The Emperor betrayed the oath he made with blood and swore with his soul.
The reckoning, long planned by the Four Gods of Chaos, finally arrived. A storm of swirling colors engulfed the laboratory.
Every incubation pod was sucked into the warp vortex, flung toward its destined planet.
Ning Lu's eyes snapped open, and he thought to himself:
[This is the first step to changing fate. Now let's see if my cheat is actually useful.]
The Warp is also known as the Sea of Souls, the Immaterium, the Higher Realm, or the Realm of Chaos. Different cultures have different names for it.
The Sea of Souls is made of pure energy. Like a mirror to the material world, it is shaped by the emotions and souls of all sentient beings.
As Ning Lu opened his eyes, a powerful belief exploded from within him:
[My fate is mine to decide. Not the Four Peddlers, not Old Man Huang.]
[I'm going to the Misted Starfield, to the primary planet of the Vostroya system—Vostroya itself!]]
Black mist rose and wrapped around him. His intense will pushed the mist to spin faster, and the multicolored vortex began to drift off its intended course.
Tzeentch, the "Weaver of Destinies," was the first to notice the shift in the strands of destiny. The eleventh Primarch's pod had broken away from the vortex and was no longer falling toward its assigned world.
"Change… It's all part of the plan…"
The other three gods also noticed the strange anomaly. They watched the scene with interest until the black mist vanished.
Ning Lu waited anxiously. Even though he had been chosen by the "Nation of Disorder," he knew the power of Sefirot was limited by one's rank in the sequence.
In the real world, the Nation of Disorder couldn't help him much.
But here in the Warp, emotions and belief were the strongest forces of all.
With sheer will, Ning Lu tapped into the power of the Nation of Disorder.
Even though Sefirot status was lower than the Four Gods, it was still close to their level.
If they worked together, maybe they could change which planet he landed on—that was the first step in changing his fate!
While the other Primarchs' pods were still drifting across the Sea of Souls, the eleventh pod shot out of the Higher Realm like an arrow.
It fell rapidly, and through the blinding smoke caused by friction with the industrial atmosphere, Ning Lu caught a glimpse of the hive city breaking through the toxic clouds. He felt a little more at ease.
Then, the pod crashed into a thick, sludge-like river.
The silver-gray shell trembled violently. The glass panel shattered.
Inside, Ning Lu stood steadily. He quickly stretched out his right hand and caught a silver-gray shard the size of a grown man's palm and two fingers wide.
The swirling sludge didn't affect his senses at all. He noticed there were no signs of animals or plants in the river or along its banks, and he smelled a heavy acidic stench in the air.
His head spun for a second, but he recovered quickly.
As the pod's spin slowed, Ning Lu's mind calculated the timing precisely. Right before it could slam into the riverbank and bounce off, he leaped out.
He bent his knees slightly and landed without trouble.
Ning Lu stood, glanced at the hive city through the swirling industrial dust, then began walking in that direction.
On the outskirts of the hive city, in the shantytown, long-term exposure to the unprotected environment had caused all kinds of physical mutations.
Many lower hive dwellers also lived in the slums. The foul, polluted water made for relatively fertile farmland and a good harvest of fungi.
The first to notice the newcomer was a man with a rock-like tumor growing from his neck.
He immediately realized the boy didn't belong here. His skin was a healthy, natural yellow, smooth and glowing, like a sculpture crafted by an artist.
His long black hair flowed in the wind. His eyes were dark as ink, deep as a still pool, and his nose was straight and prominent.
He looked like a four- or five-year-old boy, but his sharp features carried a natural air of authority that made it hard to look him in the eye.
The mutant looked away in shame and fear—but then a flicker of greed crossed his gaze.
A boy like this could be sold for a lot of money. Many bigshots in the upper hive enjoyed playing with soft, delicate children like him.
Once that thought took hold, he couldn't let it go.
He dropped the fungi he'd picked and lunged at the boy. A few other mutants had the same idea and moved in too.
But the boy didn't run.
He dodged a swinging club, and the silver-gray shard in his hand sliced open the first mutant's thigh.
As the screams rang out, every mutant in the slums turned toward the boy, then all rushed him in a frenzy.
Ning Lu weaved through the mob, untouched.
At first, the mutants thought they were missing because the boy was small. They all crouched down into their usual mushroom-picking, scavenging, or ambushing postures—familiar stances for street fights.
But they still missed. The boy moved like he could predict every attack: a side stab, a thrown pipe to the back of his head—nothing landed.
He never even turned around, like he had eyes in the back of his head.
An hour later, the slums were quiet. A dozen mutants lay sprawled on the ground, each with severed legs, unable to move.
Ning Lu scanned the area, then pulled the cleanest and most intact piece of clothing from one of the fallen, cut it to fit, and put it on.
He walked up to the man with the tumor, gave him a kick, then opened his mouth and pointed to the iron pipe on the ground.
The mutant stared in horror. After a few seconds, he realized the boy was asking for the word. He quickly opened his mouth to speak.
Ning Lu's enhanced brain picked up the local Low Gothic at an astonishing speed. It was a localized dialect of ancient Terran Slavic.
Five hours later, he had picked up the basics of the language.
He looked at the remaining conscious mutants and asked in fluent Low Gothic:
"This world—is it Vostroya ?"
All the mutants nodded at once, terrified they'd end up like the corpses nearby if they hesitated.
He pointed at the hive city. "That hive—Tetzvok?"
Again, the mutants all nodded quickly.
Ning Lu stepped forward and ended their suffering. These witnesses, who saw him arrive from the wastelands, could cause trouble later.
He knew that after Vostroya pledged loyalty to Mars during the "Age of Discord," tech and knowledge had flooded in, and the planet had rapidly developed into a highly industrialized world.
Locally made weapons were excellent—especially their famous laser guns. In the future, Vostroya 's Firstborn Regiment would rank among the top ten in the Imperial Guard.
Vostroya was ruled by a dual system: nobles and the Adeptus Mechanicus. The tech-priests' weapons could still pose a serious threat to him in his current stage.
Ning Lu found a relatively clean black backpack—though even by under hive standards, it was still filthy.
He stuffed it with fungi and added a spare set of tattered clothes for later.
Then he headed toward the hive city. Earlier, he had checked the Blasphemy Slate: the potion ingredients for the "Lawyer" were all glowing.
The hive city would have everything he needed.