Time passed by, and an unknown number of standard Earth days had flown by since the decisive battle that determined the fate of the Triangulum Galaxy and even the entire 22nd Universe...
The planet Grum IV, once plagued by the Qu civilization and covered with twisted creations and agonizing colonies, had now taken on a completely new look.
The Empire's Engineering Division, with its miraculous modification technology, forcefully pulled this devastated planet back from the abyss of despair.
The polluted atmosphere was purified, restoring its azure blue;
The dried-up riverbeds were fed with clear springs, meandering and flowing;
The land once covered by the 'meat blanket' now grew vegetation bred from the Empire's gene bank that was adapted to the local environment.
On the surface of the planet sat several towns and villages with sound infrastructure.
These buildings shared a unified style, constructed with sturdy alloys and prefabricated modules, featuring rigid lines and orderly layouts, full of the Empire's unique pragmatic aesthetics.
The streets were broad, and energy networks, water supply systems, and communication base stations were all fully equipped. There were even large domed parks simulating natural sunlight, as well as fully functional medical and educational facilities, among others.
Theoretically, these towns were sufficient to comfortably accommodate millions of residents.
However, at this moment, these towns were plunged into an eerie silence.
The streets were completely empty, there were no lights behind the windows, and the playful sounds of children could not be heard in the squares.
Only the heavy footsteps of patrols and the low hum of servo systems occasionally broke this dead silence.
Those responsible for managing, patrolling, and maintaining 'order' here were clone soldiers with precise and uniform movements, as well as T-series Terminators that looked like moving steel and exuded a cold aura of death.
They shuttled silently through the empty streets and alleys, as if they were the caretakers of this massive, meticulously crafted, yet uninhabited 'model'.
At the edge of a newly emerged building complex, near the newly planted forest, a massive temporary camp had been established.
In the center of the camp stood a silver-white square building with a simple exterior but covering an extremely large area. Its internal structure was entirely different from common military barracks or warehouses.
Stepping inside, what caught the eye was an incredibly spectacular yet somewhat eerie scene.
Within the vast space, tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands, of precise life support pods were arranged neatly.
These housing pods looked like coffins forged from metal, with dark blue indicator lights flowing on their surfaces. The interiors were filled with a transparent, gel-like liquid rich in nutrients and stabilizers.
And quietly sleeping within every single housing pod was a 'resident'.
There were men and women, old and young, with various appearances and different features. But without exception, their bodies were in a perfect state of health, with full muscles and glossy skin, as if they had merely fallen into a deep sleep.
However, the rise and fall of their chests relied entirely on the mechanical rhythm of the support pods. Their eyes were tightly shut, completely unresponsive to all external stimuli.
They were 'shells' without consciousness or souls; biologically defined, they were no different from people in a vegetative state.
A large number of technicians wearing white protective suits shuttled through the aisles between the housing pods like engineers tending to precision instruments.
The datapads in their hands were connected to hovering hard-light holographic screens. The screens rapidly scrolled with complex vital sign data, neural activity maps, and genetic stability reports.
They were conducting the final and most crucial checks to ensure every 'vessel' was in the optimal state of readiness to perfectly welcome their returning 'masters'.
In the center of this 'forest' composed of silent shells, a woman with a distinct temperament was attentively reviewing the comprehensive data compiled on the main control screen.
She wore a well-tailored senior executive uniform of the Empire's Bio-Division, and the insignia on her epaulets displayed her exalted status.
Time seemed not to have left too many traces on her dignified and wise face; only her deep eyes held wisdom surpassing ordinary people and a steadiness born from experiencing the vicissitudes of life.
She was precisely the supreme head of the Empire's Bio-Division, an existence possessing supreme authority in the fields of genetic science and life engineering—Alexia Ashford.
She also held another, even more revered identity: the mother of the Primarchs, and the direct extension of the Emperor's scientific will.
"Sector Three, neural bundle connection port calibration complete, zero margin of error."
"Sector Seven, life support fluid activity index stable, nutrient concentration meets standard."
"Core gene-lock sequence confirmed with no mutations, all clone shells have a 100% match rate with source samples."
Reports streamed into Alexia's ears one after another through the communication network.
She nodded slightly, her gaze sweeping across this silent 'ocean' before her, a trace of imperceptible complex emotion flashing in her eyes.
These shells were cultivated in the Empire's most advanced cloning facilities, utilizing the most original human genetic information retained by those 'colonial humans' modified by the Qu.
'They' were the carriers of hope, the bridge to salvation, but the other end of the bridge still required an irreplaceable power for deliverance.
Right at this moment, a low and powerful engine roar approached from afar, piercing the building's soundproof barrier and breaking the internal silence.
Alexia seemed to sense something. She adjusted her appearance, gave a soft command to the adjutant beside her to "continue monitoring," and then turned around, walking with steady steps toward the building's main exit.
When she walked out of the building and arrived at the landing pad in the center of the camp, a Thunderhawk gunship—painted in the Emperor's exclusive black-and-gold color scheme, far larger than standard models, and with sharper, more majestic lines—was slowly landing on the designated platform.
The plasma streams spewing from its engines slightly distorted the surrounding air, even in deceleration mode.
Driven by hydraulic devices, the cabin door unfolded outward with heavy momentum.
The first to step out of the cabin were ten Custodes clad in dazzling golden armor and wielding Guardian spears.
They quickly occupied the key positions around the landing pad, their cold gazes scanning everything around them to ensure absolute safety.
Following that, the figure appeared...
Emperor Samuel Young.
He did not sit upon the 'distant' Golden Throne, but personally set foot on this land that carried countless sufferings and hopes.
He wore that iconic black-and-gold power armor, with a heavy crimson cape draping from his pauldrons, swaying gently in the breeze kicked up by the engines.
He did not wear a helmet, and his face was clearly visible. Those eyes, usually as deep as the abyss and carrying the sea of stars, were currently gazing calmly at Alexia coming forward, and the magnificent building behind her housing hundreds of thousands of soulless shells.
Without needing any command, all the staff, technicians, and even the guards patrolling in the distance on the landing pad knelt on one knee with incomparable piety the instant they saw the Emperor arrive in person.
This was awe and loyalty originating from the depths of their souls.
Alexia also bowed slightly, performing a solemn gesture of respect: "Your Majesty."
Samuel Young's gaze swept over the kneeling crowd. He gently raised his hand, and a peaceful psionic wave containing supreme authority brushed across the entire area: "Rise."
His voice was not loud, but it clearly imprinted into the minds of every individual.
Everyone rose as commanded, but still maintained a respectful posture.
Samuel Young stepped forward and came to Alexia. His gaze bypassed her and cast upon that silver-white building, as if able to penetrate the walls and see the thousands of shells sleeping within.
"Alexia." The Emperor's voice carried a trace of imperceptible concern. "What is the situation?"
Alexia raised her head, met Samuel Young's gaze, and said: "Reporting to Your Majesty, everything is ready. Within this facility, 107,321 clone shells have passed the final inspections for physiological state, neural compatibility, and genetic stability. All have reached, or even exceeded, the theoretical optimal values.
They are the most perfect 'vessels' that the Empire's biological technology can currently create."
She paused, her tone becoming even more solemn: "The systems maintaining the vital signs of these shells are operating perfectly, and the soul connection channels with the 'Heavenly Domain' have also been constructed, with stable parameters.
Now..."
She stepped slightly to the side, making way and performing a 'please' gesture, her gaze carrying absolute trust and expectation.
"It only awaits Your Majesty to complete the final, and most crucial, step."
"Good."
Samuel Young's answer was concise and powerful, as if he had already seen through everything and was only waiting for this moment to arrive.
He said no more and merely slowly closed his eyes.
The next moment, an indescribable, warm, and vast coercion silently spread out with him at the center.
There was no violent venting of energy, but a deeper fluctuation that touched the essence of existence.
Immediately after, pure and dazzling golden light burst forth from his stalwart body.
This light carried a purity and majesty that cleansed the soul. Like a living tide, it gently yet irresistibly washed over the entire camp, enveloping the silver-white building, the solemnly standing Custodes, the respectful technicians, and even every speck of dust in the air under this sacred radiance.
The light penetrated the alloy walls of the building, seeped into every housing pod, and bathed the thousands of sleeping shells within.
From Alexia's perspective, she only felt her vision filled with warm gold, as if the entire universe had grown quiet at this moment, leaving only the essential radiance originating from the Emperor flowing silently.
This sensation lasted for an extremely brief time, like an instant of persistence of vision, yet also as if having undergone some eternal baptism.
When her vision returned to normal, and she subconsciously looked at the hovering hard-light holographic screen beside her, her pupils couldn't help but contract slightly.
On the screen, the brainwave graphs that were originally as flat as straight lines began to fluctuate violently, yet full of vitality, like a lake surface into which a stone had been thrown!
The index representing the intensity of neural signals of conscious activity soared, instantly jumping from a near-zero baseline to the active range, displaying the complex and orderly rhythms unique to healthy individuals.
"Neural synapse connections fully activated!"
"Consciousness signal connection confirmed! Repeat, consciousness signal connection confirmed!"
The suppressed, excited voices of the technicians came pouring in through the communication channels. Data streams refreshed on the screens like waterfalls, every metric pointing to an incredible miracle—
Those 'shells' that had been sleeping for an unknown period were being infused with 'souls'.
"Quick! Return to your posts immediately! Conduct comprehensive vital sign monitoring and adaptability assessments!"
Forcefully suppressing the shock and excitement in her heart, Alexia immediately issued orders while taking the lead to turn around and walk quickly into the building.
Her heartbeat accelerated involuntarily. She knew that what she was about to witness was a 'resurrection' in the truest sense, surpassing mortal comprehension.
When she stepped back into that 'forest' of housing pods, the scene before her made her, as well as all the technicians following closely behind, involuntarily hold their breath.
Within those tens of thousands of housing pods, the 'shells' that were originally motionless like exquisite dolls were now undergoing earth-shaking changes.
In some housing pods, the eyelids of the sleepers began to tremble slightly, like butterflies breaking out of their cocoons struggling to open their wings.
Immediately after, pairs of eyes tentatively opened, bearing the confusion and purity of newborn infants.
They stared blankly at the flowing data lights above the pod covers, as if trying hard to comprehend everything before them.
Confusion...
This was their first emotion after their consciousness returned to the physical body.
Their memories still lingered in that peaceful Heavenly Domain, or even further back, in the eternal pain and darkness bound within the meat blanket.
The cold metal, flowing liquid, and unfamiliar environment before their eyes could not overlap with any scenes in their memories.
But soon, confusion was replaced by a stronger emotion—disbelief.
They felt it!
They felt the real tactile sensation of their fingertips touching the life support fluid, the rise and fall of their chest breathing autonomously, and the rhythm of their heart beating powerfully within their chest!
They tried moving their fingers and bending their knees. A long-lost sense of independent and flexible control belonging to their 'limbs' spread throughout their 'new' nervous system like electric currents.
This was not a dream!
Not the tranquility of the Heavenly Domain, nor the eternal imprisonment of pain and despair in the meat blanket...
This was a real, vivid life with infinite possibilities!
"I... I can move?"
"Is this... a hand? Is this my foot?"
Faint, trembling murmurs of disbelief began to sound muffledly inside some housing pods. Although weakened by the soundproofing layer, they still merged into a wave of sound full of vitality and hope.
More people began attempting more complex movements, touching their cheeks, confirming the existence of their facial features, and feeling the sense of power brought by healthy muscles.
Tears uncontrollably welled up in some people's eyes, mixing with the life support fluid.
Those were tears of joy, tears of liberation, and the ecstasy of gaining a new life.
These 'newborn' people were precisely those colonial humans once modified by the Qu civilization, whose souls were saved by Samuel Young and placed in the Heavenly Domain.
They retained complete memories and emotions belonging to 'humans'. After experiencing eternal torment and brief tranquility, they ultimately chose the third path...
That is, bringing all their memories, whether painful or precious, to return to the physical universe and embrace their lost-and-found freedom and future as true humans.
The technicians quickly and orderly carried out their work, opening the housing pods, assisting these 'newborns' out of the life support fluid, conducting preliminary physical examinations, and having them change into comfortable clothing.
Although their bodies were weak, these people who had regained their physical forms were incredibly cooperative. Their eyes were full of gratitude toward the technicians, but more than that, it was an indelible adoration and awe originating from the depths of their souls.
When they were supported, or relied on their own strength, to slowly walk out of that silver-white building, truly step onto the solid ground of Grum IV again, feel the real sunlight shining on their skin, and breathe the fresh air, everyone's gaze unanimously cast toward the golden figure standing like a mountain on the landing pad—
Emperor Samuel Young.
No one's guidance was needed, nor any verbal call to action.
An instinct originating from soul resonance drove them.
Having just gained a new life, they broke free from their supports, disregarding their physical weakness, and knelt deeply toward that direction in the most pious posture.
There were no uniform slogans, only heartfelt whispers and calls carrying chokes and endless gratitude, merging into a solemn wave of sound: "Your Majesty..."
"Thank you... Thank you for your salvation..."
What they worshipped was not only the power that bestowed upon them these healthy bodies, but also the 'miracle' that saved them from the eternal abyss of pain and granted them the choice of a second life.
What Samuel Young displayed at this moment was not solely the supreme ruler of the Empire, but a 'god-like' existence who crossed life and death and governed the destinations of souls.
His 'divinity' received its most genuine and unquestionable manifestation amidst the kneeling and tears of these over a hundred thousand people who had gained a new life...
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