Zhou Ye was not fond of being worshipped, but he also knew that suppression was less effective than redirection. The whole mess with the Golden Fiend was a prime example, so Zhou Ye devised a compromise.
He would allow them to worship both him and the Golden Fiend together. Then, he would simply switch his own connection to "auto-reject" mode. If they only worshipped him, that power would still surge toward him. But in this new scenario, any rejected power, unable to find its primary target, would naturally flow to the secondary one.
Despite this solution, Zhou Ye still issued a strict decree: the statues could only be erected within their monastery. This applied not only to these Sons of the Phoenix but to everyone else as well.
Except for the Lamenters... they could go worship their Gene-Primogenitor, Sanguinius, and stop bothering him.
---o---
At this moment, Rylanor gazed upon the sacred monastery, overwhelmed with emotion. As an old veteran from Terra, he was fundamentally opposed to worshipping the Golden Fiend as a god. But things were what they were, and there was nothing he could do about it.
The only thing he found amusing was the tale of Lorgar, a man who had practically perfected the art of being a clown.
Then there was the matter of the gene-seed. He was certain Zhou Ye had added his own special ingredients. He might have even mixed in his own gene-seed, but so what? After seeing these Sons of the Phoenix raise their blades against Fulgrim, that detail seemed utterly trivial.
The firstborn of this new generation of Emperor's Children had already proven themselves and had been transferred by Zhou Ye into his personal honor guard. The fabricated "Artificial Honkai Collapse" had turned out to be quite effective, not causing any extreme or permanent mutations. Better still, they reverted to their human forms after deactivation. The only real headache was the massive energy consumption, but that would be greatly alleviated once the Star Rail network was deployed.
As such, he planned to conduct a long-term study on this first and only successful case. After all, the Emperor had his own personal guard, the Legio Custodes. What was wrong with him creating his own?
"Ancient, I feel I am unworthy of such an honor. I was defeated soundly," Ashira said, his voice laced with shame as he looked at the golden helmet in Rylanor's hands.
This was not the laurel wreath of an Ultramarine or someone like Titus; Zhou Ye had little interest in laurel leaves. The imagery held powerful symbolism in the West, so Zhou Ye had simply modified his own champion's helmet design. The final shape was somewhat inspired by the Gundam Unicorn, giving it the distinct illusion of a mechanical suit.
It was a symbol of glory, but Ashira felt he had not earned it.
"You have done exceptionally well. Your opponents were a veteran of the Emperor's Children from ten thousand years ago and Slaanesh's Chosen Champion, Lucius. To have survived an encounter with him is, in itself, a symbol of perfection."
Recalling the event, a trace of fear lingered for Rylanor. He had become enraged upon seeing Fulgrim, and Fulgrim had lost his senses upon seeing him. In their mutual fury, he had almost gotten this young man of limitless potential killed. He had completely forgotten about Lucius. But the outcome was good.
For a new recruit, this warrior's record was already astounding. To survive his very first battle against a Chosen Champion of Lucius's caliber was a monumental feat. Though he still needed to polish his skills, he was more than deserving of the title of champion.
There was no need for guilt. With his massive Dreadnought arm, Rylanor slowly placed the champion's helm upon Ashira's head.
"Return to the Primarch's side, my boy, and continue to advance. The day you utterly defeat Lucius will come, and it will not be far off."
A smile touched Rylanor's synthesized voice. Lucius had truly been disgraced.
Soon, Ashira, clad in black armor and carrying a golden sword, departed from the monastery. His departure ignited an even fiercer ambition among the remaining Sacred Sons of the Phoenix. With the Company Champion gone, it was time for them to contend for the new title. They, too, wanted to join the honor guard. They, too, wanted to become My Lord's personal head chef. So...
"Now then, let the celebration begin."
A bit of relaxation was necessary after a major battle. Rylanor intended to hold a traditional celebration of the Emperor's Children, but...
Vzzt.
The moment the words left his lips, the entire monastery erupted into a flurry of activity. In the blink of an eye, the Emperor's Children had swapped their wargear for basic fatigues, their ceremonial accessories replaced with pots, pans, bowls, and ladles.
"Let the competition to decide the next Special Grade Chef begin!!!"
"HOORAH!!!"
"..."
Rylanor froze, watching the Space Marines instantly rush off to light stoves and flip woks. A moment later, a sense of resignation washed over him, and he shook his massive chassis. The Emperor's Children of the past were gone. Perhaps this was for the best. Besides, if he let this group pursue art, Rylanor felt they would have galloped off in the most abstract direction imaginable, with no hope of reining them in.
As the thought crossed his mind, a wave of weariness washed over him, and the ancient warrior sank into a deep slumber.
---o---
"Didn't I tell you to handle political affairs? What is all this? Is your Planetary Governor just some useless heir who inherited his position?"
Zhou Ye stared, dumbfounded, at the stack of documents before him. He grabbed the Planetary Governor and lifted him into the air. The man, dangling more than four meters off the ground, swallowed nervously.
"My Lord, it's really not my fault! Please, take a closer look at what these documents are."
"Oh?"
Hearing this, Zhou Ye picked one up and froze for a moment.
"Cruiser Approval Application, from the 4th Company (Shadowmoon Wolf Pack)""Gene-Seed Application Procedure""Solar Auxilia Recruitment Request""New Weapons Factory Construction Proposal""..."
"My Lord, I truly don't dare to handle matters concerning the Astartes. And on your way back this time, you brought another ten million-plus people with you. Just settling them is a massive project!" the Planetary Governor explained, on the verge of a breakdown.
While it was the honor of his family to serve this great lord, the problems were genuinely overwhelming. On his return journey, Zhou Ye had casually scooped up a population of over ten million people. They were almost entirely underhivers and scavengers, none older than twenty, with many in their early twenties already having two or three children. Zhou Ye had brought over these "high-quality citizens" in one go. The planetary governors he took them from had simply waved their hands and told him to take as many as he wanted.
Along the way, he had also wiped out a good number of Genestealer and Chaos cults. When they arrived, the Planetary Governor was simply stunned. This was a colossal influx of people, and he had been summoned by Zhou Ye from amidst a sea of paperwork.
"Alright, you can go back to your work."
Zhou Ye stared at the documents, fell silent for a moment, and then dismissed him. A shimmer of light enveloped his body. The suit of power armor dematerialized, and his body returned to its original height of about 1.8 meters. He wasn't some Primarch, after all, just an ordinary human.
"I need a new plan. Prepare for the second phase of Astartes production. The focus will be on strengthening civil administration. We need to make the Legions learn governance and diplomacy... forget it. I'll just start by whipping up some modified Smurfs."
Looking at all the work, Zhou Ye couldn't be bothered. This was just the beginning; he had far more important things to do. First was creating more gene-seed, this time adding some private modifications related to civil administration. After all, he still had that enormous Space Hulk he hadn't even begun to process.
He estimated he wouldn't be leaving his new world for many years. As for who would help him manage internal affairs, he planned to create some Ultramarines. Since he already had an Ultramarine Dreadnought, having a few living Ultramarines would be fitting.
With that decided, Zhou Ye spent a few minutes reading, processing, and approving all several hundred documents. He was planning a military expansion, aiming to increase the number of "tin cans" under his command to around ten thousand. The recent apocalyptic-level battles had incurred losses. He had deployed two-thirds of his Astartes against Fulgrim, while many others remained behind, grinding away at construction projects, and they too had suffered casualties.
He needed to replenish his forces quickly. From the ten million new arrivals, he planned to create a thousand new Astartes. It wasn't that he couldn't produce more, but he needed to maintain a certain standard of quality. His recruitment philosophy was similar to that of the Great Crusade era; the limiting factor on Astartes numbers was never a lack of suitable candidates, but rather the constraints of the Codex Astartes and the availability of gene-seed.
As for the so-called Codex Astartes, in Zhou Ye's eyes, it was Guilliman's toilet paper. He wouldn't pay it any mind. Besides, he had other plans.
"Large-Scale Memory Implantation Plan"
This was a special technique he had developed to directly implant a certain amount of memory into a person's mind. It would be a quick and convenient way to train workers for different jobs, though he wouldn't implant too much information at once.
After delegating everything to Klee, Zhou Ye entered the Thousand-Person Theater. Gazing at the horrifyingly immense wreck of the Space Hulk, he couldn't help but lick his lips.
It was time to reap his harvest.
Although the plan had encountered many twists and turns, he had ultimately achieved his objective. He had even gained a few small bonuses along the way. Now, all that was left was to fully digest his gains. It would be a colossal undertaking, but a joyful one.
To this end, Zhou Ye used his Authority to alter the flow of time within the Thousand-Person Theater. Several days inside would equate to just one hour outside.
---o---
While Zhou Ye was getting busy, Inquisitor Chris was compiling his own data, including the latest battle report and a massive collection of consolidated video logs.
"Incredible. The losses were truly minimal this time. My Storm Troopers lost only a third of their number. The Flesh Tearers suffered less than a fifth in casualties. The Black Templars were hit the hardest; they lost half their force since they boarded the Battle Moon directly."
Chris found the numbers almost miraculous. As for the Dark Angels and Ultramarines, they had suffered practically no losses, as they had brought very few warriors, all of whom were the best of the best.
"One copy goes to the Departmento Munitorum on Terra, the other to Fenris... is it because of that Space Wolf Dreadnought? It seems I'll need to pay attention to their relationship with the Space Wolves... though perhaps not. Their Dreadnought contingent includes an Imperial Fist, an Ultramarine, a Blood Angel, and... an Emperor's Child."
Staring at the data, Chris felt a headache coming on. In an era where no Primarchs had returned, these Ancients from ten thousand years ago held immense authority. A single word from any one of them could mobilize their entire First Founding Chapter and all its successors.
Adding the Space Wolf Dreadnought that Typhus had wrecked to the list, Chris felt like he was staring at a vast, intricate web. This "My Lord" could already mobilize a significant portion of the Imperium's strength. At that thought, he gave up trying to comprehend it. This was a problem far above his pay grade.
After watching the ships depart for the Fenris system and Holy Terra, he gunned his own vessel's engines and set a course for Macragge.
---o---
Soon... on Fenris, a world perpetually shrouded in ice and snow.
"This is the best I can do. At least it's mobile. I had thought you would fall into a deep slumber, but you awoke surprisingly quickly. It seems not much time has passed for you in the Warp," a high-ranking Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus remarked with some surprise, looking at the Dreadnought before him.
Waking a ten-thousand-year-old Dreadnought was no easy feat, yet this one from the Wolf-Brothers had awakened with remarkable ease. The battered Contemptor before him had been restored to its former glory, at least on the outside. Internally, it was still a wreck of broken systems. It couldn't possibly engage in combat; it would fall apart instantly. This was the absolute limit of what he could achieve.
To this day, he still found it incredible how the "wetware," which had been practically minced meat, had been re-interred. It felt like it had been pieced together from scraps of flesh found on the floor. That Magos Biologis must be truly formidable.
"Ancient, we've received a new battle report!"
Just then, a young Wolf Cub burst into the chamber excitedly. All the Space Wolves currently on Fenris were gathered. With the Ancient now awake, the Great Wolf had invited him to view the report as well. Based on the dispatches so far, it seemed to concern the Ancient's original Legion, and the report had been sent at the personal request of another Contemptor Dreadnought. It was only natural that he be present.
Soon, within the great hall of the Fang, the atmosphere was boisterous. The Great Wolf, Logan Grimnar, sat upon his throne. Seeing the Ancient arrive, he immediately and warmly invited him to take a seat.
The compiled video logs began to play.
A hush fell over the entire Fang. They saw the colossal Space Hulk, the swarming tides of Genestealers and Orks that could level mountains and fill seas. The scenes of battle left the Wolf Cubs speechless.
Finally, when Fulgrim appeared, a dead silence descended upon the fortress-monastery. And in that moment...
"NO!!!"
---o---