73: Chapter 73: Ultra Warriors Acknowledge Mortals, Lin Mo Receives Official Appointment

"It's exploded!"

Yang Shitou's roar smashed down from the top of the watchtower, shattering into ice shards in the biting cold air of early morning.

He gripped the binoculars tightly with one hand while slapping the rusted iron railing with the other, sending sparks flying.

"The north side! It exploded over by the Gravel Slope!"

When Lin Mo rushed out of the Intelligence Center, the sole of his shoe caught hard on the threshold.

He stumbled to steady himself and looked up abruptly.

Yang Shitou had half his body leaning out over the railing; in the direction his finger pointed, a gray-black pillar of smoke was piercing straight into the sky—it wasn't cooking smoke, for cooking smoke would dissipate; this pillar of smoke was like a black iron stake driven forcibly into the clouds.

"Where is Locke?"

"He's already taken men over there!" Wang Defu came sprinting from the direction of the militia barracks, the butt of his lasgun hitting his thigh with every step. "Two squads! Duran and Qian Wu are both there!"

"What exploded?"

"Not sure! But Yang Shitou said he heard a roar before the explosion—it wasn't human!"

Lin Mo's pupils contracted sharply.

The second explosion followed closely, much closer than the first.

An orange-red fireball suddenly erupted in the dwarf woods behind the Gravel Slope, dyeing half the mountainside a scorching rust color.

Gunfire erupted immediately—the sharp hiss of lasguns intertwined with a certain heavy, turbid low roar, like two rusted saw blades gnawing at each other.

"It's Chaos."

When Lin Mo spat out these two words, his left palm had already begun to burn.

The mirror of the emperor was responding—not with a sharp alarm, but with a deeper palpitation, like the heart skipping a heavy beat beneath the ribs.

"Yang Shitou!" he roared, looking up. "How many do you see?"

"Three... no, four!" Yang Shitou's voice was trembling, but the binoculars never left his eyes. "Two on the Gravel Slope, at least two in the dwarf woods! Not soldiers! They're much taller than humans—"

"They're Chaos Spawn."

Wang Defu took over.

The veteran's finger was already on the safety of his lasgun, his knuckles white from the force, but his voice was as steady as a stake driven into the ground—a man who had fought his whole life naturally becomes steady when the time calls for it.

"Lord Lin Mo," he turned around, "Locke didn't take enough men."

"I know."

"I'm going."

"The stitches in your leg wound haven't been removed yet."

"Whether the stitches are removed or not, it doesn't affect pulling the trigger."

After finishing his sentence, Wang Defu turned and ran north.

When he started running, his left leg clearly limped, but he didn't even pause his stride, disappearing straight into the corner of the alley.

Lin Mo watched his back without stopping him.

Then he turned and walked toward the Medical Station.

It wasn't to call Alice to the front line—she wasn't a combatant.

It was because the temperature in his palm was still rising; that wasn't the heat of adrenaline surging before a battle, but the mirror of the emperor issuing a warning unlike any before—something was different.

The door to the Medical Station was ajar.

Alice stood at the entrance of the dispensary, the silver ring on the ring finger of her right hand shining blindingly in the faint morning light.

"You felt it," Lin Mo said.

It wasn't a question.

"Yeah." Alice looked down at the ring.

The golden veins on the ring surface were seeping out from inside the metal at a speed visible to the naked eye, flowing slowly along the ring, like someone had drawn an endless circle of electricity on the silver surface with the finest gold pen.

"Starting from the first explosion, every time it explodes, it lights up."

"The frequency matches perfectly?"

"Not a hair off."

Alice took off the ring and placed it in her palm.

The brightness of the golden veins was still climbing.

"This is no coincidence."

"What is it?"

"An activation signal."

Her voice was very light, but every word carried an unquestionable weight. "Laboratory No. 00 of the Underground Shelter emitted an energy pulse at the exact same moment the explosion occurred."

"My ring is the receiver."

Lin Mo was silent for two seconds.

"It's been activated."

"By what?"

"Chaos."

Alice looked up.

There was no fear in those ice-blue eyes, only a nearly cruel calmness—like the final instant before a scalpel cuts into skin.

"When Chaos approaches this planet, its energy field disturbs the Warp."

"That door has been dormant for eleven thousand years; in those eleven thousand years, no Chaos energy has ever approached the orbit of Hope Star."

"Now it has come, and the door has awakened."

"Your ring is the key?"

"I am the key."

When she said this, her tone was as calm as if she were reporting a body temperature, but the knuckles of the hand holding the ring were already white with tension.

"You don't know what will happen after opening it."

"I don't know."

Alice put the ring back on her ring finger.

The moment the golden veins touched her skin, they suddenly burst into a blinding light, then stabilized, turning into a soft but continuous halo.

"But I know one thing: if I don't open it now, Chaos will open it for us."

"And I absolutely do not believe that after Chaos opens the door, whatever comes out will stand on the side of humanity."

Lin Mo looked at her.

The third explosion came from the north, making the iron roof of the Medical Station hum, lasting for a full two seconds.

"Then let's go."

"Now?"

"Now."

Lin Mo's voice had no hesitation. "Locke and Wang Defu are buying us time; every second is bought with their lives, we can't afford to waste it."

Alice stared at him for the duration of a breath.

Then she turned, picked up the tube of pale golden emperors gene repair fluid from the dispensary counter, and carefully placed it into the innermost pocket of her medical kit.

The action of her zipping it up was as forceful as if she were closing a door.

"Let's go."

When they passed through the town, the gunfire from the north was already as dense as raindrops.

On the watchtower, Yang Shitou roared every movement thunderously, his hoarse voice sweeping over the town again and again.

In the militia barracks, the last batch of reserves was gathering urgently; the chaotic sounds of footsteps and weapons clashing were mixed together.

Someone was shouting about ammunition counts, someone was cursing that the Chaos Spawn's skin was thicker than armor, someone was squatting in the corner changing batteries, their hands shaking so much they couldn't align the latch for a long time; after finishing, they cursed fiercely and grabbed their guns to run north.

When Lin Mo and Alice passed by the entrance of the Arsenal, Old Tom was standing on the steps.

His work clothes were covered in iron filings and grease, and he clutched a bayonet that had just been quenched, the blade still carrying a dark red residual heat—it had just been taken out of the quenching pool, and the water surface was still steaming.

"How is it in the north?"

"Four Chaos Spawn, two on the Gravel Slope, two in the dwarf woods." Lin Mo didn't stop walking. "Locke is holding them off."

"Can he hold?"

"He said he would hold for three days, so he will definitely hold for three days."

As Lin Mo passed him, he tilted his head. "Your plasma engine—"

"It's been running stably for the third day and night." Old Tom slammed the bayonet into the water trough at the door, with a hiss, white mist rose half a meter high. "What I can build now is more than just engines."

"What do you mean?"

"It means—" Old Tom fished the bayonet out of the trough, a layer of uniform cold blue light gleaming on the blade. "You go open the door, I'll hold this place."

When Alice passed the door, she turned her head and took a look.

Her gaze lingered on the blue-glowing bayonet for less than half a second, then she quickened her pace.

"His eyes," she whispered.

"Hm?"

"When he looked at the blade, it wasn't like a blacksmith looking at his own work."

She said, "It was like a soldier checking his own weapon."

Lin Mo didn't look back, but he kept these words in his heart.

The entrance to the Underground Shelter was hidden under the cliff on the north side of the mountain range.

To get there from the town, one had to pass through a patch of waist-deep dwarf shrubs and a dry riverbed.

Usually, this road was so quiet that only the sound of the wind and the occasional low rumble from deep within the mineral veins remained.

Today was different; the sound of explosions on the Gravel Slope, refracted repeatedly by the mountain walls, turned into a continuous muffled thud, like a giant beast that had been sleeping for ten thousand years deep underground was slowly turning over.

The metal wall automatically lit up with a warm yellow light as they approached.

This time was different from any other time—the runes on the wall had already begun to glow before they even recognized Alice.

It wasn't being activated, but awakened.

Those originally abstract geometric veins, before her palm touched the wall, began to reorganize and flow on their own, like an ancient book automatically turning to the most important page before the true reader arrived.

Alice stood still in front of the wall.

She didn't take out any key, just raised her left hand and gently placed her palm on the cold metal wall.

"Do you hear it?" she asked.

"Hear what?"

"The sound from inside the door."

Lin Mo stood two steps behind her, holding his breath.

The echo of the explosions reverberated between the mountain walls, the wind rustled through the shrubs, and there was his own heartbeat.

Then, he heard it.

It wasn't heard with his ears; it was the mirror of the emperor opening a brand new frequency deep in his consciousness—a frequency he had never known before.

It wasn't human language, nor was it the sound of machines running, but a pulse with an extremely low frequency, an extremely slow rhythm, yet incredibly regular, like the steady and long breathing of a person in deep sleep.

"It's waiting for you," Lin Mo whispered.

"It has waited for eleven thousand three hundred and forty-two years." Alice's palm was pressed tightly against the wall, her fingertips slightly sinking into the metal veins.

"Now, you have come."

The wall slid open silently to both sides.

The speed was faster than any other time, without the harsh sound of mechanical friction or the heavy sound of metal clashing, only a low sigh that seemed to come from deep within the metal—like an ancient existence, having finally waited for the person it had been waiting for for ten thousand years, speaking the words it had practiced countless times over the long years.

Behind the door was a silver-gray circular archway.

The inscription "Human Civilization Survival Laboratory ・ No. 00" on the door was something Lin Mo had seen many times, but this time it was different.

A faint holographic light curtain appeared on the door, with a blurry figure standing quietly in the center of the light curtain.

Alice walked step by step toward the door.

The ring on her right hand and the invisible sensor on the door resonated strongly, and the golden veins on the ring surface suddenly lit up in a circle.

The holographic projection instantly became clear.

A female silhouette wearing an old-style Imperial military uniform, her features unclear, but the star emblem on her shoulder strap was clearly discernible.

Her voice was steady, clear, devoid of any emotion, yet carried an unquestionable solemnity:

"Identification code: 17-083-AL. Biological characteristics matched. Welcome to activate the Level 2 protocol of Laboratory No. 00."

The projection paused for a moment, then continued:

"This laboratory's core technology unit has been dormant for eleven thousand three hundred and forty-two years, waiting for an operator with specific genetic markers to activate it. Master key detected."

An option interface appeared on the light curtain, the text in ancient high gothic, but Lin Mo could clearly read every word through the mirror of the emperor:

"Please select initialization mode: A. Full Activation (requires Psyker link synergy confirmation) / B. Read-only Access / C. Security Lock."

Alice stared at the interface, the light of the holographic projection reflecting a faint layer of gold in her ice-blue pupils.

"Psyker link synergy confirmation," she repeated the term. "It wants me to—"

"Establish a Psyker link with another person," Lin Mo said.

"How do I establish it?"

Lin Mo looked down at the palm of his left hand.

The mark of the mirror of the emperor was glowing—not with a weak pulse, but with a steady and warm continuous light.

The golden veins spread from the mark on his palm to his fingertips, leaving a faint golden trail in the air.

A line of golden text slowly emerged in his consciousness:

"mirror of the emperor ・ Synchronization Detection"

"High-adaptation Psyker node detected"

"Node marker: 17-083-AL"

"Compatibility: 98.7%"

"Recommendation: Establish Psyker link"

"Link conditions: Both parties activate Psyker channel simultaneously"

"Risk warning: After the link is established, it will trigger Warp resonance, chaos attention level expected to rise by 8-10 points"

"98.7%," Lin Mo read out the number.

"What?"

"The Psyker compatibility between you and me." He turned his palm over, letting the golden mark face her. "The mirror of the emperor just measured it; it recommends we establish a link."

Alice looked at the golden mark and was silent for two seconds.

"What does that mean?"

"It means—" Lin Mo paused. A product manager's instinct made him want to find a precise metaphor, but he ultimately chose the most straightforward expression. "Ten thousand years ago, someone placed you and me into two different rivers. But before flowing into the sea, these two rivers were destined to merge."

"Your metaphor isn't romantic at all."

"I am a product manager; I'm not good at being romantic."

"Then what are you good at?"

"Turning probability into certainty." Lin Mo's voice was calm but carried an unquestionable power. "The mirror of the emperor has never actively suggested that I do anything; it is merely an analytical tool, not a decision-maker. But in the past three years and eleven months, it has never given a compatibility rating as high as 98.7%. Never. This number—"

"Exceeds the maximum value on the parameter table."

"Correct."

Alice looked at him for a long time. The explosions from the north passed through layers of rock walls, becoming dull drumbeats that struck the hearts of both. The holographic projection waited quietly, the option interface floating in mid-air with steady, unhurried light.

"Do you know what this means?" she asked.

"I know," Lin Mo said. "Once the link is successful, the entire Warp will feel it. The chaos attention level will instantly skyrocket. The Masked Commander has waited thirteen days for this exact signal."

"And you're still willing?"

"If you are asking me," Lin Mo interrupted her, not out of impatience, but because he had already thought it through clearly, "I am willing."

"Why?"

"Because Chaos has already bombed our northern defense line, because every bullet that Locke and Wang Defu fire outside was crafted by Old Tom after countless sleepless nights, because—" He extended his left hand. The golden mark on his palm was the only stable and warm light source in the dim underground passage. "I trust this system; it has never been wrong."

Alice slowly extended her right hand.

The silver ring, still glowing, reflected a thin line of golden light between them. Her fingers did not tremble, and there was no ripple of emotion on her face, but her movements held not a hint of hesitation.

"Aren't you afraid?" Lin Mo watched the hand reaching toward him.

"I am afraid." Her voice was very soft, but her hand did not withdraw. "But between being afraid and doing the right thing, I will always choose the latter."

"When did you decide?"

"Just now. When you said 'I am willing'."

The moment their fingers touched, golden light erupted, outlining a perfect ring in the air between them—a psychic channel with blood as the thread and soul as the bridge. On this forgotten frontier planet, after ten thousand years, it was finally reconnected.

Lin Mo felt it.

It wasn't temperature or touch; it was a deeper connection. Like a corner deep within his consciousness that had slept for half a lifetime, gently unlocked by a perfectly fitting key. He smelled the scent of disinfectant—that was the scent Alice carried with her year-round, which he was long familiar with, but this time, it was no longer the background; it was the channel itself.

Alice felt him at the same instant. It was not a psychic-scan type of prying; a psychic link was never about reading, but sharing.

"You are thinking of Earth." she opened her mouth, her voice as soft as a sigh.

Lin Mo did not deny it.

"The scent here is different," he said. "A rainy day on Earth doesn't smell like sulfur and rust; it's the smell of soil and ozone, the smell of rain falling on asphalt—completely different from here."

"You want to go back."

"I can't go back," he said. "But we can build a new one here."

The golden ring expanded between them, spreading from their fingertips to their wrists, their arms, and their shoulders. This halo was not a weapon or a shield; it was a circuit that had been severed for ten thousand years, two souls arranged by fate, finally touching their endpoints after waiting for three hundred generations.

The chaos attention level skyrocketed from 70 to 78.

Deep within the Warp, some existence older and more silent than the Four Chaos Gods, and that memory sealed away during the Great Crusade, cast its gaze for the first time toward this remote planet named Hope Star.

At this very moment, Lin Mo saw it.

It wasn't seen with his eyes; it was a brief consciousness sharing brought by the psychic link. He saw a memory that did not belong to him—a little girl with silver hair standing in front of a burning building. The towering flames dyed her hair orange-red; she did not cry, just stood there quietly, like a small white poplar planted at the edge of a fire.

A figure walked out of the sea of fire.

He wore golden armor, and the armor was stained with blood—not his blood. He bent down and gently picked up the little girl. The girl did not struggle; she just buried her face into the gap of his cold shoulder pauldrons—there, it was the only warmth in the entire fire.

The person who carried her away left no name.

He placed her at the entrance of the Imperial Psyker containment station, left behind a silver ring, and left behind a designation—Batch 17.

Then, he turned and walked back into the sea of fire.

He never came out again.

The psychic link lingered on this frame for a long time. It wasn't Lin Mo who chose to look; it was this memory, suppressed for over a decade deep within Alice's consciousness, that automatically surfaced the moment the link was established. She might have thought she had forgotten it, but she had never truly forgotten—she had simply buried it in a place she herself could not reach.

The golden halo slowly retracted, not disappearing completely, but shrinking into a faint golden point, floating in the air between them. It was not the end; it had entered standby mode.

Lin Mo looked down at his left palm; the mark was still glowing, stable, continuous, and warm.

"It's still there," he said.

"Mm." Alice lowered her head, looking at the silver ring on the ring finger of her right hand. The golden patterns on the band were slowly dimming but not extinguishing; instead, they pulsed at an extremely slow frequency, completely in sync with her heartbeat. "That thread—"

"Still there."

Alice was silent for a few seconds, then nodded gently.

No words were needed. The thread connecting their souls was still there; as long as it existed, no matter how far apart they were, they could find each other.

After waiting for a sufficiently long time, the holographic projection finally responded.

The "A. Full Activation" option on the interface lit up automatically, and the golden light screen began to reorganize under the resonance of their psychic link. The female silhouette in the projection turned toward Alice, her tone still steady but with a hint of almost human warmth:

"Psychic link verification passed. Synergistic will detected: both parties consenting. Laboratory No. 00 core protocols, unlocked."

The silver-gray metal door slid open to both sides, the sound it made completely different from the wall before. It wasn't a sigh, but a deeper, more ancient resonance—like some energy that had been sealed for ten thousand years, finally finding an exit for release.

Behind the door was endless darkness, ten thousand years of waiting, and all the answers left to them by the person who hadn't even left a name.

Lin Mo gripped Alice's hand tightly, and she gripped him back just as tightly.

"Go in."

"Together."

Two beams of light, in the darkness, took a step forward at the same time.

The gunfire from the north finally stopped.

On the scree slope, four carcasses of Chaos Spawn lay scattered. The largest one, with a shoulder height of nearly two and a half meters, lay under the blade of Locke's modified laser axe. A basin-sized hole had been gouged into its chest, the edges still emitting blue smoke from the high-temperature burning. Locke stood beside the corpse, his axe propped on the ground, every breath he took sounding like he was coughing up his lungs. On his left arm was a wound stretching from his shoulder to his elbow—not a knife wound, but a scratch from the Chaos Spawn's claws when he turned; the wound wasn't deep, but it was long, like land plowed by a plowshare.

"Lord Locke!"

Duran almost slipped when he ran over; the ground was a pool of dark red liquid mixed with gravel, indistinguishable between the blood of the Chaos Spawn or a human.

"Don't call me Lord." Locke used the axe handle to support his body. "How many died?"

"Two. Qian Wu broke three ribs, and Zhang Asu's left leg—"

"Can it be saved?"

"Lady Alice is not here—"

"I asked you if it can be saved!" Locke's voice suddenly rose, blood from his wound flowing down his arm, pooling into a small puddle of red in the gaps of his fingers.

Duran opened his mouth, but ultimately closed it. He was not a medic; he only knew that Zhang Asu's leg had been bitten by the Chaos Spawn, the bones below the knee broken into at least two pieces, and the edges of the wound had already turned black—that was not a common bacterial infection, but Chaos corruption.

"Carry him back." Locke pulled the axe from the ground and shouldered it. "Carry him to the entrance of the Medical Station and wait for Alice to return. She can heal him."

"What if she—"

"She will definitely return." Locke interrupted him, his voice low but incredibly firm. "If she doesn't return, Lin Mo won't return either. If Lin Mo doesn't return, we will go to Terra ourselves to find him."

Duran stood frozen for a full two seconds. Then he turned abruptly and ran toward the stretcher team.

Wang Defu leaned against a piece of scree; a large patch of dark red blood had already seeped through the bandage on his left leg—the stitches had split open again. He looked down, took half a bandage out of his pocket, tore a piece off with his teeth, and wrapped it tightly around his thigh. The action was so practiced it was heartbreaking; he couldn't even remember how many times he had done this in his life.

"Uncle Wang."

"It's nothing." Wang Defu looked up at the northern cliff. There were three gashes on his face from gravel; blood and sweat mixed together, leaving hideous marks on his dark skin. "Locke."

"Hmm?"

"You just said you were going to Terra to find Lord Lin Mo—"

"What about it?"

"Are you serious?"

Locke scraped the black blood of the Chaos Spawn off his axe against the gravel, the metal and stone rubbing together to create a harsh, shrill sound.

"Serious," he said. "Very serious."

Wang Defu glanced at him and didn't speak again, just tightened the knot of the bandage on his thigh another turn.

The sky was almost dark.

In the Intelligence Center, the dim yellow light of an oil lamp illuminated the curved map on the steel-paneled table. The position in the middle of the arc that Lin Mo had circled with a charcoal pencil was shrinking inward at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Marcus stared intently at the data on the screen, his fingers hovering above the keyboard, slow to descend.

"The arc has moved again."

"How much?"

"It's completely different from the time last month." Marcus looked up, two deep bluish-black circles under his eyes. "Last month it just retracted a little; this time it's not retracting—it's letting go of the entire perimeter, concentrating all power onto a single point."

"Which point?"

"The coordinates of the Underground Shelter." Marcus pushed the data screen to Lin Mo. "Look at this set of energy readings—from the moment the psychic link was established, the Chaos energy density within a fifty-kilometer radius of the Underground Shelter has risen by—" He paused, as if confirming the numbers repeatedly, "—fourteen times."

"Fourteen times." Lin Mo repeated.

"Yes."

Lin Mo looked down at his left palm; the golden mark of the mirror of the emperor was emitting a very faint light—not a rapid pulse like an alarm, but a continuous, slow, rhythmic brightening and dimming like breathing.

A line of golden text surfaced in his consciousness again:

"mirror of the emperor ・ Strategic Assessment"

"chaos attention level: 78 (Warp resonance warning line triggered)"

"Current Threat Level: Orange"

"Psychic Link Status: Stable"

"Ancient Relic Detection: Laboratory No. 00 core unit activated"

"Recommendation: Enter the laboratory immediately to acquire technological assets"

"Warning: Masked Commander has initiated orbital drop procedures"

"Estimated Arrival Time: 16-22 hours"

Lin Mo read this text twice.

"16 to 22 hours," he said softly, his voice echoing in the empty Intelligence Center, without any reply.

"What 16 to 22 hours?" Marcus asked.

"The Masked Commander's orbital drop." Lin Mo stood up and walked to the window. The sky outside was completely dark; there were no stars, no moon, and gray-purple clouds pressed down low overhead, like a dirty rag that had been wrung out. "He waited thirteen days, waiting for this door to open. Now that the door is open, he is coming too."

"What do we do now?"

"We can't wait any longer."

Lin Mo turned around. "Old Tom building the plasma engine is the first condition; Locke holding the defense line alone for three days is the second condition; Alice and I establishing a psychic link is the third condition. We have met all three conditions."

"Met what?"

"The trials set by the Ultramarines."

Marcus was stunned.

"The Ultramarines? Didn't they leave a long time ago? Three or four months ago, they took the engine parts and left—"

"It was their fleet that left," Lin Mo said, the golden mark of the mirror of the emperor glowing steadily in his palm like a miniature navigation light. "But they left a set of independent remote observation equipment on the orbital station. The alloy plate Old Tom found in the engine room—the serial number on it isn't just a casting number; it's the legion-level identification code of the Ultramarines. Someone has been using those identification codes to remotely monitor all energy fluctuations on this planet."

"How do you know it's a trial?"

"Because they could have come directly," Lin Mo's voice was calm. "The Ultramarines fleet stopped at the edge of the system; they scanned Hope Star. The energy signal of the Underground Shelter cannot be hidden on a psychic level. But they didn't land, didn't notify the border outposts, and didn't contact any local Imperial institutions."

"Why?"

"Because they wanted to see if the mortals on this planet could stand up on their own without the help of the Astartes."

Marcus sat in his chair, silent for a long time. The wind outside howled, making the tin roof buzz.

"And now, they have seen it."

"They have seen it," Lin Mo said. The golden light in his left palm glowed even warmer.

The door to the Intelligence Center was gently pushed open.

Alice stood at the doorway. The hem of her Psyker robe was stained with the silver-gray dust unique to the Underground Shelter, reflecting faintly in the lamplight. On the ring finger of her right hand, a faint golden halo pulsed slowly around the band.

"Laboratory No. 00, Level 2 protocol unlocked," she said. "The core database is now accessible."

"What's in the database?"

"First, this." She took a folded, yellowed note from her medical kit and placed it on the steel-paneled table in front of Lin Mo. Although it had survived ten thousand years, the note was exceptionally well-preserved. She gently unfolded it with her fingertips, revealing a few lines written in high gothic, the handwriting pressing deep into the paper:

"Trial passed. Identification code: 17-083-AL Collaborative Activator. Laboratory No. 00 Level 2 clearance granted: Lin Mo, Acting Archon of Hope Star. Handwriting verification: Ultramarines Chapter Master Caine Augustus, M31.009."

"Caine Augustus," Lin Mo read the name aloud.

"Ultramarines Chapter Master," Alice said. "Before you came to Hope Star, eleven thousand years before you transmigrated, he had already been here. He left this door, left the conditions for the trial, and left this—a key for those who would come after."

"How did he know someone would come?"

"He didn't know," Alice's voice became exceptionally soft in the lamplight. "He just believed. Believed that someone would come, believed that the person who came could pass the trial, and believed that mortals—without the bloodline of the Astartes—could also protect this planet."

Lin Mo looked down at the note.

A Chapter Master of one of the Empire's most powerful chapters, one of the Emperor's direct descendants, had left a short appointment letter, eleven thousand years ago, on this remote border planet for a product manager from 21st-century Earth.

"He left an appointment," Lin Mo said.

"Yes. Acting Archon. On this planet, you have the formal authorization of the Imperial Legion; no one can question your legitimacy."

"The condition for the appointment was those three trials?"

"Yes." Alice placed her hand gently beside the note; the faint golden halo on her fingers was still flickering. "Locke holding the defense line alone for three days proved that the people on this planet dare to fight; Old Tom building the plasma engine proved that the people on this planet can build; you and I establishing a psychic link—"

"Proved what?"

"Proved that—" She paused, and for the first time, there was a hint of warmth in her ice-blue eyes. "A product manager from Earth and a Psyker with no origin can stand together for the same goal."

Lin Mo looked up, out the window. The sky was completely dark. The embers on the gravel slope to the north were still burning, a few clusters of dark orange light flickering in the night. The corpse of the Chaos Spawn had been dragged to the isolation zone. Old Tom was working through the night in the Arsenal to prepare the ammunition needed for tomorrow; Yang Shitou was still in the watchtower—his younger brother had died in last month's battle, and he hadn't cried to anyone; Wang Defu's leg was still bleeding; Locke was standing at the entrance of the Medical Station, waiting for Alice to return to perform an amputation on Zhang Asi; Qian Wu had three broken ribs and was lying on his hospital bed without a sound.

Everyone was holding on.

And that Ultramarines Chapter Master from who knew how many light-years away, eleven thousand years ago, had placed the fate of this border planet into the hands of mortals like them with a single yellowed note.

"Caine Augustus," Lin Mo read the name again. "He left an appointment, but he didn't leave a way to contact him."

"He didn't need to," Alice said. "The Chapter Master's identification code is the highest authority of the Legion. As long as this note is activated on any official Imperial channel, the Ultramarines across the entire star sector will be notified."

"Including Guilliman?"

"Including Guilliman."

Silence. The flame of the oil lamp jumped; the wick burned through an impurity, making a soft sound.

"Then we have it now," Lin Mo said. "Not a self-proclaimed village head, but a real Archon endorsed by an Ultramarines Chapter Master."

"How do you intend to use this identity?"

"First, use it on that door." He carefully folded the note and put it into his inner chest pocket. That pocket was where he used to keep the mints he brought from Earth—the last batch had been finished in the first year. Now, it contained mints Alice had replicated from local herbs; the taste was much worse, but he always kept them with him. "What exactly is in the core database of Laboratory No. 00?"

Alice glanced at him; the golden reflection in her ice-blue pupils had not yet fully faded.

"Blueprints, formulas, a complete tech tree. Do you know that plasma engine Old Tom spent three nights struggling to start?"

"That's in the database—"

"Entry-level."

"Entry-level?"

"It's numbered PWR-001 in the database, entry-level, for teaching purposes." She took a deep breath. "There are four hundred and seventy-two technical entries in the database, ranging from energy to weapons, from materials science to gene repair—everything you could imagine."

Lin Mo was silent for a long time.

Then, he smiled.

Not a loud laugh, just the corners of his mouth slightly upturned in the lamplight—the expression a product manager would have when seeing a perfect iteration roadmap. He saw the scale, saw the possibilities, and understood the full intent of that predecessor from ten thousand years ago who had left all this behind.

"Four hundred and seventy-two entries," he said. "Enough for us to use for many years."

"Enough for an entire star sector," Alice corrected him.

"Right." Lin Mo's gaze turned to the pitch-black sky outside the window. "Enough for an entire star sector. But not now. For now, let's pick out the things in the database that can be built tomorrow. Old Tom needs new alloy formulas, Locke needs better weapons, and your Medical Station needs—"

"Gene repair technology." Alice took over, her voice suddenly becoming very soft, but carrying an indescribable weight. "The gene repair entries in the database are not for ordinary people."

"Then who are they for?"

"The Emperor."

The flame of the oil lamp jumped violently. This time, it wasn't because of impurities, but because of the night wind blowing in through the cracks in the door. The cold wind swirled between them, carrying the smell of sulfur and rust from outside.

"The Emperor." Lin Mo repeated the name, his voice also very soft. Not out of fear, but with the calmness of a product manager automatically switching to analysis mode when hearing about an immensely large project. "Is there technology in the database to repair the Emperor?"

"Yes. And not just one plan." Alice pressed her hand on the table, her fingertips trembling slightly, but her voice remained steady. "Three plans, divided into three stages. First stage: stabilize the genome; second stage: repair psychic damage; third stage—"

"What is the third stage?"

"The Emperor rises from the Golden Throne."

The Intelligence Center fell into a deathly silence.

It lasted until the flame of the oil lamp became steady again, until the last cluster of embers on the gravel slope to the north finally went out, and until the night wind gently carried the sound of Yang Shitou coughing in the distant watchtower through the window.

"That is more than just a door," Lin Mo finally said.

"It isn't," Alice said. "This is a plan that started being prepared eleven thousand years ago. Caine Augustus didn't come to Hope Star to look for something; he came to leave something. He hid the core components of the entire plan on this most remote and least easily discovered planet, then left three trials, waiting for someone who could pass them to take it, to inherit it."

"The person who left the ring, your ancestor—"

"Was one of the executors of the plan. The 17th batch of gene test subjects. They encoded the molecular structure of the emperors gene repair fluid into the genome of the test subjects, passing it down generation after generation, only to descendants who could activate this structure with psychic powers." Alice's voice was steady, but with every word she spoke, the ring on the ring finger of her right hand pulsed with golden light patterns. "I am the last one."

Lin Mo stood up and walked to Alice. He wasn't there to comfort her; comforting words were always the most useless thing for someone like Alice.

He just stood in front of her and gently pressed on her chest pocket—in that pocket was the nearly empty iron box, containing every mint she had saved over the past year or so.

"What happened in the past is not your fault," he said.

"I know."

"The things to come—"

"We'll carry it together."

The words he couldn't say, she finished for him.

The flame of the oil lamp flickered a third time in the silent night.

Early morning.

Locke stood in the training ground, holding the blade of his modified laser axe up to the sunlight to inspect it carefully. The black blood of the Chaos Spawn had congealed into a very thin film on the axe surface; it wasn't physical residue, but Chaos corruption. He wiped it for the third time with a rag dipped in industrial alcohol before that nauseating, fishy stench finally dissipated.

"Locke!"

Yang Shitou came sprinting down from the watchtower. He had been staying up there for almost two days straight; his eye sockets were sunken, his lips cracked, but in his voice, there was an uncontrollable excitement that Lin Mo had never heard before.

"There's a signal!"

"What signal?"

"Sent down from orbit!" Yang Shitou unfolded the communication record paper in his hand. The handwriting on the paper was crooked—he wasn't highly educated, but he had copied every letter with extreme care. "Imperial Legion-level identification code, Ultramarines Chapter! Sent to—"

He looked up at Lin Mo.

"—Acting Archon of Hope Star, Lin Mo!"

Lin Mo took the paper. There was only one line of text on it, pressing deep into the paper:

"Trial passed, appointment effective. Ultramarines Chapter Master Caine Augustus, representing the Ultramarines Chapter and the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar, formally grants Lin Mo full Archon authority over Hope Star. May the light of the Emperor guide you. —M31.015"

Locke leaned on the handle of his axe, staring at the paper for a very, very long time.

"This Caine—"

"Ultramarines Chapter Master," Marcus walked out of the Intelligence Center, holding a data pad. "Not a Captain, but a Chapter Master. The Ultramarines, the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar, the Emperor's thirteenth son, one of the strongest Legions in the entire Empire. This is an appointment sent personally by their Chapter Master."

"Why is he helping us?"

"It's not help." Lin Mo carefully folded the letter, tucked it into his inner chest pocket, and placed it together with the note Kane had left earlier. "It's recognition. He set three trials, we passed them, and he fulfilled his promise."

Yang Shitou rubbed the thick calluses on his hands, a look that was half-smile and half-daze appearing on his sun-darkened face.

"That means—we're not just a ragtag bunch anymore?" His voice wasn't loud, but the morning breeze carried every word clearly. "We have an official designation, a designation of the Imperial Legion!"

"Yes," Lin Mo said.

"We have an identity?"

"We have an identity."

"We have backing?"

"We have a Chapter Master for backing." Marcus answered for him, his voice half an octave higher than usual, unable to suppress his excitement. "Not just any company commander, but a Chapter Master. A Chapter Master's appointment, throughout the entire Empire, cannot be overturned by anyone except the Primarch himself."

Locke heaved his axe onto his shoulder, the movement pulling at his wound and making the corner of his mouth twitch, but when he spoke, his voice was rough, solid, and filled with strength:

"That's enough. Before, we carried it ourselves, and now we still carry it ourselves. It's just that—while we carry it, someone is watching."

"Not watching," Lin Mo corrected him.

"Then what is it?"

"It's standing together."

He pulled the letter out of his pocket, unfolded it, and looked at it again against the morning light. The Chapter Master's signature was at the very bottom, the strokes vigorous and powerful, every corner of every letter straight, without any superfluous curves.

This was not an invitation based on personal charm.

This was a recognition. A recognition of mortals, solemnly given only after three trials of blood and fire.

Lin Mo folded the letter and put it back in his pocket.

He turned around, looking at the walls of Blackstone Town, at the wisps of smoke rising from the Arsenal chimney, at the line of wounded soldiers at the entrance of the Medical Station, and at Yang Shitou, who had already climbed back up the watchtower to continue staring at the gravel slopes to the north.

Then, he spoke.

"Notify everyone. We're holding a meeting in the square tonight."

"What kind of meeting?"

"To announce the appointment of the Archon," Lin Mo said. "Tell everyone that their Archon was not self-appointed, but personally conferred by a Space Marine Chapter Master after witnessing their courage and resilience with his own eyes."

"Why hold it in the square?" Locke asked. "Can't we do it in the Town Hall?"

Lin Mo turned to look at him. The morning light shone on his profile, casting the fine lines at the corners of his eyes into faint shadows.

"Because this is not an appointment for me alone," he said. "It belongs to everyone. Locke, you held the defensive line alone for three days; that is the first cornerstone of this appointment. Old Tom built the plasma engine; that is the second. Every person on this planet who has taken a step forward under the pressure of Chaos is an examiner for this appointment."

"Including those who sacrificed themselves?"

"Including those who sacrificed themselves." Lin Mo's voice softened, yet it carried the weight of a thousand tons. "The time they bought for us with their lives cannot just be written in cold casualty reports; it must be engraved into every word of this appointment."

Locke didn't speak. He lowered his axe from his shoulder, propped it on the ground, and then gave a solemn nod to Lin Mo. It wasn't a nod from a subordinate to a superior, but a warrior's recognition of another warrior.

"I'll go notify them," he said.

"I'll go to the Arsenal," Yang Shitou poked his head out from the watchtower. "Old Tom pulled an all-nighter last night; I'll go wake him up. He's definitely going to yell."

"What will he yell?"

"He'll say: 'Archon my foot, come over here and help me tighten this screw first.'"

"Then help him tighten it, and we'll talk after that."

Yang Shitou grinned, revealing a mouthful of white teeth. Then he turned and ran toward the Arsenal, his running posture still as awkward as ever, his legs uneven, like an old machine that had lost a screw, but he was fast.

A note left by a Chapter Master, a product manager from Earth, and an acknowledgment earned with blood, iron, and light.

— Lin Mo · Archon Appointment Record

In the night, the door to Laboratory No. 00 of the Underground Shelter stood quietly open.

Inside lay eleven thousand years of secrets, the genetic protocol to repair the Emperor, the alloy formulas Old Tom dreamed of researching, and the entire path a Chapter Master had personally paved for his successors before departing.

Lin Mo stood before the door.

Alice stood by his side. The silver ring on her right ring finger glowed with an extremely faint golden pattern in the darkness.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"Ready for what?"

"To walk in," she said. "And take up everything inside."

Lin Mo looked down at the palm of his left hand. The golden mark of the mirror of the emperor was glowing, stable, constant, and warm, like a lamp silently lit in the darkness for ten thousand years.

"Let's go."

The two of them moved forward simultaneously, taking their first step.

The moment their footsteps echoed, the darkness behind the door was completely illuminated by holographic projections. It wasn't a single light; the entire wall had become a massive data interface. Four-dimensional structural diagrams, molecular formulas, and technical roadmaps unfolded layer by layer before them, like an encyclopedia compressed over eleven thousand years, finally spreading all its pages open to its final heir at this very moment.

In the deepest part of the projection, the last line of text left by the person in golden armor was slowly emerging:

"If you see this line of text, it proves that the three trials I set have been passed. No need to thank me. I am doing what the Emperor asked me to do, and you are doing the same. It was true ten thousand years ago, and it remains true ten thousand years later. — Kane Augustus, M31.009."

Lin Mo finished reading the text.

Then he looked up at the entire wall of technical schematics. In the product manager's eyes, the faint light of countless technical entries was reflected—every single entry had the potential to change the fate of a planet, a star system, or even all of humanity.

"Alice."

"I'm here."

"This database—"

"Is not just enough for us to use for a lifetime," she said. "It's enough for all of humanity to use for a lifetime."

"Then let's start."

"Where should we start?"

"With the most urgent one." Lin Mo raised his left hand, and the golden mark of the mirror of the emperor shone brighter than ever before in front of the database interface. "Repair the Emperor. Phase one—stabilize the genome."

The holographic interface began to scroll the moment his voice fell. The first technical protocol automatically emerged from thousands of data points, like an ancient catalog finally finding the searcher it had been waiting for for ten thousand years.

Meanwhile, in orbit above Hope Star, a stealth reconnaissance ship of the Ultramarines, which had never appeared on Imperial radar, was slowly changing direction.

On the bridge, a tall figure clad in blue Terminators power armor stood silently before the observation screen. The image on the screen was of Blackstone Town—the frontier town that had just announced its official Archon appointment. The walls were not yet finished, the Arsenal chimney was emitting smoke, and the charred remains of Chaos spawn still lingered on the gravel slopes to the north.

The tall figure watched for a long time, then spoke.

"Log it."

"Yes, Chapter Master." The Techmarine beside him activated the data entry system.

"M31.015, Hope Star. All three trials passed, mortal Archon Lin Mo has officially assumed office. Psionic link established, Laboratory No. 00 activated, all core technological assets have been transferred to the Archon."

He paused for a moment. On that face, eternally scarred by the Horus Heresy, a faint, almost imperceptible expression of approval appeared.

"Add a note: These mortals are much stronger than I imagined."

"Chapter Master." There was a hint of hesitation in the Techmarine's voice. "Lord Guilliman's previous instructions were that if the trials were not passed, we were to immediately withdraw all Legion resources from Hope Star, including Laboratory No. 00—"

"I know Guilliman's orders." Kane Augustus turned around, the servo-motors of his power armor emitting a series of low mechanical sounds. "But the trials were passed, all three of them. Therefore, Guilliman's order is automatically void. Execute Plan B."

"What is Plan B?"

"Continue observation, and do not interfere. Let these mortals walk their own path." Kane turned back to the observation screen. Blackstone Town appeared very small in the morning light of Hope Star, so small that from orbit, it was just a dusty little square. But there was light in that square—the blue-white plasma arcs in the Arsenal, the never-extinguished lights of the Medical Station's dispensary, and the dust kicked up by new recruits running laps on the training ground.

And deep underground, the newly activated Laboratory No. 00 was unfolding all the answers left behind over eleven thousand years to its new master, at a rate of millions of data entries per second.

"Continue observation." Kane's voice echoed in the empty bridge, carrying a heaviness and firmness that only someone who had lived through the Horus Heresy could possess. "I have a premonition that the mortals on this planet will change many things."

"Including the Emperor's—"

"Including the Emperor's." Kane interrupted him. His gaze lingered on the direction of Blackstone Town on the screen, resting on the watchtower closest to the walls. At the top of the tower was a small oil lamp; even magnified to maximum zoom from orbit, one could see it swaying in the wind, yet refusing to be extinguished.

"Keep tracking, and give me a progress report every month. As for the next contact, wait until they discover us watching themselves."

"Yes."

The engines of the stealth reconnaissance ship lit up silently, and a thin, blue-violet plasma trail traced a faint arc in orbit above Hope Star before vanishing into the endless deep space.

In Blackstone Town, no one knew that a Space Marine ship had just flown over their heads.

They only knew that this morning, Lin Mo held a meeting in the square. A letter was read at the meeting, written by a Chapter Master they had never heard of. The Chapter Master said in the letter: Your Archon was not appointed by me; it was earned by you yourselves with three days of defensive lines, with a plasma engine, and with the blood of everyone who died in this war.

In the square, someone wept. Not tears of sorrow, but the release of finally being acknowledged after holding on for so, so long.

Lin Mo stood on the platform, looking at every face in the square. Old Tom didn't yell; he stood quietly in the corner, the bayonet he had just tempered still tucked at his waist. Locke stood in the last row, his left arm bandaged, his axe planted on the ground, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly, but he said nothing.

Alice stood at the entrance of the Medical Station, watching the square from afar. The silver ring on her right ring finger reflected a thin golden ray of light in the morning sun, which traveled across half the town and landed gently on the mint tin in Lin Mo's chest pocket.

The sunlight shone on everyone's face.

A new day on Hope Star had begun.

And countless light-years away, that being sitting on the Golden Throne, who had not moved for thirty thousand years, saw clearly for the first time through the observation records left by his son, the Archon with the face of an Oriental on this remote planet.

The Emperor's mouth twitched slightly for an instant.

It was not a smile.

It was a person who, after waiting for thirty thousand years, finally saw the first spark of light not ignited by his own hand.

A single spark can start a prairie fire.

— Fragments of memory sealed within the mirror of the emperor, in the first rays of morning light on Hope Star, quietly emerged from the darkness.