40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 467 188. Terra (forty-six, steel and stone wolves, hypocritical person)

Don't believe in a truth that cannot exist. Leon El'Jonson heard his ghost say. I don't want you to be driven crazy, losing your mind is painful.

He didn't answer, just tightened the spear in his left hand. The legacy of Leman Russ gleamed coldly, the tip of his spear pointing towards the dark sky. Dozens of White Scar combat motorcycles roared past his right front and began to spy on intelligence.

There is no one more suitable for this responsibility than them. They come like wind and go like lightning. They can always come and go as they please. Moreover, vehicles such as combat motorcycles are already very valuable in their current army.

The previous battle to open the Star Torch gate caused them to lose most of their vehicles. Now, even the tin cans like Leman Russ have become popular. After comprehensive consideration of many factors, the Lions just agreed to their initiative.

He didn't want the White Scars to leave at first. Who knows what the broken Terra would bring to them? However, looking at the eyes of the White Scars, he still couldn't say no in the end.

You relented. Russ scoffed in his ear. That's not what you used to be like, Leon, you used to--

"——Leon!" Someone called him, his voice urgent.

The Lion turned his head and saw his wounded brother Sanguinius. Those cruel scars still haven't healed, and many of them are even bleeding. Even the Primarch's self-healing abilities couldn't make them get better quickly.

The lion frowned and his expression became a little gloomy. The demon's ferocious face flashed before his eyes, and his murderous intent flashed away.

"I'm here." The lion nodded calmly. "What's the matter, brother?"

Looking at his brothers, Leon El'Jonson described in full what Sanguinius had seen. He didn't choose to let the Archangel do it.

He turned and drew his spear, its grip spotless from dust. Immediately afterwards, he began to run with long strides, the lion sword motionless in the scabbard behind his back, tightly fitting.

The ancient profession of messengers is back, but this time, they must first learn how to find a way through the forest. Twelve minutes later, the army stopped in place at a slow speed. With the communication system unable to operate, this speed was already the limit of what they could achieve.

Don’t you already understand how to stay sane at all times? Don't give up all your efforts at this moment, don't try that impossible thing

Don't follow in my footsteps. He said every word with tears.

The lion's two hearts suddenly stopped beating for a moment. When they beat again, his heartbeat was already violent and raging like continuous thunder. Under the ebony armor, the music of thirst for blood played wildly in his chest.

A Warlord-class Titan passed by them with a deafening sound, and the assault boat followed closely behind with the Dark Angels filled with murderous intent. There was a huge flow of people, and the two Primarchs met each other against them and looked at each other.

"What happened to it?" he asked in a slightly hoarse voice. "What other blasphemy did it do?"

High walls. The Lion quickly captured this keyword.

Leon El'Jonson began to take a deep breath.

The forest appeared in front of him again, and he breathed in the familiar smell of moist earth. He walked out of the forest without much effort and found several other brothers who were in the battle formation.

"I see it driving the dark wolves," Sanguinius answered in the same hoarse voice. "They're chewing on a piece of steel, and a piece of stone, beneath a shattered wall. Bodies everywhere, Leon. Iron Warriors, Imperial Fists."

He stopped, let go slightly, and inserted the spear deeply into the muddy ground.

Ruth sighed in his ear: Why is it always like this, Leon? Why do the best of us always have to face the worst?

After a moment, the Lion raised his left hand and placed it on Sanguinius's shoulder.

Ferrus Manus, Fulgrim, Jaghatai - they gathered together wordlessly and quickly, and issued multiple orders relying on the ability of the Lion.

Don't. Ruth begged in his ear. Calm down, Leon.

Again.

Cold air escaped from Sanguinius' lips and teeth. He was obviously suppressing his anger and spit out one word from his throat: "It"

"What did you see?" he asked, his voice still calm.

Because that's how the world is. The lion said in his heart.

"I saw something," Sanguinius said palely. "My talent."

Ferrus Manus was the first to get to the heart of this issue succinctly and to the point.

"If there is any high wall on Terra that is worthy of being driven by the so-called wolves to attack, and even having the Iron Warriors and the Imperial Fists jointly stationed there, I think it can only be the Imperial Palace."

The iron hand weighed his Furnace Breaker gently, tapping it with his fingers one after another, making a slightly dull echo. Since the beginning of the war, he had become increasingly taciturn, and his anger had gradually become the opposite extreme.

The less he spoke, the more palpable his ferocious anger became.

Fulgrim covered his forehead in worry, not wanting to think about the reasons behind this incident, but instead focused on Sanguinius' prophecy.

Black flames billowed in his eyes as he spoke, and his shadow cloak hung down behind his back, twisting like a living creature. No matter how you look at it, he is completely different from the person he once was.

"But how are we going to get to the palace?" He asked the fatal question. "The current situation is chaotic and there is a lack of guidance. We may be involved in many wars along the way."

"I can try," said the Lion. "My talent can-"

——You can’t get through it, brother. Leman Russ stood between his living brothers and shook his head. The owners of the Vengeful Spirit won't let you arrive so easily.

The lion closed his mouth, eyes boiling with anger.

Jaghatai Khan glanced at him thoughtfully, his eyes slipping away from the Spear of Dionysus. He smiled slightly as if he knew something, and suddenly said: "You might as well look up at the sky, brothers."

There was only a sharp sound, and the white tiger sword was unsheathed. With a flash of cold light, it pointed straight into the sky. Deep in the dark clouds, a golden light that was too intense for it was surging.

"The Light of the Star Torch," Sanguinius murmured.

"Yes, Star Torch." Chogoris Eagle shrugged and sheathed his long sword with his backhand. He put his left hand on the handle of the knife and started rubbing it with squinted eyes.

"The biggest role of the Star Torch is to guide the Empire's ships in subspace. With its light, the navigators can see clearly where the road in front of them leads and where Terra is. So, from the perspective of occultism, From a certain perspective, does it have the attribute of 'the right path'?"

When did he start studying the occult? Ruth's eyes widened. Ask him quickly, Leon!

The lion spoke reluctantly, knowing that if he didn't speak, Ruth would keep pestering him.

"Since when did you start studying the occult, Khan?"

"About a few hours ago." Chagatai replied in a relaxed tone. "Although I am not very interested in these feudal superstitions, but considering what we are going through now, I think there may be a lot of truth in these things that are all labeled as lies by the imperial truth."

He smiled. "In short, we are at our wits' end now, how about we try this slightly metaphysical method?"

"What if it doesn't succeed?" Ferus asked without emotion.

"It doesn't cost anything to try." Chaghatai kept smiling and continued to answer. "Is it possible that it will be like those country witches, tremblingly walking over with clay pots, asking us to collect money?"

"Indeed," Fulgrim said.

He almost laughed because of Khan's words. That brief moment of brilliance almost made people think that he had returned to the past - but the truth was cruel after all, and the tail of the phoenix's hair was still burning continuously.

The Lion sighed: "Then, it seems we need to reconvene the think tank."

This is violating Nicaea's prohibition, brother. Ruth winked at him with a smile. But I forgive you, don't forget to find my priests too.

The lion glared at him, but his talent had already started to work. He didn't want to waste any time, he just wanted to quickly go under the high wall to support the loyalists who were fighting - of course, he had another desire, but he didn't Will talk it out.

Otherwise the annoying wolf will hear it and annoy him to no end.

You should know that I can hear this sentence, right? Ruth asked quietly.

The lion ignored him, but at this moment Sanguinius spoke in a worried voice: "But, what if the picture I saw is wrong?"

He looked at his brothers, scanning each person's face in turn, and looked at them for a brief but long time.

"What if this is a trap?" he asked softly. "What if what I see is what it wants me to see? We all know what it can do."

Ferrus Manus said coldly: "Even if this is really the case, even if this is just a conspiracy, we must go to support it."

"Yes." Phoenix said softly. "No matter what, resistance has meaning, Sanguinius. Even if this resistance fails to bring any results, it is much better than helpless escape."

He raised his hand and slowly clenched it with his fingers. The fire flashed away, and the Sword of Raging Flames appeared again.

"I can't wait to see it again." Jaghatai said coldly. His hand was still resting on the long knife at his waist.

The angel of Baal took a deep breath and nodded silently and heavily. He knew that his brothers had made up their minds. And if this is the end, if that thing will be waiting for him under the high wall

My blood will bring a new dawn.
-

Ezekiel Abaddon gritted his teeth.

It doesn't make any sense, it doesn't make any sense. He exhaled a cold breath and looked down to see a cold corpse. He was tightly wrapped in blue-gray tentacles, and the dead man's face was covered with beating blood vessels. After a while, it started to speak human words.

"Encountering the enemy!" it screamed, spitting out battle reports from the front lines, in a sickening way. "We are engaging the enemy, Ezekiel!"

This makes no sense. He stared at the thing and thought.

Then he spoke, hypocritically returning to reason: "I don't care what method you want to use, the Warmaster has given the order. He wants to see the heads of every Iron Warrior and Imperial Fist cut off."

The deceased was silent for a while, then suddenly chuckled. Of course, that was not the reply from the front line, but his own smile. Abaddon was keenly aware that it was laughing at him.

Anger slowly emerged, forcing him to tighten his grip on the ghost that was deep in the soil.

"Then you have to send me more people!" The corpse suddenly started roaring again. "These damn bastards have placed explosives and traps at every corner of their trenches. Every three meters I advance costs at least two lives!"

"I will send four more companies to attack from the flank," Abaddon said. "And then there are the three Word Bearers—"

"——Get the hell away from them!" The corpse suddenly roared in Cosonia, full of gang style. "I would rather die in the hands of the enemy than be stabbed in the back by those lunatics!"

Abaddon turned back gloomily and looked at the First Captain of the Word Bearers, Cole Fallon: "I remember that we have discussed military discipline. Captain Cole, you must restrain your people."

"I'll do my best," Cole Phalon replied dryly and nonchalantly. "But what's the point?"

Abaddon clenched his fists and growled in his imagination.

The meaning is to win! The significance is that we are fighting against the damn alliance of the Imperial Fists and the Iron Warriors!

We can use artillery to bombard their positions, and we can use tanks to bring troops closer quickly, but no matter what, this war will eventually turn into a tug-of-war and a huge millstone of flesh and blood! Because we're dealing with them, you know?

But he didn't say these words after all. In Cole Phaeron's intriguing eyes, Abaddon nodded.

"The Warmaster will not be happy to see an undisciplined army," the Son of Horus said with an almost numb calm. "How many people can you send?"

The Word Bearer smiled, his dark teeth flashing: "How many people do you need?"

There was no pride in his tone.

"What do you mean?" Abaddon asked instinctively. For some reason, he felt wary.

"I will give you as many men as you want, Lord Abaddon."

Cole Phaeron suddenly began to laugh so hard that he could hardly breathe.

"I can give you cultists to use as cannon fodder, elite blessed sons, and a large number of backbone troops. I can get you whatever troops you want, do you understand? "

He doubled over with laughter.

"What is so funny?" Abaddon clenched his fists and asked as the corpse roared and urged.

"Because, because--" Cole Phaeron laughed wildly and grabbed his own throat. "——Our fate has been determined! We are just slaves of the gods! As long as they want, we can be endless!"

Abaddon looked at him coldly and once again suppressed the thought of killing him. He turned to the corpse and said, "I will give you twenty thousand people."

The corpse growled in reply: "What?"

"Twenty thousand Word Bearers," Abaddon said. "You don't have the choice to win for the Warmaster and fight alongside them."

"Fuck you, Ezekiel, you madman," the Son of Horus cursed. "Fuck you!"

Abaddon slashed the corpse's head off with his sword.

(End of this chapter)