Chapter 152 Star Torch
"So you know about the greenskins." Morse said, changing back into the black robe he wore most often. "Then why should I rely on conventional interstellar travel methods to take a ship and bring you samples all the way from Inwit?"
His canned green-skinned potted plants were placed on the table next to the canvas. Some little green skins clung to the glass jars in a daze, swaying drowsily. This was caused by Morse punching a psychic vibration through the bottle wall.
"You didn't ask me." The emperor, wearing a linen robe, closed his eyes and remained calm. "You haven't been interested in worldly affairs for too long."
"It seems that I am ignorant." Morse stood further away and observed his canvas. Then he took off the drawing board and laid it flat on the table. "What do you think of these things?"
"Alien," the Emperor answered in one word.
“Don’t emphasize your human supremacy in discussions of scientific and technological issues, my human Emperor.”
The Emperor bowed his head slightly and thought for a moment: “Their technological level is just It will grow out of thin air as it is rooted deep in the individual consciousness of this race, and it has insights beyond human cognition for many technologies, but this also makes it difficult for humans to utilize green-skin technology."
"Because. Humans don't dare to use technology with unknown principles?" Morse asked, "They don't use it less. There are too many examples of experiments ahead of theory."
"No," the emperor said, "Green. Leather technology is closely related to the race itself. After losing its power similar to the psychic aura, their technology will quickly lose its value to humans-so Rogal Dorn was right to burn the orcs. Good choice, Morse”
Morse took out two new pens and knocked down the green glass jar at the same time. The green stuff inside was jumping up and down on the inner wall of the glass jar in vain.
"Okay, okay." As the painting was almost finished, Morse decided to get to the point. "I am thinking about some issues related to the core essence of imperial truth."
Morse dipped some white paint on a brush and tapped it evenly on the barrel of another pen. Until the white highlights sprinkled from the brush regularly fill the entire dark painting.
Across from him, the Emperor asked nonchalantly: "What's the problem?"
"Look." Morse put down the brush and put the flat drawing board back on the easel. Showing the deep dark starry sky he painted and the eye-catching blazing sun at the center of the dark blue universe.
"This is the brilliance seen by the navigator's third eye, the immortal star to be found in countless nebulae of light and dark. Spanning a terrifying distance of seventy thousand light years, passing through the warp star gates and man-made channels of our dark age At the limit of the distance it can reach, this bright light across the Milky Way still hangs high on the back of day and night, allowing the pilot to map the route for the beacon and guide the way forward for mankind."
"Yes. The emperor said, somewhat confused, "How does this relate to Imperial Truth?"
"In Imperial Truth, you wrote: 'The universe is rational, and in the same Terran and Human Empires, there is no Souls, sorcery, and gods.'"
"Do you expect me to admit that this is a lie, Morse?" The Emperor's reply, although not violent, was far from sincere.
"You know what the truth of the empire is, my emperor." Morse stretched out his hand to hold the picture frame, and the stars in the picture began to flash in a fixed number of frames, "A spirit of intentionality Reliance, a method consistent with demagogues and popes, destroys religion through the language of religion, and uses ignorance as an anesthetic to destroy religion, and use ignorance as an anesthetic. ”
"Imperial Truth is at work," the Emperor said. "If people discover that the construction of the Star Torch is nothing more than a ruse in the name of restoring ancient technology, and that its function is only to help you complete your psychic focus, your truth will not continue to work."
The psychic radiance in the painting became brighter, and a golden human figure holding a sword with a sky eagle and a flaming eagle claw carved on the shoulder armor emerged from the white light.
"No human being - no one, not even the Primarch, will believe that the one who can single-handedly hold up the entire galaxy is not among the gods." Maul. Si Fang spoke softly, "What you have done has long been in line with the definition of gods in common sense."
"If they discover this," the emperor tilted his head slightly, his eyes becoming more distant and profound. , "They will still panic, because if one day I am disabled or die, the turmoil of the Star Torch will bring about a new era of strife."
"At the same time, this will also cause great consumption to you." As the light of the star torch in the picture expands, the color of the Emperor in Golden Armor becomes lighter, like a figure made of embers remaining after burning, always affected by the slightest wave. Brokenness occurs.
"The expedition beyond Terra can also support the burning of the star torch across the galaxy. What a powerful force!" His tone suddenly changed, "Is there really no day that is exhausted?"
< br>The Emperor avoided Morse's gaze.
"You have guessed it." He used the shortest answer to cover up his reluctance and awkwardness. "You have the answer in your heart."
"The Webway," Morse said. "Retiring the Star Torch in favor of a new network, allowing better roads to reconnect the entire empire, naturally sweeping the Star Torch and the secrets behind it into the dusty scrap heap."
"Very accurate," the Emperor said, "It's your analytical style."
"Isn't it because your analysis is so accurate?" Morse shook his head, took his hands off the frame, and painted Returning to the normal still picture, "Currently, the fleets of Perturabo and Rogal Dorn have set sail. Before the next accident happens, we all have time to take a look at the Webway, right?"
"This is the ultimate purpose of your return, Morse." The Emperor stood up and found his gray sandals. He didn't always wear gold.
“Another original purpose was to meet your second Primarch. I can guess that you returned to Terra to get him to swear an oath in the Tower of Astartes. It seems that I didn’t rush "When he is present." Morse said, "His name?" >
"I hope I have a chance to meet him in the future." Morse nodded, picked up the green can in his hand, and turned the wall of the bottle into opaque black.
Considering the bad history of throwing things away from the Imperial Palace, he did not want an unexpected fungal leak to occur in the Imperial Palace during his short absence.
Malcador was busy enough working for the Emperor. He now began to suspect that the regent of the Laurel Crown Empire, whose soul was extremely young, took on the appearance of a skinny old man in the real universe just to allow humans to exert their natural respect. Love the young, be kind to him according to your conscience, and avoid causing more trouble.
(End of this chapter)