Chapter 2: The First Step to Change Fate
The Emperor betrayed the oath he swore in blood and promised with his soul.
The long-plotted reckoning of the Chaos Gods descended, a kaleidoscopic storm engulfing the laboratory.
Each gestation pod was torn into the Empyrean by the vortex, hurtling towards its destined planet.
Ning Lu's eyes snapped open, a thought firm in his mind.
[The first step to change my fate depends on whether my golden finger is strong enough.]
The Warp, also known as the Sea of Souls, the Empyrean, the Immaterium, the Realm of Chaos—different people call it by names reflecting their cultural habits.
The Sea of Souls is composed of pure energy. It's like a mirror to the material universe, formed by the emotions and souls of all sentient beings within the physical realm.
The moment Ning Lu opened his eyes, a powerful conviction erupted within him.
[My fate is mine to control. Neither the Four Little Ones nor that old geezer can decide my destiny.
I'm going to the Obscurus Sector, the Voss-Toria system, the main world of Voss-Toria!]
Black mist billowed, enveloping him. His intense conviction propelled the black mist into a rapid spin. The kaleidoscopic vortex was affected, gradually deviating from its intended trajectory.
"The Weaver of Destinies," Tzeentch, was the first to notice the change in the threads of fate. The Eleventh Primarch had broken free from the vortex, not falling to his destined world.
"Change... all according to the plan..."
The other three gods soon noticed the anomaly of that gestation pod as well. They watched the scene with amusement until the black mist dissipated.
Ning Lu waited anxiously. Although he had been chosen by the "Country of Disorder," he knew that the Primordial Matter's authority gradually increased with the advancement of his sequence.
In the material world, the "Country of Disorder" wouldn't offer him much help.
But here, in the Warp, emotions and beliefs were the most potent forces.
Ning Lu used his conviction as power, leveraging the "Country of Disorder."
Even if the Primordial Matter's rank was lower than the Four Gods, it was close to the same level.
Their combined power might be able to change the planet of descent—this was the first step he took to alter his fate!
While the gestation pods of the other Primarchs were still drifting in the Sea of Souls, the Eleventh Primarch's pod shot out of the Empyrean like an arrow.
The gestation pod plummeted rapidly. Through the intense friction with the industrial fumes, igniting glaring smoke, Ning Lu saw the spire city piercing the toxic atmosphere, which brought him a slight sense of relief.
Immediately after, the gestation pod crashed into a viscous, muddy waterway.
The silver-gray metal shell shook violently, and the glass partitions shattered.
Ning Lu stood steadily inside the pod. He suddenly extended his right hand, accurately grabbing a piece of silver-gray shrapnel about the length of an average adult hand and two fingers wide.
The rapidly spinning and sliding mud splashes had no impact on his senses. He noticed that there were no flora or fauna in the river or along its banks, and he smelled the pervasive toxic, acidic odor.
Ning Lu's head spun for a moment, but he quickly recovered.
The gestation pod's rotation slowed down. Ning Lu's brain rapidly completed its calculations, and just before it hit the bank and bounced in another direction, he leaped out.
His knees bent slightly, and he steadied himself.
Ning Lu stood up, looked towards the spire city through the swirling industrial dust, and then began walking in that direction.
In the shantytowns on the outskirts of the hive city, people who had lived unprotected for a long time had more or less developed physical mutations.
Many underhive residents also came to the shantytowns to survive. The foul-smelling sewage ensured a relatively fertile agricultural environment and a considerable harvest of fungi.
A man with a stone-like tumor growing on his neck was the first to notice the outsider.
He was an outsider who shouldn't have been in the shantytown. His skin was a healthy, natural yellow, with a sheen, like a statue sculpted by an artist.
His long black hair fluttered in the wind, and his eyes were as black as ink, like deep pools. He had a high nose bridge.
Although he looked like a boy of only four or five years old, the gene-sire's facial features were sharp and distinct. His handsome face carried an innate sense of majesty that made people不敢直视 him.
The mutant lowered his head with inferiority and timidity, then a hint of greed flashed in his eyes.
Such a boy could fetch a lot of money. Many important figures in the upper hive enjoyed toying with such tender-skinned children.
Once this thought arose, it could not be suppressed.
He immediately dropped the gathered fungi and lunged at the boy. Several other mutants moved with the same idea.
The boy didn't turn to run. He sidestepped the incoming club, and the silver-gray shrapnel in his hand slashed through the mutant's thigh.
With a scream, all the mutants in the shantytown were drawn to the scene. They greedily pounced on the boy.
Ning Lu weaved through the crowd of mutants. No one's attack landed on the boy.
At first, the mutants thought it was because the boy was short, so they all crouched down. They were familiar with this posture from their daily activities of cultivating fungi, scavenging through garbage heaps, and ambushing wanderers. They often fought in this stance when抢夺 spoils.
Their attacks still missed. It was as if the boy could predict their every move. Side thrusts, iron bars thrown at the back of the head—all their intentions fell through.
The boy didn't turn his head, as if he had eyes in the back of his head.
An hour later, a group of people lay on the ground in the shantytown, each with their legs severed, unable to move.
Ning Lu's gaze searched among them, then he stripped off the cleanest and most complete piece of clothing, casually cut it to size, and put it on.
He walked up to the mutant with the tumor on his neck, kicked him, opened his mouth, and pointed at the iron bar on the ground.
The mutant looked at the monster in front of him in terror. After a few seconds, he realized that the other was asking what that thing was called. He quickly opened his mouth.
Ning Lu's superhuman brain, at an astonishing speed, quickly grasped the local Low Gothic language, which was a localized version of ancient Terran Slavonic.
Five hours later, he had learned the basic language from these people.
Ning Lu's gaze fixed on the remaining living mutants, and he spoke fluently in the local Low Gothic.
"Is this world Voss-Toria?"
All the mutants nodded simultaneously, afraid that being slow would result in the same fate as the corpses beside them.
He pointed to the hive city not far away. "Is that hive city Tetzvok?"
The mutants once again nodded quickly and simultaneously.
Ning Lu stepped forward, casually ending the mutants' suffering. These witnesses who had seen him arrive in the hive city from the ash wastes might cause him trouble if they lived.
He knew that after Voss-Toria pledged allegiance to Mars during the "Age of Strife," technology and knowledge poured in, rapidly developing it into a highly industrialized world.
The locally manufactured weapons were excellent, especially the lasguns, which were the most famous. In the future, the Voss-Torian Firstborn regiment's combat power would rank among the top ten in the Imperial Guard.
Voss-Toria was jointly ruled by nobles and the Adeptus Mechanicus. The weapons in the hands of the "oilers" could still cause trouble for his growing self.
Ning Lu found a relatively clean black backpack, although even by the standards of the underhive, it was still filthy.
He filled the backpack with fungi and also put in a tattered piece of clothing for replacement.
Then he walked towards the hive city. He had checked once before, and all the "Lawyer" potion ingredients on the Blasphemy Slate were glowing, indicating that all the materials could be found in the hive city.
(End of this chapter)