Chapter 112: The World of Gobei

The fleet of the "Star Travelers" entered the Warp, setting a course for the Punek system, where the planet Gobe awaited. There is little to say of Warp travel; let us instead turn our attention to the situation on the surface of Gobe.

Gobe is an Imperial Feral World with a surface area of 617 million square kilometers. However, one should not place too much faith in the classifications of the Administratum. In reality, the human civilization on Gobe has reached a level roughly equivalent to the European Middle Ages—perhaps even slightly more advanced, fitting the criteria of a Feudal World.

The environment of Gobe is grueling. Rocks and forests blanket the surface, inhabited by "small animals" with a remarkably "hospitable" nature—creatures that spend every waking moment plotting to open the skulls of their armored human friends. To protect themselves, the local humans have constructed massive castles and fortresses, guarded by powerful knightly orders. Yet, in the more remote mountainous regions and deep jungles, primitive tribes still roam, clad in animal skins and wielding stone tools.

Were it not for the harsh living conditions, Gobe would be a beautiful world; after all, who could fail to love green mountains, clear waters, and blue skies? It is simply that the "cute little animals" are constantly trying to kill you, making the natural environment rather perilous.

But the Gobe of today has lost the "thriving, vibrant vitality" it once possessed. Now, the land is stalked by the putrid, green daemonic legions of Nurgle and the walking dead. Like a tide of filth, they devour the human fortresses of Gobe one by one. The remaining strongholds are like small boats in a storm, on the verge of being swallowed by the surging plague army at any moment. Even the sky of Gobe has been stained a sickly green by the overwhelming power of Nurgle.

On the ramparts of one castle, two armored knights stood holding crude bolt-action rifles, looking down at seven bound cultists. Attached to the armor of both knights were palm-sized censers, burning with incense that drifted out in plumes of strange-smelling smoke, slightly dispelling the foul stench that saturated the air.

"Shall we execute all seven of these wretches?" the knight asked his companion, pressing the muzzle of his rifle against a cultist’s head.

"Yes. These seven are the leaders of the monsters outside the walls. By the grace of the 'Great One' (the local name for the Emperor), these creatures that appeared so suddenly are like demons from hell, bringing only death and plague!" His companion nodded, sighing as he looked out at the Nurglite walking corpses beyond the walls.

Just months ago, these monsters radiating the stench of decay had suddenly appeared at every castle and fortress. Countless civilians and soldiers were infected by the plagues they carried, transforming into similar horrors before joining the assault against their own kin.

The knight looked up at the green sky and adjusted his censer, pulling it closer to his face to better mask the rot. "Let’s get this over with. The incense won't last long, and the stench outside is becoming unbearable."

His companion dragged a Nurgle cultist to the edge of the ramparts and pressed his rifle against the creature's head, where jagged horns had already begun to sprout. From the edge, the surging tide of Nurglite corpses was clearly visible below, their grotesque forms sickening to behold.

"Hurry up. Looking at those things below is making me nauseous."

The knight dragged another cultist over, and his companion nodded. Together, they hauled the remaining captives to the edge of the platform, intending for the bodies to fall directly into the mass of corpses below upon execution. With the prisoners positioned, each knight chose a target.

Pressing their muzzles against the cultists' skulls, they pulled the triggers. Crude barrels spat out lethal rounds, tearing through the heads of the believers. The corpses tumbled over the edge, dropping into the throng of walking dead below. The knights worked with fluid, practiced movements—racking the bolts, ejecting the casings, chambering new rounds, and aiming at the next pair of captives.

"It matters not. All is part of the cycle of life; we shall meet again in the Grandfather’s garden," the final cultist whispered.

The knights exchanged confused glances. What garden? Who was this "Grandfather"?

The last cultist was executed, but as his body hit the ground, a cloud of sickly green mist erupted from within the crowd of corpses. A strange, eerie chanting arose from the walking dead, their twisted voices singing of the arrival of Nurgle’s children. Nurlings crawled forth from the green light, scuffling on the ground, seeking to draw attention to their master.

As the mist dissipated, a figure stepped out. He looked at the singing corpses and the Nurlings playing at his feet with undisguised disgust. This was Li Yongkang, inadvertently summoned by the two knights.

With Li Yongkang’s arrival, every mortal within the castle suddenly felt a sense of wrongness. An insufferable itching began to plague their bodies. They clawed at their skin, but no matter how they tore at their own flesh, the sensation only intensified, turning from maddening itch to agonizing pain. Terrible screams echoed throughout the castle.

"Sorry. This is the last time. I won't have to see things like this for much longer," Li Yongkang muttered, kicking a Nurling aside. He walked to the heavy gate of the castle and placed his hand upon it. Under his touch, the thick metal began to corrode, melting into a pool of putrid black sludge.

Stepping through the rot, Li Yongkang entered the castle. Everywhere he looked, the mortals had been corrupted by the virus he carried, turning them into mindless, plague-ridden husks. Yet, there were a few stragglers. Before him stood a knight, his body oozing pus, swaying as he raised his rifle to fire at Li Yongkang. The knight forced his decaying finger onto the trigger, struggling to pull it.

*Snap.*

A rotted finger fell from the knight's hand, dissolving into a puddle of pus upon the floor. His body had completely succumbed to decay. Ultimately, the knight could not pull the trigger. He collapsed, his body wasting away, yet his willpower remained fierce; he stared at Li Yongkang with eyes that were already bulging from their sockets.

Li Yongkang met the knight’s gaze, approached him, picked up the fallen rifle, and aimed it at his own head. To the knight's astonishment, Li Yongkang pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through his brain and embedded itself in the wall behind him.

"Useless..."

Li Yongkang dropped the gun. Upon his contact, the metal structure began to rust instantly, and the wooden stock dissolved into black sludge. The knight watched in terror as the bullet hole in Li Yongkang’s head slowly healed. Through the wound, he caught a glimpse of what lay beneath the skin—Li Yongkang was a loathsome thing merely wearing the shape of a man.

"By the Emperor, rest in peace." Li Yongkang looked at the terrified knight and placed a hand on his head. In an instant, the knight’s head, along with his helmet, collapsed into a mass of corruption.

Li Yongkang shook his head, ignoring the rest of the knight’s decaying remains, and headed deeper into the castle. He only needed to wait for that man to arrive on Gobe—the one whose power would finally grant him release. He reached the highest point of the castle, evidently the quarters of a nobleman. The opulent room, filled with gold and gemstone ornaments, spoke of its owner’s status, though now it was occupied only by a plague-ridden corpse in fine clothing, wandering aimlessly.

"How extravagant," Li Yongkang remarked, glancing at the gaudy decorations. He tossed the plague corpse out of the room, finding it an eyesore. He then settled in, listening to the twisted songs of the Nurglite corpses while admiring the art, silently awaiting the man's arrival.

At the Mandeville point of the Punek system, the "Star Travelers" fleet emerged from the Warp into realspace, engaging sub-light engines to advance toward Gobe.

"This is supposed to be a Feudal World, right?" In the office aboard the *Imperial Truth*, Wang Ming examined the data on Gobe, looking at Captain Jiang Tao with confusion.

"According to the Imperial data you provided, the efficiency of the Administratum is appallingly low, and their statistical errors are staggering. It wouldn't be impossible for them to misclassify a world," Captain Jiang Tao replied after analyzing the information. "Or perhaps that is simply their definition of a Feral World. Based on the files, I have reclassified Gobe as a Feudal World."

"Fine. Medieval armor and castles, yet they have WWI-era firearms. Strange," Wang Ming set the documents down and stood up. "Captain Jiang, please organize these files; I will need them shortly."

"Understood."

Wang Ming left the office and headed for the hangar, which the Travelers had converted into a grand assembly square. Six regiments were waiting. The Astartes stood in perfect formation, resembling a legion preparing for the Great Crusade.

"Brothers, we are about to reach Gobe. It is a world where human civilization is equivalent to the European Middle Ages." Wang Ming used a remote to project the Administratum's data onto the massive holographic screen. He needed to ensure the Travelers understood the situation—though, thanks to Captain Jiang’s adjustments, it was now correctly labeled as a Feudal World.

The commoners of a Feudal World usually remain unaware of the Imperium's existence; only the nobility and planetary governors have contact with it. This was dangerous. The superstitious nature of such societies made them highly susceptible to the influence of Chaos cults or demons, which could lead to disastrous outcomes.

"Also, brothers, new equipment has arrived." After briefing them on the situation, Wang Ming produced the 6,000 phase swords he had acquired from the Trazyn the Infinite. He had forgotten to distribute them due to recent events, leaving them to gather dust in the warehouse until Xu Zheng had asked to study Necron technology.

It was worth noting that Hu Jin was the first to receive a phase sword. Back when Wang Ming had smashed Abdullahi against the Blackstone Pylon, he had "accidentally" picked up Abdullahi’s C'tan phase sword and tossed it to Hu Jin. Hu Jin, however, dared not use it in combat, fearing he might lose it, so he had hung it on his wall like a prized relic.

Phase swords were impossible for Wang Ming to replicate; the system shop contained only human technology, not xenos artifacts. If these were lost, they were gone for good. He had already given a few to the First Engineering Company, and they were currently working day and night with the Tech-Priests, hoping to reverse-engineer them.

The warm, mundane daily routine had ended; cruelty and despair were the true themes of this universe. In the end, there would always be an outsider who would die a stranger among the desperate stars.