Chapter 152 Star Torch

"So you know about the greenskins," Morse said, changing back into his most common black robe. "Then why did I rely on conventional interstellar travel to bring you samples all the way from Invit?"

His potted greenskin plants were placed on the table next to the canvas, some of the little greens were dizzy and sticking to the glass jars, swaying drowsily. This was caused by a psychic vibration that Morse injected through the bottle wall.

"You didn't ask me." The Emperor was wearing a linen robe, closing his eyes, and was calm. "You haven't been asking about the world for too long."

"It seems that I am ignorant." Morse stood farther away and observed his canvas. Then he took down the drawing board and laid it flat on the table. "What do you think of these things?"

"Alien." The Emperor answered with a single word.

"Don't emphasize your human supremacy in the discussion of technological issues, my human emperor."

The emperor lowered his head slightly and thought for a while: "Their technological level will grow out of thin air just like it is rooted in the individual consciousness of this race. They have insights beyond human cognition on many technologies, but this also makes it difficult for humans to use green skin technology."

"Because humans dare not use technology whose principles are unknown?" Morse asked, "They have used it a lot, and there are too many examples of experiments ahead of theory."

"No," said the emperor, "Green skin technology is closely related to this race itself. After losing its power similar to psychic aura, their technology will quickly become ineffective and have low value to humans-so Rogal Dorn's behavior of burning orcs is correct. You made a good choice, Morse."

Morse took out two new pens and knocked over the green skin glass jar at the same time. The green skin thing inside was rubbing the inner wall of the glass jar in vain and jumping up and down.

"Okay, okay." The painting was almost finished, and Morse decided to get to the point. "I'm thinking about some questions related to the core of the Imperial Truth."

Morse dipped a little white paint on a brush, placed it on the handle of another pen and tapped it evenly until the white highlights from the brush were regularly spread all over the dark painting.

Across from him, the Emperor asked nonchalantly: "What's the question?"

"Look." Morse put down the brush and put the flat drawing board back on the easel to show the deep and dark starry sky he painted, and the eye-catching blazing sun in the center of the navy blue universe.

"This is the light seen by the navigator's third eye, an immortal star that can be found in countless nebulae of light and darkness. Across the terrifying distance of 70,000 light years, through the limits of the distance that can be reached by the subspace star gates and artificial routes in our dark age, this beam of light across the Milky Way still hangs high on the other side of day and night, allowing navigators to plot routes for beacons in turn and guide the way forward for mankind."

"Yes." The Emperor said, a little confused, "What does this have to do with the Imperial Truth?"

"In the Imperial Truth, you wrote: 'The universe is rational, and in the same Terra and the human empire, there are no souls, witchcraft, and gods.'"

"Do you want me to admit that this is a lie, Morse?" The Emperor's answer was not fierce, but it was far from sincerity.

"You know what the Imperial Truth is, my Emperor." Morse reached out to hold the frame, and the stars in the picture began to flash in a fixed frame rate. "A deliberate spiritual reliance, a method consistent with the demagogues and the Pope, destroying religion through the language of religion, and stereotyping rationalism as a big lie of religious dogma. Using ignorance as an anesthetic will only make the foundation of the empire fragile." "The Imperial Truth is working." The Emperor said. "If people find out that the construction of the Star Torch is just a trick in the name of restoring ancient technology, and its role is only to help you complete psychic focus, your truth will not continue to work." The psychic light in the picture is brighter, and a golden human figure holding a sword with a sky eagle and a fire eagle claw carved on the shoulder armor emerges in the white light. "No human being - no one, not even the Primarch, would believe that the Star Torch, who can support the entire galaxy by himself, is not among the gods." Morse lowered his voice, "What you have done has long been in line with the common sense of the definition of gods."

"If they find this out," the Emperor turned his head slightly, his eyes becoming more distant and profound, "they will panic, because if I am disabled or dead one day, the turmoil of the Star Torch will bring a new era of strife."

"At the same time, this will also cause great consumption to you." As the light of the Star Torch in the picture expanded, the color of the Golden Armored Emperor faded, like a human figure made of embers left after burning, which would be broken at any time by the slightest wave.

"Being able to cross the galaxy to support the burning of the Star Torch on an expedition outside Terra, what a powerful force!" His tone suddenly changed, "Is there really no day when it will be exhausted?"

The Emperor avoided Morse's sight.

"You have guessed it." He used the shortest answer to cover up his reluctance and awkwardness. "You already have the answer in your heart."

"Webway." Morse said. "Put away the Astronomican and switch to a new network, so that better roads can reconnect the entire empire, and naturally sweep the Astronomican and the secrets behind it into the dusty waste paper pile."

"Very accurate," said the Emperor, "that's your analytical style."

"Isn't it because your nature is hard to change that I can make an accurate analysis?" Morse shook his head, his hand left the frame, and the painting returned to a normal still picture. "Currently, Perturabo and Rogal Dorn's fleets have both set sail. Before the next accident happens, we all have time to take a look at the Webway, right?"

"This is the ultimate purpose of your return this time, Morse." The Emperor stood up and found his gray sandals. He was not always dressed in gold.

"The original other purpose was to meet your second Primarch. I can guess that you returned to Terra to take him to the Astarte Tower to take the oath. It seems that I didn't catch up with him when he was there." Morse said, "His name?"

"Duncan Aihe." The Emperor said, "A cautious and calm swordsman."

"I hope I will have the opportunity to meet him in the future." Morse nodded, picked up the green can in his hand, and turned the bottle wall into opaque black.

Considering the bad history of losing things in the palace, he did not want to let the Imperial Palace have an unexpected fungal leak during the short time he was away.

Malcador was busy enough working for the Emperor, and he now began to suspect that the Regent of the Laurel Crown Empire, whose soul was in an extremely young state, took the appearance of a skinny old man in the real universe just to let humans exercise their natural respect for the elderly and love for the young, and be kind to him out of conscience and cause less trouble.