May 30, Imperial Calendar Year 0064, early morning.
The light of the star penetrated the atmosphere of Earth in the main universe, scattering across New Accra—
This super metropolis, built adjacent to the Imperial Palace, had swelled in nearly a century into the largest, most prosperous, and most symbolically significant city on the human homeworld.
The surfaces of the towering architectural complexes, reaching into the clouds, were covered with smart materials capable of dynamically adjusting light transmittance and energy absorption, reflecting a soft and technologically rich, flowing brilliance in the morning light.
On the aerial traffic network, countless streamlined personal aerial vehicles and public hoverbuses quietly and efficiently shuttled along preset flight paths like musical notes following an invisible score.
Parks, green spaces, and ecological domes dotted the gaps in the city's steel forest with vibrant vitality.
Because today was the nationwide celebration of the Emperor's birthday, the vast majority of Imperial citizens enjoying their standard holidays were still enjoying a precious sleep-in, or leisurely preparing for family celebrations.
Therefore, New Accra in the early morning lacked its usual dizzying busyness of running at high speed like a precision instrument, instead possessing a tranquility and anticipation unique to the holiday.
However, this never-resting giant metropolis was not entirely asleep.
The 24-hour entertainment districts and commercial centers remained brightly lit with weaving crowds, as holiday promotions and special celebration activities kicked off early.
More importantly, countless positions safeguarding the city's lifeblood and the smooth operation of the holiday still needed to be manned—energy dispatchers, police patrol teams, public transportation dispatchers, medical emergency personnel, holiday activity logistics support staff, and so on. They still needed to arrive at their posts on time and fulfill their duties.
However, in stark contrast to the deep hatred toward overtime and viewing it as exploitation before the establishment of the Empire, the people in these positions at this moment held little resentment in their hearts, and might even be carrying a sense of anticipation.
The reason was simple...
Working today entitled them to an ultra-high overtime allowance mandated by law, a salary enough to make a regular workday's income pale in comparison.
Secondly, and most importantly, every registered employee working today, regardless of their position's rank, would equally receive that Birthday Gift red envelope from the Emperor, which everyone eagerly looked forward to.
This extra gift, originating directly from the supreme ruler of the Empire, was enough to dilute any minor regrets stemming from working on a holiday.
Under the highly efficient social productive forces and comprehensive welfare guarantees, working hard to obtain generous returns had long become a universal consensus and a virtuous cycle within the Empire.
Of course, the Empire's laws did not only protect employees unilaterally.
For those extremely few opportunists who tried to exploit systemic loopholes, using various excuses to fraudulently obtain paid long leaves or welfare, taking advantage of the Empire and law-abiding enterprises, the Empire had a strict big data monitoring and credit evaluation system.
Once such malicious behavior was verified, the individuals involved would not only face severe punishment and massive fines, but their personal credit records would also be marked with an indelible stain, directly placing them on recruitment blacklists across multiple industries, and their future social welfare levels would be severely affected.
The farces that used to emerge endlessly before the Empire's establishment, such as asking for long leave immediately upon being hired and leaving as soon as the money was taken, had long lost their ground for survival in the face of the Empire's current laws and powerful execution capabilities.
This protected the normal operation of enterprises and maintained the fair rights and interests of hard-working laborers.
As the sun gradually rose higher, the festive atmosphere on the streets also became increasingly profound.
Gold and black flags symbolizing the Empire, along with colorful holographic banners celebrating the Emperor's birthday, were hung on both sides of the main thoroughfares.
On the community squares, staff members were setting up celebration stages and interactive areas.
Many families had already headed out together. Children excitedly held up small Imperial Dragon emblems or Primarch dolls, while adults carried purchased holiday ingredients and gifts, their faces brimming with relaxed and joyful smiles.
The air was permeated with a festivity and tranquility of sharing a prosperous age.
Coming to the downtown area of New Accra, on the top floor of a megastructure skyscraper exceeding a thousand meters in height.
This was a residential area in a prime location for overlooking the city and gazing at the Imperial Palace complex from afar.
Inside a spacious residence with panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows, the morning sunlight was spilling across the soft carpeted living room through smart dimmable glass.
"Mom, I am hungry. Do not cook, how about we go out to eat? Anyway, there is a big meal to eat at noon!"
A clear, young girl's voice carrying a lazy nasal tone from having just woken up rang out in the living room.
The owner of the voice was sitting cross-legged on a large smart fabric sofa. While waking up the hard-light holographic TV on the wall, which was currently broadcasting special holiday programs and morning news, she shouted toward the second-floor open-plan master bedroom.
It was a little girl who looked to be about six or seven years old.
She had smooth, black shoulder-length hair with the tips slightly curving inward, setting off an increasingly delicate little face.
Her facial features inherited the strengths of both parents, and the potential of a beautiful woman could already be seen between her brows and eyes. In particular, her pair of azure eyes were like two pools of clear lake water, lively and intelligent.
Despite her young age, her relaxed and poised sitting posture and the naturally revealing temperament already foretold that she would definitely not be an ordinary existence lost in the crowd in the future.
She was none other than the daughter of Leon S. Kennedy and Ada Wong—
Lynn Kennedy.
As soon as Lynn's voice faded, the door of the second-floor master bedroom opened.
A figure gracefully stepped out and arrived by the railing on the second floor; this was Ada Wong.
Time seemed to have been exceptionally lenient toward this former top agent.
Although her actual age had long surpassed the scope of middle age, thanks to the augmentation surgeries—including genetic optimization and multiple anti-aging treatments—that members of the Imperial Investigation Department had to undergo upon joining and being promoted, she still looked to be in the prime of her charm, akin to an ordinary person in her thirties.
She wore a well-tailored dark green silk cheongsam-style nightgown that perfectly outlined her still slender and upright figure.
Her long black hair was casually tied into a loose bun at the back of her head, with a few strands of hair lazily draping down the side of her neck.
Her face was delicate, having merely faded some of the sharpness from her youth and gained a bit more composure and mystery accumulated over the years. Within her typical mature sister demeanor, she also carried a trace of gentleness belonging to a mother and wife that could only be noticed by those closest to her.
Resting one hand on the railing, she leaned forward slightly to look down at her daughter downstairs, her tone carrying a bit of doting and helplessness: "Since you want to go out to eat, hurry up and go change your clothes. Do not dawdle there watching TV. Move faster, and we can still find a good spot."
"Okay!"
Lynn agreed readily, immediately jumped down from the sofa, and ran toward her own bedroom, not forgetting to shout "Power off" to the holographic TV.
Just as Lynn ran into her room, another slightly disheveled figure swayed out of the master bedroom.
His hair was a bit sticking up from sleeping, his chin still carried some newly sprouted stubble, and his eyes were bleary from sleep, but it still could not conceal that handsome contour belonging to a veteran tough guy.
Leon was also getting on in years, but having likewise received the Imperial Investigation Department's augmentations, he looked like a middle-aged uncle around forty years old...
...whose charm had only increased rather than decreased.
It was just that compared to Ada's seemingly time-frozen state, he carried a bit more of a slightly weathered, relaxed feel, polished by time and experiences.
He walked over to Ada, naturally rested his arm on her shoulder, and sighed half-jokingly with a morning-hoarse voice: "Sigh... getting old... really getting old..."
Ada slightly turned her head, then unceremoniously brushed Leon's arm aside. Her voice was cold, yet revealed a trace of intimacy that only the other party would understand: "Not even half of the Empire's standard lifespan has passed, and your bodily functions are maintained at their peak. What nonsense about getting old? Hurry up and go shave and change clothes, do not dawdle."
""
Leon rubbed his brushed-aside arm, shrugged, and did not argue back. He turned and walked toward the bathroom, humming an unknown tune.
In the living room, the morning light was just right, the TV was silent, and only the rustling sounds of changing clothes and washing up came from upstairs and downstairs, full of the unique warmth and trivialities of an ordinary family on a holiday morning.
This peaceful scene, together with the super metropolis outside that was gradually boiling for the Emperor's celebration, jointly formed an ordinary morning under the rule of the Empire.
Over at the Imperial Palace area, the celebration atmosphere for the Emperor's birthday had reached its peak.
Unlike the spontaneous celebrations of the citizens in the urban areas, the atmosphere here was more solemn and majestic, yet it also contained the harmony and strength of the Empire's inner circle.
The magnificent palace architectural complex towered majestically like a mountain range. Chinese-style spires perfectly blended with futuristic smooth lines, and the golden Imperial Dragon emblem shone brightly in the sunlight.
Along the broad corridor leading to the core celebration square, a Salamander clad in dark green Titan power armor, wielding a power weapon or a bolter, stood solemnly every ten meters. They were like silent magma statues, exuding unshakable fortitude and loyalty, ensuring absolute order and security in this place.
Further inward, on the main pathways and high vantage points leading to the area where the Emperor and core guests were located, the dazzling golden armor of the Custodes acted like a flowing barrier of radiant glory. They stood in silence, serving as the Emperor's closest and most unquestionable shield.
The main events of the celebration were held in the square located on the central axis of the palace complex.
The square's elevation was relatively high, paved with flawless white giant stones, its edges surrounded by exquisite carved colonnades, and statues of the Emperor and the Primarchs towered in the center.
From here, one could overlook the distant New Accra, which was as orderly as a chessboard and incomparably prosperous, offering an excellent view.
At this moment, the most core members of the Empire had already gathered in the square.
Here were distinguished generals with outstanding merits, key ministers of various departments, representatives of important allied races, and the cornerstones of the Empire—
The Primarchs.
Alexia Ashford, head of the Empire's Biology Department, attended in an elegant gown, engaging in low-key, efficient exchanges with several generals regarding the application of new medical technologies on the front lines.
Dr. Catherine Halsey, one of the leading figures in the Empire's scientific and technological field, whose arrival sparked a small-scale gathering of many technocrats and scholars discussing the latest scientific research progress.
Athena, this Goddess of War seamlessly blended into the crowd, participating in strategic-level dialogues with her characteristic calmness.
Tinas Lothlorien, that graceful and long-lived Elven Queen, dressed in exquisite attire that combined traditional Elven grand dress with Imperial formal wear, was engaged in friendly conversation with a few Primarchs who were quite interested in foreign cultures.
And the most dazzling stars on the square were undoubtedly those Primarchs.
Their stalwart bodies stood out like cranes among a flock of chickens, even within the crowd.
Lion was gathered around a tactical hologram with several high-ranking generals, discussing the defense of a certain distant star sector;
Vulkan's hearty laughter rang out from time to time as he clinked glasses with a few mortal officers, putting on no airs;
Perturabo seemed more inclined to communicate with technical officials, the topic revolving around an optimization plan for a certain mega-engineering project;
Mortarion stood alone in the shadows of a colonnade slightly further away, silently overlooking the city below;
Curze's figure was even more elusive, sometimes appearing at the edge of the crowd, sometimes vanishing into the shadows of buildings, but no one dared to ignore his presence...
The numerous Primarchs, each with vastly different personalities, jointly formed the peak of the Empire's martial prowess and the symbol of its spirit.
The conversations among them—some as intimate as true brothers, some polite yet distant, and others carrying obscure tension—but this complex dynamic itself was a microcosm of the Empire's diverse yet unified power.
On one side of the square, inside a side hall specially built for today's celebration and sharing the same style as the main hall, Samuel Young was getting a moment of solitude and respite.
He was not dressed in festive ceremonial clothes, but still wore that iconic black-and-gold power armor, only without the helmet.
He sat upright on the only chair in the hall, his eyes slightly closed. Amidst the mottled light and shadow passing through the stained glass windows, his face revealed a profound exhaustion that he only allowed himself to show at this very moment.
Truth be told, continuously carrying out cross-universe perception, information disturbance, and even blessing and protection without having established stable spatial portals consumed his energy far beyond ordinary imagination.
That was not just the output of psychic energy, but a deep weariness brought about by his willpower maintaining high-intensity penetration and precise control for a long time.
He could hardly remember how long it had been since the last time he was able to truly rest with his eyes closed and completely sink his consciousness into dreamless sleep...
Decades?
Or perhaps longer.
Ever since he resolved to build this multiverse-spanning Empire, since he sat upon this Golden Throne and took on the heavy burden of guarding the destiny of humanity across endless space and time, the word rest had been completely deleted from his personal dictionary.
The throne was responsibility, and staying awake was an obligation.
At every moment, the destiny threads of trillions of compatriots were connected to him, awaiting guidance or protection.
Thinking of this, he felt an unprecedented, profound understanding and resonance with the Emperor of Mankind in the Warhammer 40k universe, crossing the bounds between fiction and reality.
That Emperor, who sat upon the Golden Throne for ten thousand years, burning himself to keep the beacon of humanity from extinguishing, what he endured—loneliness, heavy pressure, and eternal torment—was so incredibly great, so incredibly...
Awe-inspiring.
Samuel Young dared not say he had already surpassed him, but he knew very well that he absolutely could not do any worse.
No matter how tired, he had to hold on.
This was not just a responsibility, but the very meaning of his existence.
Fortunately, the growing power of faith gathering from countless human compatriots across worlds both inside and outside the Empire's borders was like an inexhaustible source of energy, continuously nourishing and supporting his beyond-mortal essence, ensuring he wouldn't be completely crushed while bearing this heavy burden.
"Tomorrow..." he murmured in his heart: "I shall open only one new spatial portal."
To him, this almost counted as a kind of rest.
After all, with the continuous accumulation and qualitative change of the power of faith, he vaguely felt that the moment when he could truly anchor specific universes and precisely open channels without expending a massive price was not far away.
When that time came, the Empire's integration pace would enter a brand new, highly efficient stage.
The brief respite ended, and Samuel Young opened his eyes. That trace of exhaustion had been replaced by perfect majesty and profundity.
He stood up and strode out of the side hall.
His appearance was like dropping an ocean-calming needle into a clamorous sea.
All the conversations, laughter, and discussions in the square lowered in an instant, eventually dissolving into an awe-filled silence.
Everyone's gaze, regardless of distance or status, turned towards him in unison, directed at that Emperor of Humanity.
Samuel Young's face was calm as he stepped steadily into the crowd.
He shook hands with distinguished generals, offering a few words of encouragement;
Had brief conversations with key ministers and officials, inquiring about state affairs;
Finally, he arrived at the area where his descendants, the Primarchs, had gathered.
There were no excessive words; just an exchange of glances, a light touch on a shoulder pad, or a whisper understood only among themselves had already conveyed countless pieces of information and emotion.
The Primarchs one after another bowed slightly, paying their respects to their father.
In the end, flanked by the crowd, Samuel Young came to the podium at the very edge of the square, offering the most expansive view.
Below were trillions of Imperial citizens gathered in the lower squares, streets, and even watching via holographic projections.
He overlooked this prosperity, gazing at the upturned faces, and slowly spoke.
Amplified by psychic energy, his voice spread clearly across the square and to every corner of the city. There were no impassioned shouts, only a declaration as steady as the earth, yet containing endless power and hope, reviewing the Empire's achievements, thanking the citizens for their dedication, and elaborating on the vision for the future.
"For humanity!!"
"For the Empire!!"
The moment the words fell, a tsunami of cheers erupted like a volcano, rocketing into the sky from the city below and shaking the clouds.
Countless Imperial Dragon emblems were raised, their light twinkling like a galaxy of stars.
Samuel Young stood upon the high platform, bathed in the invisible flow of light formed by the gathering of trillions of faiths and the deafening cheers. His silhouette under the midday sun seemed to merge into one with the towering palace complex behind him, becoming the Empire's eternal, unfalling symbol...
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