.
As for the bottom level, it was questionable whether they could even be considered human.
They ate corpse starch and the garbage that the upper levels didn't want.
Order, or anything like it, did not exist.
Gangs were rampant, mutants, rogue psykers, monsters living in the darkness.
Waiting for them was only endless slaughter for survival.
To be honest, with such a terrifying gap between rich and poor, it's no wonder that cultists who worship Chaos emerge one after another.
The bottom level of the hive city provided fertile ground for Chaos to corrupt humanity.
Large numbers of people from the bottom level who could not bear the suffering chose to betray the Human Emperor and pledge allegiance to Chaos.
Not only Chaos, but even the spies of the tyranids had developed many cults within the Imperium.
Using slogans like equality and freedom, they were often able to deceive a large group of people into serving them wholeheartedly.
"This situation must be changed, otherwise humanity can only fall into endless internal strife."
Guilliman knew very well that the biggest problem of the Imperium lay within the Imperium itself; no matter how Chaos invaded, it couldn't hide the fact that many traitors chose Chaos because they had no hope and were oppressed.
The Ecclesiarchy, the Inquisition, the High Lords of Terra, these institutions maintained the integrity of the Imperium to a certain extent, but their chaotic and bureaucratic rule also provided a large number of soldiers to Chaos.
If the inherent problems of the Imperium cannot be crushed, there will be no future.
Footsteps sounded.
Sicarius walked in, "My lord, the representatives from Sara have arrived."
"Let them come over."
Guilliman collected his thoughts and walked towards the hall that had just been cleaned.
The bodies had been removed, and the bloodstains had been washed away once, but the bullet holes and scorch marks were still very obvious; the traces of war are not so easily erased.
Guilliman didn't care about these things; the simplicity or luxury of the office wouldn't affect his decisions and thinking.
A group of people dressed in luxurious clothes walked in; to greet this important moment, some of them had even specially sprayed perfume and found their cleanest, most luxurious clothes.
"Respectful Primarch."
They bowed respectfully, their obsequious appearance filled with flattery.
"I am the planetary governor of Sara , thank you for your arrival, Primarch; you have saved us.
By the Holy and Great Emperor above, this must be the reward for our loyalty to the Imperium and loyalty to the Emperor."
A fat man stepped forward; his body was so bloated, the superfluous fat layered upon layer; if he were splashed with green paint, he could instantly play a Plaguebearer.
Guilliman frowned slightly, scanned the group of people, and his brows furrowed slightly.
They were clean and fair-skinned, plump, and showed no signs of injury.
Their clothes were luxurious and expensive, and several people even had well-made bionic limbs; these were definitely not things ordinary people could possess.
Guilliman turned to look at Sicarius, his gaze filled with confusion; were these the representatives of Sara?
Sicarius felt his lord's confusion and quickly explained, "They are the planetary governor of Sara and the most influential families; I found them deep inside a fortress and brought them to see you."
"Sicarius, this is the first time, and the last time.
I am not angry with you because I have never accurately informed you of the true reason we fight."
Beneath Guilliman's calm words, anger was hidden.
"Tens of billions of people died on this world, yet they are alive and well, without even a single scratch, and even their clothes remain spotless.
Is this something to be proud of?
They accepted positions that were supposed to protect civilians, yet they used such power to protect themselves, abandoning their duties.
Is this kind of behavior something to be encouraged?
Those who suffered are healing alone, while these shameless people have usurped their credit.
Do you think this is fair?
Sicarius, what do you fight for?
Do you fight to protect a group of maggots, and not to protect the citizens of the Imperium?
Make them leave, and find a true representative to see me, Sicarius."