On certain garden worlds, some foolish parents would tell their children—as long as you always believed in The Emperor, treated others kindly, and were a good person, the world would repay you in kind.
They were, of course, wildly wrong, except for the first part. And even the first part was not entirely correct; at the very least, The Emperor himself certainly would not have wanted you to worship him. It was merely an act of necessity.
And a necessary one.
But whether you were a good person in the traditional sense or one of the so-called bad ones, the world's attitude toward humanity was indifference. The world was a broad concept. It did not care whether you lived or died, nor whether you had enough to eat or clothes to keep you warm, and it certainly would not care about your mental health.
In truth, it probably did not care about anything. It treated everything equally—with equal coldness.
So, if there was someone who cared not only about your life and safety, your mental health, but had even personally arranged an entire series of matters such as food, clothing, supplies, and transport...
"I don't know what to say, Captain," Fulgrim said, pursing his lips.
He Shenyan rubbed his brow, leaned back in his chair, and waved a hand. "If you don't know what to say, then don't say anything. Take these allocated Simulation Pods down to the Lower Decks, claim an operating room, and then go to First City or Third City to pick people. The children of suitable age should already be prepared. I sent out the notice yesterday."
"We're starting now?" The Phoenix seemed as though he still had not quite come back to himself.
"You can wait. I don't care when you begin rebuilding your Legion."