Chapter Eighty-One: Merse’s Industrialization

“Sister?” Edwina listened to Wang Ming’s words, feeling utterly bewildered. She was merely an unremarkable, law-abiding immortal, someone who had survived in this despairing universe for thirty thousand years as an orphan. How could she possibly be connected to the Emperor? In all these millennia, she had lived under the identity of a parentless child.

She had never seen her parents. Since being abandoned at the gates of the orphanage in 2015, she had spent her life among people with whom she shared no blood ties, and so it had continued for over thirty thousand years. Most of the time, she was alone. The eternal life of an immortal was far too long compared to the fleeting existence of mortals. Once she discovered her true nature, Edwina consciously avoided forming bonds with mortals, unwilling to leave regret or painful memories in her heart. The thought of meeting her own kin had never crossed her mind.

She believed her immortality was a mere accident of fate and had never even considered seeking her parents. Yet today, Wang Ming’s words had left her completely stunned. The gene-primarch before her addressed her as “sister,” and claimed that, genetically, she was indeed his “elder sister.”

Edwina’s mind, honed over thirty millennia, raced as she quickly pieced together Wang Ming’s meaning. The gene-primarch before her was the Emperor’s offspring, his genes derived from the Emperor himself. If he called her his genetic “sister,” then she too must be the Emperor’s child.

“By the Divine Emperor…” Edwina stared at Wang Ming, muttering in shock.

“Edwina, you’ve finally found your father,” she said to herself. She had never dreamed of finding her family, always assuming her parents had long since been buried in some forgotten grave on Terra.

“Then… why are you looking for me? I can’t believe you came here just to reunite me with our father.” After the initial excitement of finding a relative, Edwina’s suspicions surfaced. She doubted that Wang Ming had sought her out purely for a family reunion.

“The Emperor sent me to find you,” Wang Ming replied, telling her of the mission he had received to seek her out on Mors. “He wants me to bring you with me. He said having you by my side would be helpful,” Wang Ming continued, withholding nothing as he relayed the Emperor’s words.

“Well, if the Divine Emperor himself ordered you to find me, then I suppose I have no way to escape. I know well the terror of the Astartes and the gene-primarchs; I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” With resignation, Edwina listened to Wang Ming, then found a corner of the room and crouched down. She had already accepted her fate; in truth, from the moment she saw Wang Ming, she knew her days of peace were over.

Having settled matters with Edwina, Wang Ming turned his attention to the “inquisitor” lying on the floor, bound hand and foot.

“You’re an immortal as well.” Wang Ming regarded Kloyas Reingar, who was feigning unconsciousness with his head lowered, lifted him up, and stared into his violet eyes.

“A Cadian?” Wang Ming asked curiously, noting the man’s unusual eyes.

“Yes, sir, I am a Cadian,” Kloyas Reingar answered.

“Why were you after Edwina?” Wang Ming pressed, wanting to know why this man had impersonated an inquisitor to capture her.

“She is a ‘Child of the Stars.’ We hoped to use her to heal the Emperor.” Kloyas Reingar looked at Wang Ming and revealed his motive for abducting Edwina.

“We?” Wang Ming asked.

“The inquisitors of my faction,” Kloyas Reingar replied truthfully.

“Lock him up for now. We’ll bring him to the Antarctic Grand Hotel and question him later.” Wang Ming couldn’t discern whether the man’s story was true or false. Either way, as an immortal, he was impossible to kill. For now, it was better to imprison him and take him to the Inquisitorial Antarctic Grand Hotel for further examination.

“I really am an inquisitor, my lord primarch! You can’t imprison me—I still have a mission!” Ignoring Kloyas Reingar’s protests, Wang Lei struck him with an adamantium brick to the back of the head, then dragged him away.

With the Emperor’s mission complete, the transmigrators had begun their grand undertaking on Mors. Utilizing the STC templates and the formidable physiques of the Astartes, the transmigrators established factories across the wastelands and hive cities of Mors, recruiting workers and commencing production.

The weapons and armor manufactured would be loaded onto transport ships and, via Guilliman’s newly established logistics division, distributed to the various Indomitable Expedition Fleets. Beyond routine production, the First Engineer Company tirelessly conducted experiments with weapon modifications in the wilds. The veteran engineers, having shed their power armor for work clothes, spent their days building factories or tinkering with weapons.

They even developed a mech suit that could be piloted by ordinary humans—a three-meter-tall machine with impressive combat capabilities, its armaments allowing a mortal to stand toe-to-toe with an Astartes. However, due to the transmigrators’ inability to master neural interfaces, the mech’s reaction speed was extremely poor.

Its response time met only the standards of an average human; by contrast, an Astartes’ neural reflexes operated on a nanosecond scale. No matter how powerful the mech, it simply couldn’t keep up with an Astartes in battle and would be overwhelmed before it could react.

Thirty of these experimental mechs were produced and assigned to the Primarch’s personal guard. When deployed to neighboring worlds for combat, their performance data would be collected.

Industrialization on Mors proceeded rapidly. In just ten months, the transmigrators covered the planet’s surface with factories and artificial crop cultivation facilities, transforming Mors from a hive world into an industrial powerhouse.

This was likely the first Imperial industrial world not under the control of the Mechanicus; only a few Tech-Priests managed and calibrated the machinery, while the majority of maintenance and adjustments were handled by the transmigrators themselves.

Thanks to the Astartes’ prodigious memory and learning speed, the transmigrators studied mechanical engineering and management day and night. As a result, every factory on Mors was orderly and efficient.

Furthermore, the transmigrators deliberately trained mortal administrators. They could not oversee the factories forever; once industrialization and defensive efforts were complete, they would depart for other worlds to battle Chaos.

In time, these factories would be left in the hands of mortal managers. Over this period, the transmigrators would train mortals to take over, ensuring that, once they left, the factories’ productivity would remain at its peak.