Candor

The nights in the Colchis desert were bitterly cold, as though they could freeze all the bloodshed and madness of the day into ice. Beneath a wind-sheltered rock face, a small campfire crackled. Its dancing flames drove back the darkness and chill in a small circle, illuminating the vastly different expressions of the two men seated around it.

Zhou Beichen poked at the fire with a branch, making the flames burn brighter. There was a trace of fatigue on his face, but more than that, there was the relief of a burden lifted. Lorgar sat silently across from him. His hulking body cast an enormous shadow in the firelight, and his violet eyes stared unblinking at the leaping flames—and at Zhou Beichen beyond them.

An unspoken question hung in the air. Lorgar's gaze was too intent, too heavy, laden with the shock of the day's battle, confusion over his own power, and endless questions about those blasphemous beings. He knew his father—though that title now carried a far more complicated weight in his heart—must know something. Knowledge that went far beyond Colchis, even beyond this age, lay hidden behind those ever-calculating eyes.

Zhou Beichen felt the pressure of that gaze. He raised his head to meet Lorgar's eyes and smiled, his expression carrying both helplessness and the calm acceptance that what had to come would come.

"Ask whatever you want." Zhou Beichen tossed the branch into the fire and brushed the ash from his hands. "As long as I know the answer, today... I'll hold nothing back."

The campfire burned silently for a moment, accompanied only by the mournful howl of the wind.

At last, Lorgar's deep voice broke the silence. His first question was direct and sharp.

"Did you already know me in your world?"

Zhou Beichen did not seem surprised. He nodded and answered crisply.

"Yes."

"Why?" Lorgar pressed, profound confusion in his eyes. Why would a soul from another world possess such clear knowledge of his fate and the world he lived in?

Zhou Beichen grinned, his smile strange and touched by an indescribable absurdity.

"Because your world, how should I put it?" He considered his phrasing, trying to explain in a way Lorgar could understand. "It's actually... a setting created by a shady company to sell little pieces."

"Pieces?" Lorgar frowned slightly. He understood the word, but its meaning here disturbed him.

"Yeah, pieces. Tiny models made of plastic or resin. People buy them, paint them, then push them around on a table to simulate war." Zhou Beichen gestured with his hands. "And your stories, your history, your... fate, are the 'setting' that gives those pieces background and meaning. A very... dark, brutal setting, but one that draws in plenty of people because of it."

Lorgar fell silent. He could not fully understand how a "company" operated or what exactly it meant to "sell pieces," but he grasped the core of it—his existence, his suffering, his choices, on another level, were merely... accessories to some commercial product? The impact of that realization was no less severe than the Chaos daemons from earlier that day.

He processed that suffocating truth. Only after a long while did he ask his second question, one about the beginning of it all.

"Why did you kill Korfalon? Was it because of something he would do in the future?"

"You really are sharp." Zhou Beichen nodded approvingly, his eyes turning cold. "Later, he would kill everyone in the village, including the people who first took you in and sheltered you. Then he would find you and use his twisted doctrines to turn you into a... religious machine. You'd spend all day meditating and chanting, with nothing in your head except his brand of extreme, xenophobic theology. An idiot... stripped of the ability to think for himself, a tool that could only blindly spread 'truth.'"

Lorgar's pupils contracted slightly. He recalled Korfalon's eyes, seemingly devout yet cold beneath the surface, and Zhou Beichen's decisive assassination, which had even seemed somewhat ruthless at the time. So it had not merely been about "eliminating a competitor and securing absolute control over a core asset." It had also been... about saving him from a predetermined, miserable fate.

"And what about my later story?" Lorgar's voice carried a dryness he himself did not notice. "Does it have anything to do with what we encountered today?"

"It does. A whole lot." Zhou Beichen's expression became serious. He pointed at the ground beneath them, then at the endless starry sky. "This thing is called the Warp. You can think of it as... a negative reflection attached to the real universe, or a vast, chaotic dimension of emotional energy."

He tried to explain with concise language. "There are many... uh, things called 'daemons' in there, like the four 'angels' you saw today. The Warp is essentially an emotional tide. It gathers, amplifies, and distorts the emotions of every intelligent being in the universe. And the four Chaos Gods—those four things you just saw." Zhou Beichen counted them off on his fingers. "The blood-red one represents rage, violence, and slaughter. That's Khorne. The pus-covered one represents despair, disease, and stubbornness. That's Nurgle. The ever-changing one represents conspiracy, change, and hope. That's Tzeentch. And that flamboyant one represents extreme sensory stimulation, corrupt desire, and perfectionism. That's Slaanesh."

After a pause, he added, "In a sense, they each have two sides. Khorne could also be a god of strength and justice. Nurgle could be a god of life and acceptance. Tzeentch could be a god of wisdom and creation. Slaanesh could be a god of beauty and art. But because this godforsaken material universe is full of war, pain, disease, and betrayal, negative emotions far outnumber positive ones. So, you know, they all ended up like this. And the Warp... turned into one giant shithole along with them."

Lorgar listened quietly, his extraordinary intellect striving to digest this subversive information. Emotional tides? Aggregates of the universe's negative emotions? The dual nature of gods? It was utterly unlike any philosophical or theological system he knew, yet it vaguely explained the chaotic, twisted, powerful essence of the force he had felt during the day.

"The power you used today, psychic power," Zhou Beichen said, looking at Lorgar, "also comes from the Warp. It's like drawing water directly from that ocean of emotions. The more you use it, the more likely you are to catch the attention of its 'residents'—those daemons. They'll tempt you, corrupt you, and in the end, either devour you or turn you into their puppet." Then his tone shifted, carrying a trace of relief. "But luckily, you seem to be an exception, kid. That golden flame of yours seems to naturally possess... qualities of order and purification. It has an extremely strong restraining effect on their corrupt energy. They seem to have a hard time corrupting you directly."

Lorgar lowered his head and looked at his palms, as though he could still feel the warmth and power of those golden flames. So the source of this power was such a dangerous, dark domain. He was an exception? Was it because of... the nature of a primarch?

He took a deep breath and asked the most crucial, most weighty question.

"Then what happens to me in the future? In my... original story."

Zhou Beichen fell silent for a moment, seemingly organizing his thoughts. Finally, with nearly cruel bluntness, he said, "The day your dad—the guy sitting on that golden toilet... uh, throne—came, you took him for a god. You dropped to your knees and worshipped him, fanatical as hell. But your damned dad, the Emperor of Mankind, hated nothing more than people worshipping him as a god. The whole point of his Imperial Truth was to wipe out religion."

"So," Zhou Beichen spread his hands, "your dad did one thing after another to break your heart. He denied the value of your faith, destroyed the perfect city you had built. In short, he used an incredibly shitty method to push away you, his foolish son who craved a father's love and recognition, step by step."

"Then Korfalon—oh, and another guy named Erebus; if I ever get the chance, I'm definitely taking that bastard out first—led you astray. They exploited your grief and confusion, guiding you to the four Chaos Gods. You sided with them, believing they were the 'true gods.' Then you went and tempted your more famous, even more tragic big brother, Warmaster Horus, and made him betray your dad too."

Zhou Beichen paused, then spoke of the tragedy that swept across the galaxy. "Then came the Horus Heresy. Half the Imperium of Man came crashing down. God knows how many people died. Your dad was beaten so badly he could only sit on that golden toilet and cling to life. Human civilization never recovered, struggling in darkness and despair for ten thousand years, until... uh, at least that's where the story ended as far as I knew."

A deathly silence descended around the campfire. There was only the crackle of burning flames and the wind sweeping across the desert.

After a long time, Lorgar slowly raised his head. His face was expressionless, but incomparably complex emotions surged in those violet eyes—shock, absurdity, rage, and a deep sorrow for the path of his original fate... along with disgust.

He processed the horrifying revelation. At last, in an unusually calm tone that nevertheless made even Zhou Beichen's skin crawl, he summed it up.

"So, in my original fate, I kicked humanity..." He paused, as if searching for an apt enough expression. In the end, he drew inspiration from Zhou Beichen's usual profanity. "...out of the slop bucket and straight into the shit pit?"

Zhou Beichen froze for a moment, then could not stop himself from snorting with laughter. Yet his smile quickly became one of helpless agreement, and he nodded vigorously.

"Bingo! Correct! That's an incredibly apt summary! That's exactly what it means!"

Another silence followed. Lorgar watched the dancing flames as though he were looking upon that burning, predetermined tragic future.

"So," he spoke again, his voice low, "you came here, changed Korfalon's fate, guided me in building the Earthly Heaven, even... taught me about 'investments' and 'scheming'..."

"So you wouldn't become that idiot who only knew how to chant scripture. So those two charlatans wouldn't fool you. So you wouldn't kick your dad... and all humanity into the shit pit." Zhou Beichen took over, his tone calm but carrying unquestionable resolve. "Your dad's an asshole too, but at least his dream of 'humanity standing on its own' is a little better than the Chaos shit pit."

"And besides," Zhou Beichen added, his usual calculating smile appearing on his face, "haven't we been doing pretty well? Work-point systems, reverse acquisitions, short-selling indulgences... We're building order our way, surviving our way, maybe even... living better. Why do we need to believe in that stuff?"

Lorgar did not answer immediately. He stared into the campfire, images of the day's battle echoing through his mind—the corrupt energy, the so-called "angels," and his own golden flames, so utterly at odds with them yet able to purify them. He also recalled every moment spent building the Earthly Heaven: the hope earned through hard work and fair rules, the hearts brought together not by blind faith, but by real interests and shared goals.

After a long while, Zhou Beichen spoke again. His tone became exceptionally serious, carrying an unprecedented gravity.

"One last thing I need to teach you, son."

Lorgar looked up at him. "What?"

"No matter what anyone promises you," Zhou Beichen said word by word, his gaze sharp as a blade, "no matter how generous their offer, no matter how wonderful it sounds—eternal life, limitless power, absolute truth, perfect order... if it does not conform to the most fundamental business principle of 'equivalent exchange,' treat it as a scam and reject it without hesitation!"

He stared into Lorgar's eyes as though he wished to carve those words into the depths of his soul. "Remember, in this universe—and any universe—what is free is often the most expensive. Every gift has its price secretly marked upon it. You may simply be unable to bear the method and timing of payment."

He paused, his voice low and clear.

"The Emperor is the same. The four gods are the same. Your brothers are the same." Finally, he turned that gaze upon himself, with a peculiar candor. "So am I."