Two Primarch Kitchen Assistants

Not to mention they also received the blessing of Guilliman's Law of Eternity.

Although Guilliman forbade the use of laws, his physical strength alone had already surpassed the peak of ten thousand years ago.

"Agreed," Perturabo said.

"Agreed," Dorn said.

The three men strode confidently toward the dueling arena.

Fifteen minutes later, the stretcher team proudly carried the two people down.

Perturabo had a bruise around his left eye, Dorn's Power Armour was dislocated. Both of them were covered in dust and looked extremely disheveled.

Guilliman walked ahead, not a drop of sweat on his apron.

He walked into the kitchen, picked up a cleaver, and said without turning his head, "Go change your clothes."

"Whale ribs need to be smoked for seven days and seven nights; there's no time to waste."

Perturabo lay on the stretcher, covering his eyes, his voice muffled. "How... how can his physical body be so strong..."

Dorn's jaw had just been reattached, and his speech was still slightly slurred. "Because he is the Eternal Lord, C'tan with a physical body."

Fifteen minutes later, two more kitchen helpers appeared in the kitchen.

Perturabo stood by the pool, a small mountain of Void Whale entrails piled up in front of him.

His expression was even worse than before, but he didn't complain; he just silently cleaned the viscera that shimmered with stardust.

Dorn stood beside him, holding a huge boning knife, cutting up whale meat according to Guilliman's instructions.

Every cut must be made with full force, because the flesh of the Void Whale is tougher than steel.

Sanguinius stood in the corner of the kitchen, smiling without saying a word.

He was wearing a red apron embroidered with the emblem of the Blood Angels, holding a glass of red wine, and leaning elegantly against the wall.

His wings were folded behind him, gleaming with a soft golden light under the kitchen lamp.

"Aren't you going to help?" Perturabo looked at him, his eyes full of resentment.

Sanguinius took a sip of wine. "I am a connoisseur."

I'll try it once you've finished cooking.

Perturabo's lips twitched, but he said nothing.

Because he couldn't beat Sanguinius.

Besides, Sanguinius' smile was so charming that he felt embarrassed to get angry.

Guilliman stood in front of the chef's counter, before him lay the Void Whale, which had already been dismembered.

He personally captured that whale at the edge of the Warp; it was as big as a cruiser, and it took him three days and three nights just to skin it.

Guilliman removed the flesh from the area where the whale's rib cartilage was attached. The flesh was the color of purple jade, and its texture resembled a nebula. Under the light, it shimmered with a faint Psionic Energy glow.

He lit the fragments of the sacred object in a specially made incense burner, a mixture of oak, pine, and spice roots gathered from the Garden of Nurgle of the Imperial Palace.

The smoke was golden, carrying a strange, pleasant fragrance, and filled the kitchen.

Perturabo coughed, choked by the smoke. "What's that smell?"

Guilliman did not look up. "Scraps of the Emperor's Holy Shroud."

I borrowed it from Malcador.

Perturabo's expression changed.

Dorn's hand trembled slightly.

Using the Holy Shroud smoke meat? What kind of operation is that?

The smoking process lasts for seven days and seven nights, locking the Warp fluctuations within the meat and allowing every fiber to be infused with the sacred essence.

Guilliman hung the whale ribs in the smokehouse, set the time and temperature, and then began preparing the next dish.

The fat of the Void Whale is not ordinary oil, but a semi-solid aggregate of void energy.

Guilliman cut it into palm-sized, thick slices, each about three fingers thick, with a faint blue sheen on the surface.

He opened the Melta plate, whose temperature was enough to melt the armor of a warship, but it was just right for the Void Whale's blubber.

The moment the whale blubber was released, the entire kitchen glowed.

The light was distorted, as if it were frying a small piece of the universe.

The grease sizzles as it melts, a sound with a deep hum, like some ancient prayer.

The outer layer quickly becomes brittle and bubbly, forming an amber-colored hard shell, while the inside remains dense and creamy, maintaining a semi-fluid state.

Guilliman brushed on a mixture of honey and sauce crystals, then sprinkled on a trace amount of plasma electrolyte.

The electrolyte sparked with tiny electric sparks on the Melta plate, filling the entire kitchen with a mixture of caramel and sweet aromas.

Perturabo swallowed hard.

He didn't want to admit it, but the taste was indeed very tempting.

Guilliman picked up the spine that Dorn had removed; the bone was thicker than his thigh and its surface was covered with patterns made of dark matter.

He used a power hammer to crack open the joints, and what flowed inside was not bone marrow, but a stardust-like substance, pale purple, which looked like a liquid nebula under the light.

He put the gelatinous substance into a large cauldron and added purified stellar water—a plasma fluid extracted from the surface of the sun, purified through seventy-two Adeptus Mechanicus processes.

Then he added fragments of the sacred scroll, nourishing herbs, and several spices that even Perturabo couldn't name.

Simmer over low heat.

The soup always had a faint Warp halo floating on it, never boiling or bubbling, yet it could nourish the bones and strengthen Psionic Energy resistance.

The aroma wafted from the kitchen, reaching every corner of the palace, past the Golden Throne, and right up to Malcador, who was handling state affairs.

Malcador put down his pen, took a deep breath, and then continued reviewing the documents.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, clearly showing his anticipation for tonight's banquet.

Guilliman took out a piece of whale skin, as thick as warship armor, with traces of entanglement with cosmic parasites still remaining on its surface.

He first used high explosives to peel off the outer layer—a step performed by Perturabo, the Lord of Iron was very skilled at this type of blasting.

Then it's laser-cut thin, each slice as thin as a cicada's wing, so thin you can see the light on the other side through it.

Coated in a mixture of starch and mineral powder, it was thrown into the boiling reactor oil.

The oil was specially supplied by the Adeptus Mechanicus; its temperature was high enough to melt steel, but it was just right for the Void Whale's hide.

When it comes out of the pot, it's crisp and glassy, with a golden-brown surface. When you bite into it, it makes a crisp "crunch" sound. Inside is a soft center that's a mixture of gelatinous and ethereal energy, with a tingling sensation from a microcurrent.

Dorn was in charge of the final step: sprinkling the dipping sauce.

Garlic, chili, salt crystals, and crushed spices, precisely measured to the milligram according to Guilliman's recipe.

His movements were as precise as if he were building a fortress, and the sauce on every piece of whale skin was distributed exactly the same.

This is the most difficult one.

The Void Whale's tongue is the most tender part of its body, yet it's still hard enough to smash a cruiser.

Guilliman temporarily softened it using Warp Stasis Field, then sliced it into translucent, thin pieces.

Each sheet is as thin as rice paper, and gleams with a pale purple luster under the light.

The presentation resembled Western sashimi, accompanied by purifying salt, Psionic Energy herbs, and a pale purple sauce—made with Void Whale Blood and Stellar Water, its flavor a sweet and sour blend with an invigorating freshness.

Perturabo tasted the sauce and his eyes widened.

He didn't want to admit it, but it really did taste quite good.