Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Oilman

“Boss, have you noticed something?”
In the corridor of the Imperial Truth, Wang Xiaofa carried several crates of ‘Joy’ soda from the Golden Age, which Wang Ming had fetched from the ‘Marketplace.’ As he walked, he spoke to Wang Ming.
The Imperial Truth was the name the traversers had given to their warship from the Golden Age. Among the Imperial civilians who had glimpsed this colossal vessel, it was also known as the Ship of Hope and the Savior’s Ship.
Whenever this giant ship appeared in the skies above a planet, vast quantities of medical supplies and white-clad Imperial Angels would descend, rescuing the multitudes of the Imperial world.
“What’s the problem?” Wang Ming, carrying a crate of Golden Age food, walked alongside Wang Xiaofa. The metal food box, a meter tall, felt as light as a paper carton in his grasp.
“It’s about how we have so much knowledge of the evil gods in our heads, yet we haven’t been corrupted,” Wang Xiaofa said.
“True, that’s really strange. Even if we say the Emperor is blessing us, he couldn’t possibly shield so many people,” Wang Ming replied, perplexed.
“Boss, is it possible—I’m just saying, possible—that…” Wang Xiaofa wore a peculiar expression.
“What possibility?” Wang Ming asked in confusion.
“Didn’t you say the Emperor injected a fragment of his soul into you?”
Wang Ming had already recounted his encounter with Niels—the Emperor’s avatar—on Cadia to the traversers.
“So, what if we were already corrupted after crossing over? But the one who corrupted us was the Emperor himself,” Wang Xiaofa suggested, voicing his theory.

“Indeed, that might really be the case.”
Wang Ming, hearing this, suddenly recalled the traverser on Crysus who, microphone in hand, recited the Emperor’s Words and was blessed by the Emperor.
As they talked, Wang Ming and Wang Xiaofa walked toward the Imperial Truth’s mess hall.
At the entrance stood a Tech-Priest of the Mechanicum, holding incense and maintenance instruments, performing a maintenance ritual on the Golden Age door’s control panel.
“111010001011010110011110 111001111011111010001110 111001001011100010000111 111001101001110010111010 111001001011100110001011 111001111010010110011110…”
The Tech-Priest intoned binary prayers to soothe the ‘machine spirit’ of the door’s control panel.
Wang Ming ignored the ongoing ritual. Clutching the food crate in one hand, he bypassed the Tech-Priest and directly used the panel to open the door.
“Honored Primarch, I am conducting a maintenance ritual. Your actions may displease the machine spirit.”
The Tech-Priest, interrupted mid-ritual by Wang Ming, was furious, though his words remained respectful due to Wang Ming’s status as a gene-primarch.
Still, the raised volume of his speaker betrayed his anger at Wang Ming for disrupting the ritual.
The era of the gene-primarchs was so distant now that many had forgotten it entirely.
The Imperium was fortunate; most of its people worshipped the Emperor, revering the gene-primarchs as divine offspring.
But the Mechanicum was different. Their faith rested with the Omnissiah, the Machine God, the Prime Motive Force.

Some of them also worshipped the Emperor, but they felt little allegiance to the Imperium.
To the Mechanicum, the Imperium was merely an ally; only the quest for technology truly mattered to them.
During the Beast Wars, when the Ork’s battle moon invaded the solar system, the Martian Mechanicum even considered transforming Mars into a wandering planet to escape.
Moreover, the Mechanicum enjoyed autonomy; they could secede and found their own Machine Empire devoted to the Machine God.
Wang Ming ignored the angry Tech-Priest, taking a bottle of ‘Joy’ soda from Wang Xiaofa and handing it to him.
“These devices don’t need such frequent rituals. The ship’s automated maintenance systems handle everything. Take a break and have something to eat,” Wang Ming said.
Unlike current warships, the Golden Age vessel had its own automated maintenance system, capable of near-perfect monitoring and deploying nanobots for upkeep.
And this process required no artificial intelligence.
The Tech-Priest, hearing Wang Ming’s words, felt a sudden pang of loss. He accepted the ‘Joy’ soda, gathered his ritual tools, and entered the mess hall.
Then he set his sights on the toaster in the mess, and began performing a maintenance ritual on it.