Four gods in one

He began to "reinterpret" the "Four-Armed Emperor."

He gathered his innermost circle of followers in a more secluded place and began preaching "advanced theology."

"Brothers, have you ever wondered why our savior is the Emperor of 'Four Arms'?" he asked cryptically.

They exchanged bewildered looks. It was a question they had never considered. As far as they knew, the Patriarch simply had four arms. It was as natural as the sun giving off light.

Liu Zhipeng smiled.

"Because each arm represents a sacred power! A path to 'ascension'!"

He picked up a piece of red ore and held it high.

"Look! This first arm represents 'strength' and 'anger'! Day after day, the overseers oppress us and the governor exploits us. Is there no anger in our hearts? That anger is not a sin! It is sacred! It is the strength the Patriarch has bestowed upon us! The Patriarch wants us to use that anger to shatter our shackles! Let us cry out his first sacred name-Khorne! He is the god of strength, the embodiment of anger! His gift is courage!"

The followers felt their blood surge as they listened. For the first time, their resentment and fury had been given a "sacred" meaning.

Next, Liu Zhipeng picked up a clump of corrosive moss that gave off a green phosphorescent glow.

"This second arm represents 'resilience' and 'rebirth'! We live in filth, with sickness and plague as our companions. Yet we have not fallen! Every bout of illness makes us stronger! This resilience is the Patriarch's trial, and his blessing! He tells us that decay ends in rebirth! Let us praise his second name-Nurgle! He is the lord of resilience, the loving father god! His gift is hope that never gives way to despair!"

For miners who lived with disease and workplace injuries year after year, this doctrine spoke straight to their hearts. For the first time, they felt that their scars and illnesses were no longer sources of suffering, but "medals."

Then Liu Zhipeng pointed to a strangely twisted, multicolored crystal in the church's dome, formed by geological shifts.

"This third arm represents 'wisdom' and 'change'! A life that never changes is hell! We long for change! And change requires wisdom! The Patriarch wants us to think, to devise, to create opportunities for change! His third name is Tzeentch! He is the master of change, the weaver of fate! His gift is wisdom!"

Finally, Liu Zhipeng spread his arms and spoke in a voice brimming with temptation:

"And this fourth arm represents 'joy' and 'sensation'! We have been stripped of every pleasure! But the Patriarch tells us that pursuing happiness is not depravity! It is our birthright as human beings! Every heartfelt laugh, every satisfying taste of good food, every warm embrace with our families answers his call! His fourth name is Slaanesh! He is the paradise of bliss, the prince of sensation! His gift is every beautiful experience!"

And so he concocted a complete new theology of the "Four-Armed Emperor," founded on the Chaos Gods.

This doctrine might as well have been tailor-made for Viridia's miners. It perfectly answered every yearning in their hearts: their hunger for strength, their need to understand suffering, their hope for change, and their longing for happiness.

It was a hundred times more concrete, more enticing, and more profound than Vaughn's hollow doctrine of "waiting for salvation"!

"The Four-Armed Emperor... so he is a great god, four in one!"

"Khorne! Nurgle! Tzeentch! Slaanesh!"

The followers fervently chanted these four new "divine names," feeling as though a door to a new world was slowly opening before them.

Liu Zhipeng watched their fervor with a satisfied smile.

He knew that once this doctrine spread like a plague through the cult's lower ranks, Vaughn and his old era would be buried for good.

A sweeping campaign to seize power in the name of "religious reform" had officially begun. And the character of this planet was about to hurtle in an utterly bizarre direction that no one could have foreseen.

The fire of "new theology" that Liu Zhipeng had kindled swept like a wildfire through the dark, oppressive depths of the mining districts on Viridia Prime, spreading at an unimaginable speed.

The doctrine was simply too enticing. Like a key, it opened the most secret lock in every miner's heart with perfect precision. It told them that anger was sacred, suffering was glorious, change was possible, and pleasure was legitimate. This stood in stark contrast to the Ecclesiarchy's stale platitudes telling them to endure, obey, and serve the Emperor faithfully after death, as well as High Priest Vaughn's empty promises that left them waiting passively in despair.

Before long, the cult's daily activities began to take on an increasingly bizarre character.

During their breaks, groups of miners no longer numbly gnawed on nutrient paste. Instead, they gathered together, beating out rhythmic war drums on scrap metal and softly chanting battle hymns in praise of "Khorne, the god of strength."

Their eyes were no longer vacant, but burned with suppressed fury. Any overseer foolish enough to come looking for trouble was often driven back by the glares of dozens of bloodshot eyes. That almost tangible killing intent could even trigger logic failures in the half-mechanical slave foremen.

In the residential districts with the worst sanitation and the most rampant disease, some believers began organizing of their own accord. They no longer regarded the sick as burdens, but called them "those blessed by Grandfather Nurgle."

They set up rudimentary sickrooms, tending to the patients with stolen medicine and herbs combined with prayer. They discovered that in this atmosphere of active mutual aid, many people's survival rates actually improved miraculously. A morbid yet resilient sense of community quietly took shape amid the stench and plague.

Among the skilled workers, miners who knew how to operate machinery and handle demolition became devoted followers of "Tzeentch, the Lord of Change." They no longer simply followed routine to finish their work, but secretly began conducting all sorts of "experiments."

They would "accidentally" alter demolition plans, weakening a section of rock that supported the nobles' district above. They would "inadvertently" plant a tiny logic bomb in an ore conveyor's control program, causing it to dump an entire load of ore into the governor's private elevator shaft at a critical moment. These little "changes" brought endless thrills and amusement to their monotonous lives.

As for the followers of "Slaanesh, the prince of bliss," they were even harder to guard against. They became the cult's artists and hedonists. They used fluorescent fungi to paint twisted, dazzling murals on dark walls, and fashioned discarded pipes into instruments that produced eerily enchanting sounds.

They also founded a "gourmet appreciation society," dedicated to studying how nutrient paste that tasted like wax could be made "full of flavor" by adding all sorts of strange seasonings, such as a mold that gave off a sweet fragrance. They even began holding small "fashion shows" within the cult, designing all manner of post-apocalyptic "haute couture" out of rags and metal parts.