I continued to survive five or six days in this state of idleness, feeling that the subspace voyage was about to begin, and I tied myself to my bed, intending to have a long sleep, which would last for ten days, during which I would not only fully recover from the wounds and fatigue left by the last battle, but also the abundant and violent energy there would be fully filled with my spiritual energy because of the relationship of entering the subspace. Actually, the recovery effect is better when I am awake, but the previous subspace voyages have caused me a lot of trauma, and I no longer have the courage to face the endless darkness there.

Think about it every day: The pain caused by bullets and blades is nothing more than a pleasure compared to the crisis of depravity.

I have written sacred runes on every wall of the room, powerful runes that cut out the touch of my heart and protect me from the filthy ghosts of my unreal world. Everyone's soul will form a projection in the subspace, if the projection intensity of ordinary people is a little spark that is about to be extinguished, then a psyker of my strength is a burning torch, and a soul full of power is the delicacy that all xenomorphic creatures in the subspace dream of. To escape the filthy predators, I had to carefully cover up my flames - in fact, there was another way to turn myself into a burning sun like an emperor, and then any xenomorph who dared to approach me would be wiped out...... Emperor above, forgive me for this blasphemous thinking.

I took one last look into the room. I was lying on my back on the bed, and if the side I was facing was above, then Ah Da was hanging upside down on the roof at this time. He seemed to be sleeping, but his two mechanical eyes flashed red from time to time. I knew he was on the alert, and that eight guns would be in combat in a second, burning to ashes the hostile people who had rushed into the room, and that he would be more focused on me, and that the fiery plasma fireballs, hot melt jets, and laser beams would preempt me in the event of a precursor to my depravity. If it was a political commissar who was doing the same task at this time, maybe he would have kindly comforted me: This is for your own good.

This is the normal fate of me, a psyker, as a registered psyker I am lucky to have this kind of encounter, the children who arrived in the Holy Terra on the same black ship as me twenty years ago, but failed to prove their loyalty in the test, must have been transformed into momentary glory as fuel for the Torch of the Stars, in order to maintain the existence of the empire for one more moment.

Think about it every day: Happiness is the illusion of the weak.

I closed my eyes and stopped looking at this world of suffering. By the time I woke up, the ship had already survived the toughest subspace leg and was only ten days away from my regular voyage home.

Home, that's one of those concepts that makes me feel warm in this icy galaxy. It was a planet called Sogen, and in that desolate land, there were no towering buildings, no formulas of steel and concrete, no trenches trembling in the fire, no flashes of lasers, no roar of chainsaws, there was nothing there that symbolized civilization, it was a savage world in the eyes of ordinary imperial people. We use sharpened sticks as weapons that we can throw or make traps to kill animals. Clans were bound together by marriage, and sometimes fought each other for a forested hunting area, and a tough, sharp piece of iron was worth as much as gold and was passed down for generations to come. Mt. Il, located in the hottest of the mountains, which is a sacred place in the hearts of all our tribes, and the origin of the name I now use, every four years, all tribes select their strongest and most cunning warriors, and at the foot of the mountain are held a competitive and hunting tournament, and the champions will be eligible to climb the snow-covered mountain all year round, enter the temple to worship the warriors of the gods, and even have the opportunity to become one of them. Each of them was a height and a half, strong enough to crush the most ferocious beasts, clad in golden armor, and the weapons in their hands could tear through rock and steel. They claim to serve a supreme god, but we can't imagine how a noble god would need such a warrior to protect it, and it is hard to imagine how a ferocious enemy could leave scars on the seemingly indestructible armor of these warriors. The warriors of the gods do not live in the temple all year round, many times they disappear into the sky with the retrograde meteors, and no matter what kind of festival we hold they do, they will not respond to the call until decades or hundreds of years later, and then they will greatly relax the selection rules, even to the point that each tribe will have a chance to send several warriors to the temple. As the son of a god who has shown supernatural abilities since childhood, I have a power far beyond ordinary people, and I am always receiving the heartfelt respect of others. When I was not yet ten years old, I was given the opportunity to walk to the top of the mountain with the champions, and at that time, the warriors of the temple told me that they had made my place in their ranks, and that I would only be old enough to receive the blessings of the gods and become like them, walking in the stars...... However, before that, the black ship came first, and the temple happened to be empty at that time.........

The voyage in the black ship was one of the last memories of my life, and after that, the cold reality completely crushed the traditions and myths of my homeland, and almost shattered my mind. I lost the ability to think, and I was left with the only thing left to keep learning and accepting what I could touch. And when my mind was re-established, I had graduated from the Psionic Academy and been assigned to a regimental headquarters in the Guard. Although everyone was respectful to me on the surface, Lingjue told me of the fear and rejection of me in their hearts, even if it was my commander or the supposedly fearless commissar.

As a psyker, I will be alone for the rest of my life.

I have come to recognize the identity of the so-called Warriors of the Gods, a branch of the Imperial Space Marines, and the smallest and most inconspicuous kind. They have few troops, only Sogan's recruitment world, only a fortress monastery and a small warship, and whenever there is a mission, they have to rush out, and I can't find the name of that wargroup due to permission, in fact, it doesn't mean much to me. There are hundreds of the same warbands in the Empire, most of them are bigger and stronger, and I have even fought alongside some of the strongest of them, such as the Ultramarines and Space Wolves, and have had the privilege of witnessing their overwhelming military might. When we huddle in the trenches and endure enemy fire, thinking that death will come in the next moment, all we can do is look up at the sky and pray, believing that the burning meteor is about to rain down, which is another belief in the commissar's pistol that supports us to persevere.

…………

Maybe it was the runes I wrote down before I went to bed that made a difference, and I wasn't disturbed by any accidents during the entire subspace voyage, and it was unbelievably clean. In my sleep, I remembered many things, including those that I had deliberately forgotten. When I woke up, the ship was already in real space, with no subspace effects left. However, I didn't wake up naturally, and there was a violent vibration from the bed board under me, or rather the wall under the bed, as if someone had smashed the wall. I knew it was the captain's cabin next door, but the captain had never used it in the days leading up to my sleep, and she should have been on the bridge all the time. And now, she seems to be next door, throwing a tantrum.

I rarely snoop on other people's privacy, but now that this situation is disturbing my rest, I have to use my psionic sense to investigate. The tall woman was still wearing the uniform of a straight naval officer, but her face had lost the calmness of an officer, and it became angry. She wielded her power sword indiscriminately, slicing the brass chair in half with one sword and slicing off a corner of the steel table with another. She kicked open the closet, took out a bottle of red wine, lifted her neck and poured half a bottle, and then shook her arm, smashing the bottle against the wall along with the remaining half.

It was the wall where my bed was.

Think about it every day: Patience is an essential virtue unless you are facing an enemy.

But right now, it's really unbearable! That's the precious blood of Pavard! Our legion may not be able to apply for a bottle of ultra-rare special military supplies for several months in a row! Every time I send it down, I can't even get a cup, it's all cheap, the head of the regiment, the bishop, the political commissar, and the quartermaster! Wasting military funds is a strict crime!

I pulled out a blaster from my psionic space and stuffed a bullet into it, intending to kill her for the Commissar of the Navy.