Lambs and Gardeners

"Family..." Old He murmured, a glimmer passing through his clouded eyes. He knew what the word "family" meant within the cult. But he felt that the "family" Brother Peng spoke of was somewhat different from the "great family" preached by the priests. It held less fanaticism and illusion, and more genuine warmth.

Gradually, a small circle centered around Liu Zhipeng formed at the very bottom of the mining district. Without realizing it, they began following him, listening to his advice, and treating him as their pillar.

Naturally, all of this caught the attention of the cult's upper ranks.

"He is too popular. He has even surpassed the rules."

Deep within the mining district, inside a secret chapel converted from enormous fungi, the current High Priest, Vaughn, a third-generation hybrid, examined a data slate with his violet-glowing eyes. Displayed upon it was Liu Zhipeng's profile.

Vaughn's face retained most human features, but his scalp was smooth and hairless, his skull warped into inhuman bulges. He wore a purple robe embroidered with cult symbols, and his voice was hoarse and low.

"His faith is devout. The feedback I received from the Hive Mind says that he is wholeheartedly devoted to the Patriarch," the bishop seated opposite him argued. Katz was a fourth-generation hybrid with a burly frame. One of his arms had been modified into a vicious mining cutter claw. He was the cult's military leader.

"Devout? No, you do not understand, Katz." Vaughn shook his head. "His devotion lacks 'reverence.' He has let those lower-class miners feel 'equality' and 'care.' That is good. But he has also made them forget 'waiting' and 'obedience.' He is turning the cult into a... mutual aid society."

Vaughn's concerns were not unfounded. The core of the Genestealer Cult was to establish an organization of absolute obedience and absolute loyalty, to welcome the arrival of the Tyranids. Any cult of personality that could cause the organization to spiral out of control was immensely dangerous.

"What we need is a flock of silent lambs, ready to sacrifice themselves at any moment—not believers who think and ask questions." Vaughn reached his conclusion. "Find an opportunity to put him in his place. Let him understand who the true spokesman for the Patriarch's will is."

The opportunity came quickly.

At a routine gathering to preach the doctrine to the miners, Vaughn appeared in person.

Standing atop a platform piled from ore, he used his compelling voice to paint a beautiful vision of the Day of Ascension. The miners, including Liu Zhipeng, all knelt devoutly on the ground and listened to his teachings.

"...On that day, the sky will split apart, and our god, our savior, the Four-Armed Emperor, will descend from the heavens upon a star of flesh and blood! His claws will tear apart the tyrants who oppress us, and his great maw will devour all injustice! We will become one with him and gain eternal rebirth!"

The miners listened in rapt fascination, fanatical expressions spreading across their faces.

After the sermon ended, Vaughn suddenly turned his gaze toward Liu Zhipeng in the crowd.

"Brother Peng, come forward."

Liu Zhipeng froze for a moment, then obediently walked onto the platform.

"I have heard that you enjoy great prestige among your brothers and sisters." Vaughn's voice revealed neither pleasure nor anger. "They say you are like a beacon in the darkness, warming their hearts. Then tell everyone: how do you understand the Patriarch's 'love'?"

This was a trap.

Everyone's eyes focused on Liu Zhipeng. He knew that if he answered well, it would be expected; if he answered poorly, it would call his faith into question and be enough to destroy all the prestige he had accumulated.

He fell silent for a moment, sensing the cold, vast will emanating from the Hive Mind.

Then he spoke.

"Priest, brothers and sisters." His voice was not loud, but it was exceptionally clear, filled with the affinity bestowed by "A Kind Father's Gaze and Love." "If you ask me, the Patriarch's love is like the land beneath our feet."

He paused, seeing the confusion on everyone's faces.

"It is silent. It is heavy. It bears the weight of us all. We are born here, we labor here, and we die here. We take ore from it, yet never think of repaying it. But it never complains. It simply waits in silence."

"What is it waiting for? It is waiting for a seed."

"A seed that can take root in the deepest darkness, draw upon all pain and despair as nourishment, then finally break through the soil and grow into a towering tree! That tree is our shared hope. It is 'Ascension'!"

"Thus, the Patriarch's love is not a blessing bestowed from on high, but patience that exists alongside us. He is among us—in the sweat of every brother and sister, in the strength behind every swing of a mining pick, in our longing for light every night. We are not passively waiting for salvation, Priest. Every one of us, every act of endurance, every act of mutual aid, is watering and fertilizing that seed of hope!"

Not a single word he said violated the doctrine. Yet he had cleverly transformed the doctrine's passive "waiting" into active "nurturing." He had pulled the lofty "god" down to a place where he existed "with" mortals. He had made every lowly miner feel their own "worth" through those words.

We are not lambs. We are gardeners!

"Well said!" someone in the crowd shouted first.

Immediately afterward, thunderous cheers rang through the entire underground cavern. The miners waved their arms furiously and shouted Brother Peng's name with hoarse throats. Their eyes shone brighter and more fervently than when they had listened to Vaughn's sermon.

Vaughn stood upon the platform, his face livid.

He had intended to use this opportunity to display his authority and portray Liu Zhipeng as a shortsighted man who only understood petty favors.

Instead, before everyone's eyes, Liu Zhipeng had delivered a sermon more successful and more inflammatory than his own. Not only had he failed to put him in his place, he had given him a stepping stone to become the cult's newest spiritual idol in a single leap.

Vaughn looked at the fanatical faces below, then at Liu Zhipeng beside him, who wore a humble expression as though he had merely spoken a few casual thoughts.

For the first time, he felt a chilling dread from this young fourth-generation hybrid.

This failed attempt to "put him in his place" drove Vaughn's wariness of Liu Zhipeng to its peak. But he did not dare act rashly again, because Liu Zhipeng's prestige among the lower-ranking believers was already showing signs of surpassing his own.

As for Liu Zhipeng, he began the next step of his plan.

He knew that personal charisma and eloquence alone could never truly control this organization. He needed an entirely new "theoretical system," one capable of completely replacing the original doctrine.

And as a seasoned Warhammer fan, what could be more suitable for "preaching" than the four great Chaos Gods?