Guilliman politely declined the bishops' request without a second thought.
Now was not the time.
Once they met, how could he possibly put these bishops in their place?
"Our meeting should only take place on the planet Espandor, in front of the most sacred cathedral, where the faith in the Emperor is strongest. This meeting will be held under the witness of my father, not on my flagship."
Guilliman's voice echoed through the many channels within the Espandor system, causing countless faithful to cheer.
Guilliman's words meant they had been recognized.
The Emperor's son considered their faith sacred, which excited them beyond measure, making their blood surge and their hearts feel as if a blazing fire had ignited within them.
The Lord of Ultramar was undoubtedly a devout follower of his father as well.
He was the Emperor's true spokesman, the most rightful representative of the Ecclesiarchy, and the embodiment of the Emperor's will.
Upon hearing Guilliman's words, the bishops apologized for their rashness and personally whipped their bodies with barbed iron rods as punishment for their arrogance and selfishness.
The Stormbirds they were riding in also joined Guilliman's fleet, majestically heading towards the spaceport of Espandor.
A grand ceremony was also being prepared.
Four hours later.
On the surface of the planet Espandor, in the largest city, the City of Faith.
Five colossal horns made of gold emitted sharp and hoarse sounds.
The deafening sound of the horns echoed throughout the massive city, filled with the scent of incense and prayers, reaching every corner, ensuring that every faithful could hear clearly.
The sound of the horns announced the arrival of the Emperor's son, the Lord of Ultramar.
These golden horns were crafted from the donations of the faithful, and inscribed upon them were countless scriptures.
Each horn weighed several tons and was placed on sturdy towers and high castle walls, used only for the most important celebrations.
As the hoarse roars of the horns slowly faded, the music played by the Ecclesiarchy orchestra, composed of countless faithful, followed.
The sounds of trumpets, horns, and bass drums converged, played to the rhythm of the Emperor's hymns, composed by a musical genius.
A large group of flying objects emerged from various majestic temples amidst the grand music.
Buzzing servo-skulls, cherubim resembling human infants, genetically engineered creations cloned by the Mechanicus, and elderly priests sitting on anti-gravity pulpits all flew over the crowds.
They appeared in the smoke formed by incense, and the fragrant smoke was stirred by the gilded banners they carried, forming vortices.
Over a dozen different hymns were chanted simultaneously to various beautiful melodies, mingling with the priests' shouts urging the faithful to revere the Emperor.
Thousands of senior priests emerged from their respective temples, some floating, some walking, some crawling, some riding mounts, each with a look of fanaticism and excitement on their faces.
Their servants followed closely behind, singing the Emperor's hymns in unison to outdo their peers and prove they were the most devout of the faithful.
Among the crowd, auto-preachers were advancing, their supporting mechanical arms constantly clanging.
These machines contained the brains of the most devout followers, specially treated and programmed to continue serving the Emperor.
They roared with religious phrases through primitive loudspeakers, encouraging people to devoutly sacrifice themselves to the Emperor.
Hunchbacked flagellants were scattered among the crowd, holding censers emitting wisps of blue smoke, chanting sacred Emperor's hymns.
On several extravagant parade floats, bishops held golden scepters, standing on platforms, delivering wildly fanatical speeches.
The heavy parade floats were pulled by a group of naked slaves, the heavy chains seemingly about to crush their sin-laden bodies.
The Sisters of Battle whipped the sinners who were not pulling hard enough, making them work even harder to pull the floats.
The welcome ceremony was unprecedentedly grand.
Every faithful was expressing their joy at the arrival of the Primarch in their own way.
As the anti-aircraft shields of the planet Espandor were lowered, numerous warships equipped with weapons capable of destroying worlds appeared in the dark atmosphere.
The massive Macragge's Glory was particularly eye-catching.
A squadron of Stormbirds flew out from the massive warship, all a uniform azure blue, with the edges of their wings adorned with touches of dark green, like the color of an ancient forest.
Behind the Stormbirds was a landing fleet composed of Thunderhawks, troop transports, and heavy gunships.
They were orderly and perfect, crossing the atmosphere and entering the spaceport of the City of Faith.
The sound of the airflow from the troop transports landing on the wide spaceport even drowned out the cheers of the faithful.
With a soft hiss of high-pressure gas, the troop transports slowly opened their ramps.
Five hundred Space Marines wearing crested helmets stepped out of the transports, their cloaks flapping behind them.
They formed two lines, gripping their bolters, standing on either side of the red carpeted walkway, scanning the surroundings for any possible threat.
Under the gaze of the expectant crowd, a living god finally appeared before the world.
He wore azure blue and bright gold armor, a simple and practical white cloak billowing behind him.
In the center of his breastplate was the golden emblem of the Imperial Aquila, and he wore a green laurel wreath on his flawless forehead.
Countless faithful erupted in cheers as this living god appeared, like a tidal wave, powerful and deafening.
Guilliman smiled and waved to the crowd, causing them to cheer even more wildly.
He stepped onto the anti-gravity hover platform parked nearby and proceeded along the wide avenue covered with a red carpet.
Amidst the cheers, Guilliman and his retinue arrived in front of the largest cathedral on Espandor.
A colossal statue of the Emperor, hundreds of kilometers tall, piercing the atmosphere, stood in the giant square in front of the cathedral.
The bishops waited for the Primarch at the entrance of the cathedral.
Once he stepped down from the hover platform, they approached one by one, bowing in respect.
"This ceremony is truly grand."
Guilliman looked at the bishops and said with a smile.
He knew the Ecclesiarchy was wealthy, after all, it was the Empire's only designated religion and could collect a religious tithe.
But walking along the way, the wealth of the Ecclesiarchy still astonished Guilliman.
The decorations of those cathedrals and their daily expenses were enough to support an army of considerable size.
And this was just a missionary planet; counting the other church planets, they could probably support a powerful army capable of sweeping away xenos.
"A little extravagance is necessary to spread the glory of the Emperor," one of the bishops stepped forward and explained respectfully.
"Very good, if the Emperor were to awaken and see your devotion, he would probably be very pleased," Guilliman said with a smile, uttering words that would earn him a slap from the Emperor on the spot.
The Emperor's greatest aversion in his life was religion; he wished he could tie all the priests to the stake.
In the early stages of the Great Crusade, wherever the Emperor went, even the ant nests in temples were doused with boiling water, which shows the Emperor's attitude towards religion.
At that time, Lorgar had only built Monarchia, and even he, a Primarch, was forced to kneel and admit his mistake, and the city Monarchia was directly burned to ruins.
The current Ecclesiarchy is infinitely more fanatical than Lorgar; if the Emperor from the Great Crusade were to travel to this era, the Ecclesiarchy would probably be the first thing he destroyed.
Hearing Guilliman's words, the bishops' faces flushed with excitement, their bodies trembling.
To be recognized by the Emperor's son was definitely of great benefit to the Ecclesiarchy.
Before these fellows could finish their excitement, Guilliman's tone changed, and his voice also rose significantly.
"However, while you are devout, you have not fully grasped my father's true intentions, and have even distorted them. Confusion arises in my heart, and I want to know if you have been misled, or if you are heretics by nature."
After speaking, Guilliman placed his hand on the Emperor's Sword.
This was the absolute manifestation of the Emperor's will, and it also highlighted Guilliman's identity, the Emperor's son.
The faces of the bishops, which had been flushed with excitement, suddenly turned pale.
Some were even so frightened that their legs turned to jelly and they collapsed to the ground.