This Is a Transitional Plot

Fu Qinghai and Ogedei sat side by side on a steel plate atop the warship, watching the residents below working with fervent intensity. The star gradually descended, and the sunset stretched two long silhouettes out before them.

One large, one small.

"A whole day has passed, why haven't they come yet?" Fu Qinghai asked.

Ogedei watched the busy scene below with a calm gaze and said faintly, "The ship is some distance from the planet; they might also be verifying my identity."

"Your identity?"

"You know, psykers have some special methods."

Special methods? Upon hearing this, Fu Qinghai looked at Ogedei with eyes full of curiosity.

Ogedei explained, "As far as I know, our Legion's Chief Stormseer, Yesugei, can make a strong Astartes briefly lose their memory, forgetting their purpose and forgetting what just happened."

"Oh." Fu Qinghai let out an "oh," feeling a little disappointed. He had thought that the psykers of the Space Marine Legions could directly control a person's mind like Yuri.

Ogedei's comrades might be worried that Ogedei had been briefly brainwashed by the Legion Librarians of the Sons of Horus. That possibility existed, but the probability was low.

Fu Qinghai could not fathom the point of a precious Legion Librarian appearing on a remote planet like Cheslatan.

The appearance of even a single Space Marine was enough to be news.

Even if it were brainwashing, it could only last for a short time and could not control a Space Marine for long.

Thinking further, the current Sons of Horus, formerly the Luna Wolves, had been staunch supporters of The Emperor's decision to abolish the Librarian corps during the Council of Nikaea, where the regulation of Legion psykers was discussed. The proportion of Librarian units in the 16th Legion was not high.

"Trust me, they will be here soon," Ogedei comforted him.

Fu Qinghai also felt some anticipation in his heart; he hoped that many of his doubts could be answered during the subsequent landing.

In the distance, a fixed-wing aircraft with white and red livery kicked up a violent cloud of dust. Accompanied by the roar of engines, its massive fuselage slowly descended.

Unlike the streamlined aerodynamic shapes popular in the aircraft of his past life on Earth, this craft, aside from its massive size comparable to a space shuttle, had an overall appearance that was angular, with straight, rigid lines and thick, sturdy armor, full of a ferocious, muscular aesthetic.

The main wings were swept back, and there were two small canards beside the nose. Both sets of wings were equally sturdy, thick, and angular, with two pairs of dark, twin-linked heavy bolters exposed on the sides of the fuselage.

If the fighter jets of his past life on Earth were elegant, slender, graceful ladies, this behemoth was a muscular, brawny man armed to the teeth.

The Stormbird, a general-purpose attack and transport craft for Space Marine Legions, could fly both outside and within an atmosphere, and was typically used by Space Marine Legions as a landing craft.

Fu Qinghai had no complaints about its appearance, which looked very sturdy and durable but was highly un-aerodynamic. Flying outside the atmosphere didn't require consideration of aerodynamic shapes, and when flying within the atmosphere...

As everyone knows, as long as the power is sufficient, even a brick can fly. Only those sissy aircraft with insufficient engine thrust need to consider aerodynamics; mindlessly adding thrust is the essence of aerial violent aesthetics.

Watching the Stormbird slowly landing in the distance, Fu Qinghai's thoughts gradually drifted out of this universe itself.

The Vth Legion, the White Scars, was essentially a product of the British writers at GW having only a superficial understanding of Mongol culture. The setting of this Legion drew heavily from the culture and systems of many steppe regimes, including the Mongol, Jin, and Liao dynasties. Various popular cultures in the world influence each other, and as the second "Scourge of God," the Mongol Empire was naturally mysterious, powerful, and attractive in the eyes of modern Europeans. For example, the German band Dschinghis Khan, which was popular in Europe and America during the disco era, was a good example.

However, this love for Mongol culture among Europeans was more of a "Lord Ye loves dragons" type of yearning; they did not truly understand Mongol culture. Mongol culture is also a part of Chinese culture. As a Huaxia person, Fu Qinghai naturally had a deeper understanding of the Mongol Yuan dynasty than the average European. But after careful consideration, he realized that precisely because of the superficial understanding of the GW writers, his knowledge of Mongol history and culture could not help him better integrate into the White Scars Legion. He would still have to rely more on trying to recall the development of the original plot to gain benefits.

After it came to a steady stop, the ramp on the belly of the Stormbird slowly opened. Fu Qinghai pushed Ogedei's wheelchair to meet it.

A tall silhouette appeared in the smoke and dust that had yet to dissipate, and a pair of scarlet lights lit up—the lenses of an Astartes power armor helmet.

The dust settled, and a tall warrior wearing power armor and a helmet walked down the ramp. He gently removed his helmet and placed it at his waist, revealing a face with a buzz cut that had seen many hardships. His first glance was at Ogedei's empty lower body in the wheelchair. The joy that had been on his face gradually faded, and he spoke in a complex tone:

"Ogedei, my brother, are you alright?"

Ogedei, in the wheelchair, stared fixedly at the tall warrior before him, then suddenly burst into laughter and opened his arms, saying, "Of course, Talal, I am doing great—better than ever!"

In Calvin's small villa.

Two men of massive, clearly superhuman proportions sat opposite each other. There was no one else here; even Calvin himself had been kicked out of the living room.

"This is a worthless colony planet. It hasn't even had time to establish agricultural or breeding factories. Food, fuel, materials, supplies, population—there is nothing here. Why would the Sons of Horus come here?" Talal asked.

"I don't know," Ogedei pursed his lips, "but I have a guess."

"What guess?"

"They don't know either." After saying this, Ogedei poured a glass of wine.

"What do you mean? Oh, you mean..." Talal, sitting opposite him, was stunned, then immediately reacted.

"Exactly. This is a planet discovered and conquered by the 17th Expedition Fleet, not by us, and not by the Sons of Horus." Ogedei finished, swirled the amber liquid in the glass, and downed it in one gulp.

Smacking his lips, Ogedei continued, "You see, the Blood Angels conquered a planet and marked it on the star map as a Terra-like planet suitable for agricultural development, and that was that. They had no need, nor any way, to inform other Legions of the actual development status of this planet."

"After all, the psychic communications of the Astropaths are brief, fragmented, and precious. You know, they cannot be used to transmit such trivial information."

"And when the Sons of Horus see a planet marked as an agricultural world on the star map, what do you think they will do?"

"Regardless of anything else, they will come to take a look first," Talal affirmed.

Might as well take a swing at it, whether there are dates or not.

"Exactly, and then we just happened to bump into them." After saying this, Ogedei pushed his wheelchair toward the cabinet on the side.

"This wine is actually quite tasty. I originally thought that apart from the strong spirits of Chogoris, no other planet's swill would interest me. Perhaps losing my legs has also changed my sense of taste. I have to find two more bottles in his cabinet."

"You bandit," Talal laughed and scolded. "To be honest, when you decided to lead the tactical squad to board the Gryphon, we all thought you were crazy. Being able to see you alive now, I already feel very fortunate."

"We cannot let any traitor go." At this point, Ogedei's searching movement stopped. He frowned, staring at the floor in front of him, as if recalling some painful event. "I think of Haidu, I think of Ajil, I think of many of my brothers. They did not die in battle against the greenskins, but fell under the blades of their own kind."

A flicker of hatred flashed in Ogedei's eyes, "I wish I could catch up to our fleet right now and go to Terra to fight the traitors to the death, for the Khan, and for The Emperor."

"You are right," Talal said in a deep voice, "but do not forget, we have a mission to carry out."

"I haven't forgotten," Ogedei said, closing the cabinet, having found nothing, "say no more, we leave now."

"But before we leave, I must take someone with me."