High Priest

The heavy gate slowly opened, and air thick with machine oil and the stink of sweat surged in, breaking the sanctity and searing heat of the place.

A figure entered through the doorway, silhouetted against the light. He walked at an unhurried pace, his steps showing no reverence for this holy place. Instead, he looked like a master inspecting his own domain.

It was Liu Zhipeng.

Behind him came Bishop Kaz's hulking figure, his cutting claws scraping a trail of sparks across the floor. Behind him were four hybrids dressed in different styles, the leaders of the "Four Gods' Halls": the muscle-bound fighting champion "Iron Fist," who represented Khorne; "Rot Mother" Grotch, wearing a kindly smile, who represented Nurgle; the twitchy technician "Spiral," with darting eyes, who represented Tzeentch; and the artist "Mystic Voice," whose every gesture carried a theatrical flair, who represented Slaanesh.

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

The Patriarch's enormous head slowly turned, his eyes like black gemstones shifting from Vaughn, who knelt convulsing on the ground, to Liu Zhipeng's face.

In that instant, the entire Broodmind network fell silent.

An exchange beyond words, spanning species and modes of thought, unfolded between the Patriarch and Liu Zhipeng.

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

The Patriarch's will was full of questions, but more than that, it held an approval rooted in survival and evolution. He did not understand "glory," "hope," "destiny," or "beauty," but he understood the results those concepts produced.

[Your 'teachings' have made my children stronger, tougher, smarter, and more... 'vigorous.']

[This 'vigor' will benefit the future 'merging.']

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

Liu Zhipeng calmly accepted the scrutiny of that will. Through his own mind, he sent a simple, clear message back to this xenos Patriarch who had lived for centuries.

[I merely let them experience the true splendor of 'ascension' ahead of time.][I taught them to welcome that great 'feast' with their own hands.]

The exchange lasted only an instant.

Yet its outcome decided everyone's fate.

The Patriarch's enormous alien head gave a slight nod. The movement was almost imperceptible, but its meaning thundered through the Broodmind network.

He had accepted Liu Zhipeng.

Then the Patriarch withdrew his psychic link with Vaughn. The immense will that had sustained Vaughn while simultaneously tearing him apart vanished in an instant.

Vaughn collapsed like a balloon with all its air sucked out. After undergoing extreme expansion and tearing, his mind was abruptly emptied, and utterly, irreversibly... shattered. He foamed at the mouth, his eyes rolled back, and meaningless "gurgling" sounds rose from his throat, like a broken doll.

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

Then the Patriarch raised his blade-like forelimb. The claw, sharp enough to slice through alloy armor, slowly pointed at Vaughn's crumpled body before turning toward Liu Zhipeng in an unmistakable gesture.

Deposition.

Appointment.

The entire process embodied the cold, efficient logic peculiar to alien creatures.

Bishop Kaz was the first to react. His warrior's instincts told him at once what had happened. He stepped forward, dropped to one knee, laid his enormous cutting claws across his chest, and bowed his proud head to Liu Zhipeng.

"The Patriarch's will is made manifest through you." For the first time, Kaz's voice carried fervent reverence. "We shall obey your teachings, great... High Priest."

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

"For strength and blood!" "For endurance 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 shaft. He looked at the remnant of the old era at his feet, now nothing but an empty shell, then at the alien Patriarch on the throne who had granted his approval. Finally, he turned his gaze to those swearing allegiance to him-the future overthrowers of this world.

He drew a deep breath of the scorching, sulfur-laden air, then broke into a radiant smile.

"Rise, brothers and sisters."

"Our cause has only just begun."

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

"We will become a blade! A blade that strikes first, offering this world to our god as a sacrifice!"

"We will set Viridia's skies ablaze!"

After Liu Zhipeng formally became the cult's "High Priest," a sweeping organizational transformation began from the top down.

He abolished the old, bloated, inefficient management structure and established an entirely new, militarized organization centered on the "Four Gods' Halls."

Bishop Kaz's "Hall of Strength" was formally renamed the "Fury Chapter," becoming the cult's armed core. They were responsible for all military operations, from collecting and modifying weapons to training followers in combat and spearheading assaults in the coming uprising. Their creed was simple and pure: pave the road to welcome their god with the skulls of their enemies.

"Rot Mother" Grotch's "Hall of Endurance" was reorganized into the "Hand of the Plague Father," becoming the cult's logistics and support department. They were responsible for everyone's food, clothing, shelter, and transportation, the treatment of the sick and wounded, and... the development of biological weapons. They began cultivating all manner of "interesting" viruses and bacteria in the mines' wastewater and ventilation systems, preparing to deliver a lavish gift filled with "love" to the nobles of the upper world on the "Day of Ascension."

The technician "Spiral's" "Hall of Change" became the "Eye of Change," the cult's intelligence and sabotage agency. Like ghosts, they infiltrated every corner of Viridia. They intercepted the planetary defense forces' communications, falsified the Adeptus Mechanicus's production data, and spread heretical ideas in the Ecclesiarchy's churches. They believed that with enough "variables," the final "result" would inevitably lead to the "destiny" they desired.

The artist "Mystic Voice's" "Hall of Pleasure" became the "Perfect Voice," the cult's propaganda and cultural department. They used the wildest forms of art to captivate and recruit new followers. In the lowest levels of the Hive City, they held secret "revelry masses," using deafening industrial noise rock and stimulating hallucinogenic incense to turn the Ecclesiarchy's followers into fanatical devotees of the "Four-Armed Emperor." Their slogan was: if salvation could not be made magnificent, then salvation itself was meaningless!

Liu Zhipeng sat high atop this madly churning war machine. He no longer needed to handle everything himself. He only had to set its overall course, then watch these four efficient departments execute his will flawlessly in a manner steeped in Chaos.