Chapter Forty-One: Preparing for the Terra Expedition

Among all the transmigrators, the only one who worshipped the Emperor in a somewhat conventional manner was the one who stood atop Crysus, taunting demons with the "Imperial Aphorisms." He was considered normal simply because he at least used the "Imperial Aphorisms" for his prayers—though the man did so with a microphone and speakers.

An hour later, the transmigrators assigned to the mess hall used the ship’s broadcast system to announce that dinner was ready for both transmigrators and mortal navy personnel.

“It seems ant-bull meat isn’t so easy to handle after all…” Wang Ming and the others stared at the great basin of Gollock meat before them, realizing that even the culinary prowess of New Eastern chefs could not conquer ant-bull meat.

But just as they resigned themselves to this, the chef transmigrator suddenly placed a container of refined adamantium on the table, inside which lay a lump of something dark and indistinct.

Wang Ming and his companions eyed the item with bafflement—what was this strange, black mass? Was it edible?

“What is this, exactly?” Wang Ming was the first to ask the chef transmigrator.

“Ant-bull meat, boss,” the chef replied, slicing off a small piece of the blackened meat and dropping it into Wang Ming’s bowl.

Wang Ming looked at the charred ant-bull meat in his bowl and hesitantly took a bite.

The taste was dreadful—the meat had been completely carbonized, and a burnt flavor exploded in his mouth. Relying on his gene-primarch’s formidable constitution, Wang Ming forced himself to swallow it.

“Is it any good?” the chef transmigrator asked earnestly, watching Wang Ming eat the ant-bull meat. After all, this piece had been subjected to his special treatment, and he was confident it was “edible”—having used a low-power micro plasma gun.

Wang Ming nodded, indicating the taste was excellent, and gestured for the chef to try a piece himself.

Seeing Wang Ming swallow the meat, the chef transmigrator took a piece and put it into his own mouth. But as soon as he swallowed, his pre-fabricated stomach and oolith kidneys sprang into action.

“It certainly is ‘edible’…” the chef transmigrator muttered as he quietly removed the ant-bull meat.

After finishing their first meal in this universe, the transmigrators began preparations for their journey to Holy Terra.

In their quarters, the transmigrators tended to their bolt guns and power swords, making personalized modifications to their power armor and weapons. For example, Wang Xiaofa, commander of the first cohort, added unique features to his armor, which was originally styled after Wang Ming’s. Using adamantium and the tools aboard the "Imperial Truth," he crafted a set of armor reminiscent of ancient Huaxia lamellar, affixing it over his power armor as extra protection. Now, he resembled an ancient Huaxia warrior.

All the transmigrators painted their legion insignia onto the right pauldron of their power armor, coloring the entire shoulder red with a golden Imperial Aquila emblazoned at the center.

After a collective meeting of over two thousand transmigrators, they settled on the name for their legion: "The Starbound Transmigrators." Their banner was a red flag with a golden Imperial Aquila at its heart.

Preparations aboard the "Imperial Truth" proceeded in an orderly fashion, thanks to the ship’s automated systems. Nanorobots maintained the warship from hull to circuitry, keeping everything pristine as if it had just left the shipyard.

Ammunition for shipboard weapons was loaded by automated systems from the magazines directly into the armaments, while Imperial Navy crew checked the status at their control panels.

Beside each weapon platform, the tech-priests of the Mechanicum clustered, wielding incense and great bells, performing rituals of prayer for the lance batteries and macro-cannons.

Most of the "Imperial Truth’s" systems were automated, leaving little need for manual operation. However, without artificial intelligence, some formerly automated functions now required human intervention.

The most notable example was the mess hall. Previously, AI could tailor meals to each crew member’s preferences, nutritional needs, and physical condition. Now, all food service had to be done manually.

“How much longer?” Wang Ming sat in the command room, occupying the specially designed primarch’s seat, and asked Leandro Ferreira, acting captain of the "Imperial Truth."

“Great Primarch, the 'Imperial Truth' is ready. We await only Lord Guilliman’s fleet to assemble; then we may depart,” Leandro Ferreira replied with reverent formality.

Time ticked away, and as Guilliman’s fleet gradually gathered, the Terra expedition finally began.

[Gellar field engaged. Warp drive status optimal. All crew, prepare for warp transit. External observation ports closing.]

With the procedural announcement, all observation ports shut, the Gellar field activated, and the warp engines at the prow tore open a rift to the Warp. The "Imperial Truth" slowly sailed into the treacherous tides of the Immaterium.

For the transmigrators, this was their first true encounter with the most perilous place in the 40k universe—the Warp, known as the Empyrean, the non-material cosmos, home to malevolent gods and dread demons.

Wang Ming suddenly remembered a comment he’d seen on Bilibili before crossing over—a discussion among starship captains from various sci-fi universes about their methods of travel.

Star Trek: “We use warp speed.”
Stellaris: “We traverse hyperlanes.”
Halo: “We ride slipspace streams.”
Warhammer: “We pass through hell.”

“We really are passing through hell now,” Wang Ming sighed.