The Empire's March Never Ceased

"..."

Sui Yang sat motionless upon the Golden Throne. His figure seemed the axis of heaven and earth, unshaken and undiminished.

As he raised his eyes, golden light flowed through them. Within his pupils lay a vastness as though the entire galaxy had been compressed into them.

Countless stars seemed to spin, burn, and perish there. Every faint glimmer carried a surge of Psychic Power beyond measure.

A single glance could leave an onlooker feeling as though they had fallen into a bottomless abyss or were staring into an eternal sky.

After five full years of recovery and growth, the Imperium was no longer what it had once been. It had grown steadily more stable and prosperous.

In particular, after Universe 18—the so-called StarCraft universe—was brought into its territory, hundreds of billions of humans and tens of billions of Protoss formally joined the Imperium. Their knowledge and strength breathed new life into its grand ambitions.

The Imperium's borders surged across countless stars and universes. Together with the power of faith supplied by its countless citizens, that expansion sent Sui Yang's Psychic Power soaring to almost absurd heights.

By now, he rarely left the Golden Throne, much less took the field himself.

The reason was simple. Unless he fully restrained his Psychic Power, even an unthinking breath or gesture could destroy a planet, perhaps even plunge an entire star system into oblivion.

This was no exaggeration. The Imperium's leaders knew it to be fact.

Thus, unless Chaos launched a truly massive invasion or a threat like the Tyranids came in tides beyond counting, Sui Yang had no need to intervene personally.

The Imperial Army had become the pinnacle of future warfare. Its weapons, tactics, and resolve could carry most campaigns without him.

For now, the Meditation Hall remained as quiet as