165: The Primarch's Wrath! This rotten empire must be cleansed!

"Very well."

Guilliman raised his massive fist, covered by the hand of dominion, and traced a vast trajectory on the star map connecting Macragge to the distant Sol System.

"Then, as my Chief Advisor, let us plan... the route for the crusade to Terra."

"The Indomitus Crusade begins now."

Zhang Yuan's expression, a smile uglier than crying, froze on his face; he only nodded mechanically and stiffly.

Guilliman did not look at him again, merely issuing a short command to the outside of the door.

"Calgar, escort the Governor back to rest."

As the words fell, the heavy alloy door slid open silently, and the burly figure of Marius Calgar appeared in the doorway.

He glanced at the subtle shift in the room's atmosphere, then at the ashen-faced Zhang Yuan, before finally bowing to Guilliman.

"As you command, Father."

Zhang Yuan followed Calgar out, moving with an awkward, stiff gait, feeling as if every step were on the edge of a blade.

He could feel that gaze, like the stars themselves, watching him from behind until the door slowly closed.

'Chief Advisor...' Zhang Yuan chewed over the title in his heart, feeling only bitterness.

This was no advisor; it was clearly the first living sacrifice tied to the demigod's war chariot!

In his mind, he could already picture himself standing on Terra, being flayed by the gazes of countless fanatical believers and Inquisitors.

'Old schemer... that old schemer on the Golden Throne really didn't have good intentions!' He cursed inwardly, but dared not pause, fearing that the door behind him might open again.

The door closed completely.

Guilliman was left alone in the room once more.

He did not move, simply standing quietly before the massive holographic star map.

The countless points of light representing the Empire's territory were no longer symbols of glory and greatness in his eyes.

"A... walking, magnificent corpse."

Zhang Yuan's voice, calm to the point of cruelty, echoed repeatedly in his mind.

Guilliman raised his hand and tapped lightly on the console's runes.

The holographic star map switched instantly, and post-war reports from Macragge's administrative departments unfolded before him like snowflakes.

He opened the first report, which was from the Ecclesiarchy High Prelate of Hera Fortress.

The entire text was filled with florid, hollow rhetoric, praising the return of the "Son of God," celebrating the arrival of the "Emperor's Miracle," and requesting the Primarch to bless a newly painted, gem-encrusted, massive battle banner.

At the very end of the report, in a tiny space, it mentioned the casualty statistics of civilians, but the numbers were vague, merely calling them "acceptable sacrifices."

Guilliman's expression did not change; he simply dismissed the report.

"Maggots..."

He opened the second report. It was the minutes of a joint meeting between the Ultramarines logistics department and the Adeptus Mechanicus Tech-Priests.

The logistics officer requested an urgent modification of some Rhino armored personnel carriers, adding extra external ammunition boxes to address the lack of firepower in urban combat.

That Tech-Priest, however, had cited three pages of ancient scripture, arguing that the Rhino's Standard Template Construct (STC) was sacred and inviolable, and that any modification was a blasphemy against the omnissiah.

He suggested using more pious prayers and holy oil anointing rituals to strengthen the vehicles' "machine spirit" to achieve victory.

Guilliman clenched the hand of dominion, the joints of the metal gauntlet groaning under the strain.

He offered no comment, simply marking this report as "discarded" as well.

"...clinging to the bones left before the corpse rotted."

The third report was from the Astra Militarum Commander responsible for guarding the outer starport.

The report detailed how they had lost seventy percent of their forces under the Chaos Fleet's surprise attack, and how they had heroically used their mortal flesh to battle the Chaos Space Marines for over a dozen hours until the Ultramarines arrived to reinforce them.

The lines were filled with pride and glory.

But Guilliman's gaze fell upon a structural diagram of the starport attached to the report.

By simply closing three main energy gates, the raided area could have been completely sealed, trapping the enemy inside.

That should have been the most basic part of the defensive protocol.

He pulled up the relevant tactical logs.

The logs showed that the duty Commander had missed the optimal time for the lockdown because he feared the blame for "abandoning a position."

That decision turned the "heroic sacrifice" of tens of thousands of soldiers into a meaningless massacre.

"Bang!"

Guilliman slammed his hand onto the console, the holographic projection instantly dissipating into streams of data before fading into darkness.

The room went completely dark.

Only his deep blue eyes burned with cold flames in the darkness.

Stagnation, decay, ignorance, superstition.

This Empire was clinging to life by using his father's corpse.

Every word Zhang Yuan spoke was like a red-hot steel needle, piercing the nerves he had just awakened after ten thousand years of slumber.

It was not that he hadn't seen it, or hadn't felt it.

But the whispers of those maggots, that fanatical worship, and those mountains of reports whitewashing the peace were like a thick shroud, attempting to cover the truth.

And Zhang Yuan, this outsider, this "Governor" of unknown origin, had ripped away this cloth in the most brutal manner.

He had let Guilliman see every wriggling maggot on that giant corpse, every wound oozing with pus and blood.

And those sharks circling in the darkness, grown large by feeding on the Empire's own negative emotions.

Khorne, Nurgle, Tzeentch, Slaanesh.

Zhang Yuan hadn't used these names, but the essence he described was more precise than any top-secret Inquisition file.

They did not want the Empire to die, nor did they want the Empire to recover.

They only wanted this corpse to struggle forever in the agony of decay, feeding upon it.

Guilliman felt as if he could smell that stench spanning ten thousand years—the order, the codices, and the ideals he had built with his own hands, fermenting and warping in the venom of time, finally brewing into a poisonous wine.

Guilliman slowly straightened his mountain-like frame.

He thought of his father. He thought of the father who had burned himself for ten thousand years on the Golden Throne, using the flames of his soul to barely maintain this corpse so that it would not completely collapse.

The lighthouse was guarding the ships, but at the same time, it was also attracting all the sea monsters.

How absurd, and yet how true.

An indescribable fatigue, mixed with a fury like an avalanche and a tsunami, surged within him.

The Empire he had bled for, the Empire his brothers had sacrificed for, the Empire his father had burned for... had become this.

He looked at his own hands: the "hand of dominion" covered in golden armor, and the other, his own hand of flesh and blood, filled with power.

He could rebuild a star system, write a codex, or command a war spanning the galaxy.

But could he save a corpse that had been rotting for ten thousand years?

He did not know.

But he had to do it.

"I will go to Terra."

He said to Zhang Yuan, and also to himself.

This corpse... could not continue to rot like this.

He needed help. But as he looked around, all he saw were the maggots on the corpse.

They might be loyal, they might be brave, but their thoughts and their souls had long been assimilated by this rotting corpse.

They could not see the truth, or rather, they had long grown accustomed to the stench.

And Zhang Yuan...

That young man was an anomaly, a variable.

His fleet, his soldiers, his technology... all of it was like a massive mystery.

Guilliman could feel that the excuse of "a lost branch of Golden Age technology" could not withstand scrutiny.

But that did not matter.

What mattered was that Zhang Yuan could see.

His eyes were not blinded, his thoughts were not imprisoned. He stood outside the corpse and could clearly point out the core of the rot.

Even the Emperor... his father, had noticed this mortal.

"He wants to see you."

The weight of this sentence was immense.

That was enough.

An advisor who could see the big picture, who did not belong to the decaying system, and who had been "marked" by the Emperor himself.

Regardless of where Zhang Yuan came from, and regardless of what secrets he was hiding, before pulling the Empire out of the abyss, he was the most valuable... ally.

Guilliman stood in the darkness for a long time.

Then, he restarted the command system.

But this time, what appeared before him was not complex administrative reports, but a concise and efficient tactical map of the Macragge system.

The red dots representing the remnants of the Black Legion were still scattered across several large industrial zones on the planet and in the outer orbit, like a stubborn virus.

"The crusade to Terra" was a goal so grand that it would make even a demigod feel the weight.

But even the longest crusade needed a first step.

And the first step was to clean up his own courtyard.

Guilliman pressed the communication button, his cold and clear voice instantly transmitting into the Ultramarines' command network.

"Captain Agman, all Commanders of the battle companies, report to the 'Hall of Truth' strategy room in three minutes for a supreme military council."

His voice held no ripples, but every Ultramarine who heard the order could feel the thunderous storm hidden beneath that calm.

Three minutes later.

When the last Ultramarine captain walked into the strategy room, Guilliman was already standing before the massive holographic map.

He was not wearing his helmet, his sculptural face appearing incredibly cold and hard in the light of the map.

"Father." Calgar and the various captains knelt on one knee.

"Rise."

Guilliman's voice carried no warmth. He did not waste a single second on etiquette.

He reached out and pointed to several flashing red areas on the map.

"The remnants of the Black Legion, like rats hiding in the sewers, are still polluting my home. Their remaining fleet is still clinging to life in orbit."

His gaze swept across every Space Marine present.

"Agman, First Company, Third Company, you are responsible for clearing the three industrial ruins on the surface. I give you six hours."

"As you command, Father!"

"Titus, you and your Death Guard squad, coordinate with Calgar's Honor Guard, and bring me the head of that Chaos Lord hiding in the Arctic Smelter. Four hours."

"For Macragge!"

Guilliman's orders were clear, short, and lethal.

Finally, his gaze fell on the outer orbit of the star map. Those few defiant Black Legion cruisers were hiding in an asteroid belt.

"As for the orbit..."

Guilliman paused for a moment; he connected to another encrypted communication channel.

"Governor Zhang Yuan."

On the other end of the communication, Zhang Yuan, who had just been returned to his room by Calgar and was preparing to lie down, sat up with a jolt.

"...Present, Lord Guilliman."

"What is the status of your fleet?"

"...Ready to engage in combat at any time." Zhang Yuan replied listlessly, while wailing in his heart: 'It's starting already? What happened to the Chief Advisor role? This treatment is worse than an intern! No buffer period, just straight into round-the-clock labor right off the bat!!'

"Very well." Guilliman's voice came through the communicator, carrying an indisputable command.

"Your term as Chief Advisor begins now. First task: Coordinate with the Ultramarines fleet and clean up that trash in orbit."

The communication was cut off cleanly, leaving only a busy signal.

Zhang Yuan held the communicator blankly, and after a long while, he spat out: "...Not even a 'thank you'; this boss is too hard to serve."

Roboute Guilliman turned around to face his most elite warriors, his deep blue eyes burning with ten thousand years of fury and determination.

"The Indomitus Crusade begins with the cleansing of Macragge."

"Now, execute your orders!"