Subsequently, at the Emperor's signal, the High Lords took turns presenting the Current State of the Imperium to the Primarchs.
They detailed the Imperium's Enemies—Chaos, Orks, Necrons (Skeletons), Eldar (Long-Ears), Tyranids (Bugs), and the recently emerged T'au (Greater Good).
They also briefly mentioned the Internal Strife and the extremely Backward Political System that the Imperium had been struggling with.
All of this summarized into a simple yet heavy truth: the Imperium had survived for Ten Thousand Years under Internal and External Peril, and its continued existence was truly a Miracle.
The High Lords' voices became softer and softer as they reported, eventually becoming almost murmurs of self-pity. The entire Grand Hall fell silent.
The Primarchs' expressions evolved from initial Shock and Anger to a later state of Solemnity and Gloom. Each was digesting the suffocating information.
Ian observed the shift in the Primarchs' expressions, but he also noted the topics that the High Lords had deliberately avoided.
He cleared his throat, breaking the silence: "High Lords, why not also give a brief introduction to the current Ecclesiastical Tithe and the Codex Astartes?"
Collins, the Lord Minister of the Departmento Administratium, instantly looked crestfallen, as if he had swallowed a live Nurgling.
He had painstakingly tried to skirt these two sensitive topics, only to be directly named by Ian.
He glanced at the Emperor, but the Emperor merely sat quietly, awaiting his answer.
"As you command." Collins felt as if he were being grilled over a fire; beads of Sweat dropped one after another from his forehead.
He cautiously began to describe the Imperium's current Ecclesiastical Tithe System, every word seemingly squeezed from between his teeth.
He spoke of how the System was like a colossal Vampire, greedily sucking the Blood of every Imperial World.
Every World, whether Rich or Poor, whether in Bumper Harvest or Famine, must unconditionally surrender one-tenth of its Resources and Manpower.
This "one-tenth" was like a Sword of Damocles hanging overhead, ready to fall at any moment and utterly destroy a World.
In truth, when the System was first established, it was quite reasonable—only taking one-tenth of the income was considered very conscientious.
However, due to various reasons, only about one-third of the originally allocated Supplies usually remained after collection, so the Imperium increased the Taxation.
Furthermore, because the Imperium's Territory was too vast and the Political System too cumbersome and redundant, virtually no one actually bothered to calculate the true amount of Supplies on a World.
Therefore, the Taxation amount for most Worlds remained the figure originally set.
If a World's annual output was ten million before, the Tax was one million; now, if it could only earn one hundred thousand a year, the Tax was still one million.
If a World failed to pay the Tax on time, Imperial Forces would be sent to enforce collection, or even launch a punitive Campaign.
Under these circumstances, it would be strange if the Rate of Rebellion was not high.
Collins' voice dropped lower and lower as he described the Worlds crushed by the Ecclesiastical Tithe: on Agricultural Planets, farmers toiled year-round, only to end up with no grain, forced to watch their Families starve.
On Industrial Worlds, workers labored day and night, but the Products they manufactured were continuously shipped away, leaving them with only endless Fatigue and Despair.
Some Planets had even been drained of their last drop of Resources, becoming silent, lifeless Deserts.
What was more infuriating was that these extorted Resources were not being used for the Imperium's Construction.
They fell into a Bottomless Pit, embezzled layer by layer by various Bureaucrats to line their own pockets.
Less than one percent actually reached the places where they were needed.
Guilliman's face grew darker with every word. He slammed his fist down, and several Cracks instantly appeared on the solid Long Table.
He roared, "This is madness! The Ecclesiastical Tithe was established back then to provide necessary Supplies to the Imperium, allowing all Worlds to weather difficulties together! It was not meant for those Worms to exploit Civilians and satisfy their Greed!"
Vulkan's eyes were filled with Pity. He shook his head, his voice hoarse: "Those common People... they bear too much undeserved Suffering."
He understood the struggle and Pain of the lower-class People better than the other Primarchs. These words came almost directly from his heart.
Lion remained expressionless, his mood unreadable. But a chilling Glint flickered in his deep Eyes.
He spoke slowly: "Continue, Minister." Each word was like a heavy Hammer striking Collins' heart.
The other Primarchs also expressed their Discontent—some Angry, some Heartbroken, some simply Helpless.
But they all knew that now was not the time to completely overturn the Ecclesiastical Tithe. The Imperium, a sinking ship, could not withstand any more major Storms.
Collins secretly glanced at the Emperor on the Throne, but the Emperor just sat in silence, seemingly indifferent to everything.
Collins could only grit his teeth and continue, feeling like he was walking a Tightrope, liable to fall and be utterly destroyed with the slightest mistake.
The few Primarchs could only sigh inwardly.
They sighed for the Civilians barely surviving under the heavy weight of the Ecclesiastical Tithe, for this tattered Imperium, and for their own Inability to Act.
They regretted not waking up sooner. If they had returned earlier, perhaps none of this would have happened.
Collins felt his throat dry up. He swallowed hard, then continued to talk about the situation with the Codex Astartes.
"This Codex..." Collins' voice was somewhat hoarse. He struggled to control his tone, trying to make it sound calm, "was hastily drafted by Lord Guilliman ten thousand years ago..."
"Originally... the Codex should have been continuously optimized with the development of the Era..." Collins' voice grew quieter. He secretly glanced at Guilliman, whose face had become so dark it looked like it could drip water.
"But..." Collins pushed on, "later generations... have regarded the Codex as an Infallible Guide... and have used it word-for-word... until today..."
He felt like a defendant being judged in a Court, every sentence potentially becoming evidence for a conviction.
"Among them... many Regulations... are completely unsuited to Modern Warfare..." Collins' voice was barely audible. "Instead... they have become Fetters... preventing the Astartes... from fully utilizing their Combat Power..."
"Due to the Codex, quite a few Loyalist Chapters were purged, and some even turned Traitor."
He no longer dared to look at Guilliman and kept his head bowed.
A heavy silence fell over the Grand Hall, broken only by Collins' intermittent voice echoing.
"Absurd!"
Guilliman could hold back no longer. He abruptly stood up and slammed his fist onto the Long Table.
The High Lords present were startled; they had never seen Guilliman so Distraught.
"I emphasized this when I wrote the Codex!" Guilliman's voice was filled with Remorse and Anger.
"This was just a First Draft! A First Draft! It was meant to be continuously revised and improved based on Practical Combat Experience!"
He felt his heart bleed. He had never imagined that the Codex he had established to regulate the Space Marines would be so utterly Misinterpreted and Abused by later generations.
"I remember clearly," Vulkan slowly stood up, walked to Guilliman's side, and gently patted his shoulder, signaling him to calm down.
"You even specified a Revision Cycle in the Preface—that the Codex should be revised according to the actual situation every so often." He turned to look at the bowed High Lords, his eyes filled with Disappointment.
"It seems some people only know how to rigidly apply Rules but do not understand the Spirit behind them." Lion also stood up.
Ian watched the scene with great interest. He knew that the Return of these Primarchs would completely shatter the Imperium's status quo, but that was exactly what he wanted.