High Priest

The heavy blast door slowly opened, and air reeking of machine oil and sweat rushed in, shattering the sanctity and heat of the place.

A figure walked in from outside, backlit by the doorway. He was neither hurried nor slow, and there was not the slightest reverence for this holy place in his stride. Instead, he looked like a master inspecting his own domain.

It was Liu Zhipeng.

Behind him followed Bishop Katz's burly figure, his cutting claws scraping a trail of sparks across the ground. Behind him were four hybrids dressed in different styles, the leaders of the Four Gods Hall: Steel Fist, the muscle-bound fighting champion representing Khorne; Grochi, the kindly smiling "Rot Mother" representing Nurgle; Spiral, the twitchy technician with flickering eyes representing Tzeentch; and Lost Echo, the artist whose every gesture carried theatrical flair, representing Slaanesh.

Together, they represented the cult's current core of power. Their appearance was itself a silent declaration of coup.

The Patriarch's enormous head slowly turned. His black gemstone-like eyes shifted from Vaughn, twitching on the ground, to Liu Zhipeng's face.

In that instant, the entire hive consciousness network fell silent.

An exchange beyond language, transcending species and thought, unfolded between the Patriarch and Liu Zhipeng.

There were no words, only a clash of pure wills.

The Patriarch's will was full of questions, but even more than that, it carried recognition born of survival and evolution. He did not understand "glory," "hope," "fate," or "beauty," but he could understand the results those concepts brought about.

[Your "teachings" have made my children stronger, tougher, smarter, and more... "vibrant."]

[Such "vitality" is beneficial to future "ascension."]

[The old methods of guidance... were inefficient.]

Liu Zhipeng calmly accepted the scrutiny of that will. He, too, sent a simple and clear message through his mind to this alien progenitor who had lived for centuries.

[I merely allowed them to experience the true wonder of "ascension" ahead of time.][I taught them to use their own hands to welcome that grand "feast."]

The exchange lasted only an instant.

Yet its outcome decided everyone's fate.

The Patriarch's enormous alien head gave the faintest nod. It was an almost imperceptible motion, but the meaning contained within it exploded through the hive consciousness network like thunder.

He had acknowledged Liu Zhipeng.

Immediately afterward, the Patriarch withdrew his psychic link with Vaughn. The immense will that had supported Vaughn while tearing him apart vanished in an instant.

Vaughn crumpled to the ground like a balloon that had been drained of all its air. After undergoing extreme expansion and tearing, his mind was abruptly hollowed out, collapsing completely and irreversibly... He foamed at the mouth, rolled his eyes back, and made meaningless clicking sounds in his throat like a broken doll.

The doctrines of the old era, along with their spokesman, met their death.

Then the Patriarch raised his blade-like forelimb. That claw, capable of slicing through alloy armor, slowly pointed at the collapsed Vaughn before turning toward Liu Zhipeng in an unquestionable gesture.

Deposition.

Appointment.

The entire process was filled with the cold, efficient logic unique to alien life.

Bishop Katz was the first to react. His warrior's instincts made him understand immediately what had happened. He stepped forward, dropped to one knee, laid his massive cutting claw across his chest, and lowered his proud head before Liu Zhipeng.

"The progenitor's will is made manifest through you." For the first time, Katz's voice carried fervent reverence. "I heed your teachings, great... High Priest."

The four hall masters behind him immediately knelt as well, each offering loyalty to their new leader in their own way.

"For strength and blood!" "For resilience and rebirth!" "For change and destiny!" "For pleasure and perfection!"

"...For the Four-Armed Emperor!"

Liu Zhipeng stood before them, bathed in the dark red glow rising from the depths of the geothermal well. He looked at the remnant of the old era at his feet, now nothing but an empty shell, then at the alien progenitor on the throne who had shown his approval. Finally, he turned his gaze toward these future subverters of the planet, who had sworn their loyalty to him.

He drew a deep breath of scorching air thick with sulfur, then broke into a brilliant smile.

"Rise, brothers and sisters."

"Our cause has only just begun."

"From this day onward, this cult will no longer be lambs hiding in the shadows, passively waiting."

"We will become a sharp blade! A sharp blade that strikes first and offers this world to our gods as a sacrifice!"

"We will make Viridia's skies burn for us!"

After Liu Zhipeng formally became the cult's "High Priest," a thorough top-down organizational reform began.

He abolished the old bloated and inefficient management structure, establishing an entirely new militarized system centered around the Four Gods Hall.

Bishop Katz's Power Hall was officially renamed the Fury Warband, becoming the cult's armed core. They were responsible for all military operations, from gathering and modifying weapons to training believers in combat, and eventually spearheading the frontal assault of the uprising. Their creed was simple and pure: pave the road to greet the gods with the skulls of their enemies.

Rot Mother Grochi's Resilience Hall was reorganized into the Hand of the Father, becoming the cult's logistics and support department. They handled everyone's food, clothing, shelter, and transport, treated the wounded and sick, and... developed biochemical weapons. They began cultivating all kinds of "interesting" viruses and bacteria in the mine's wastewater and ventilation systems, preparing to send the nobles of the upper world a gift full of "love" on the Day of Ascension.

Technician Spiral's Change Hall became the Eye of Change, the cult's intelligence and sabotage organization. Like ghosts, they infiltrated every corner of Viridia. They tapped the planetary defense force's communications, altered Adeptus Mechanicus production data, and spread heretical ideas through Ecclesiarchy churches. They believed that with enough "variables," the final "result" would inevitably lead to the "fate" they desired.

Artist Lost Echo's Pleasure Hall became the Perfect Voice, the cult's propaganda and cultural department. They used the wildest art to infect and recruit new believers. In the lower levels of the Hive City, they held secret "carnival masses," using deafening industrial noise rock and mind-exhilarating hallucinogenic incense to turn Ecclesiarchy followers into fanatic devotees of the Four-Armed Emperor. Their slogan was: if salvation could not be made magnificent, then salvation itself was meaningless!

And Liu Zhipeng sat high atop this madly whirring war machine. He no longer needed to handle every detail himself. He only needed to set the general direction, then watch these four efficient departments execute his will perfectly, in a manner steeped in chaos.