Chapter 190 After Dexia

"You are the only one standing now, Perturabo."

Morse's hand rested on the armrest of his special wheelchair, and psychic energy was injected into the wheel axle through the operating system through the joystick, automatically controlling the direction of the wheelchair.

There is a laser cannon barrel above his right shoulder, and in terms of purpose, this barrel is just an accessory to the searchlight attached to the top.

Perturabo walked slowly forward, following Dorn who was pushing and pulling the joystick with two fingers. This long dark passage extends downward from the hiding place of the King's Palace in the Desia City of Nuceria. The silver armors stored on both sides occasionally flash a dazzling silver light under the illumination of Morse's searchlight.

"Normal people would not accelerate the forward speed of a wheelchair to thirty miles per hour with someone who really needs to recover from their injuries when they are healthy, able to run and fly."

"I'm not a human being." Morse gave his usual reply, which elicited a strange laugh, like the sound of an amused stone.

Donn shook his fingers. This was the maximum movement he could make except speaking. No matter what, the voice of the rock wrapped in gauze remained calm: "Two years ago, I had an affair with him because of this. There was a quarrel at Perturabo.”

"Is that something worth laughing about?" Perturabo looked at the high-ranking rider Silver Armor next to him displeasedly. Even though the tunnel was completely dark, the Primarch could still clearly see all the details on these creations. . He critically examines these relics of ancient technology.

"No," said Dawn, "I don't know why I laughed just now."

"I believe that Rogal Dorn has a smile trigger mechanism that is different from most people. For example, I believe that this wheelchair can win a smile from our Lord of the Seventh Legion, but he immediately started asking whether the heated barrel will be used. The patient’s shoulder skin was damaged.”

Morse reached out and patted the still slightly hot laser cannon barrel. A few minutes ago, this barrel had just used laser to cut through the camouflaged wall of the King's Palace, allowing the two Primarchs and Morse to enter Nuceria, a secret passage covered with thick dust that had not been used for countless years. .

"That's what he is," said Perturabo.

"Well, let me tell you something really funny. You two will never guess what the Emperor said when I told him he'd better come and see his two mummified offspring."

"What is a mummy?"

"Is this a new question, or an answer to my question?" Morse shook his head and leaned back into the black cushions in his wheelchair. "The origins of this culture can be traced back to dozens of thousands of years ago. On Old Terra, where humans had not yet left their home planet, people wrapped the bodies of dead bodies with cloth as a form of funeral ritual.”

"They believed that the soul would not die after death, so they used embalming materials to collect the body and filled it with spices to show respect for the deceased." Perturabo said, "There is this article in the funeral customs archives of the Great Library of Terra ”

Rogal Dorn rolled his eyes and looked at his arms and legs wrapped in gauze, and then continued to look straight ahead, observing whether there were any ups and downs in front of this long secret passage that were not conducive to wheelchair access: "Oh. So the Emperor said What?"

"They won't die."

"The Emperor is right," Dorn commented. "We will not die."

Perturabo's frowned eyebrows relaxed again because of Dorn's words. He was silent for a second and said, "But he still came to Nuceria."

"Yes," Morse stretched out his hand and tapped the silver armor next to him with his knuckles. The rustling sound of some insects escaping quickly spread and quickly disappeared into the soil. "An enigmatic ruler, huh?"

"You can understand him." Donn said with certainty, noticing the black cloth wrapped around Morse's hand, and fell into new thinking, "You wrapped strips of cloth all over your body, are you imitating a mummy?"

"This is proof that he cut corners," Perturabo said. "You don't want to know what's under those strips."

"Yes, I do understand him." Morse shrugged, retracting his hand and hiding it in the folds of the fabric of his black robe. "So I asked him to come as a human being. And he skillfully grasped the most eye-catching moment, gradually revealing his brilliance among the ordinary people, affecting the atmosphere and bringing it to an extreme, allowing the true magnificent golden light to infuse His sacred body is marked with a golden crown as his unique supreme identity in the world... Whether it makes him look like a god of light who was born from a mortal, or a born holy king who fell into the ordinary dust from ancient times, he at least proved that He can stand on the human side.”

Perturabo put his hand on the center of the backrest of Rogal Dorn's wheelchair. When the Emperor showed his true form, he understood the significance of the human king appearing in this form: "Angron was He has decided to pursue his ideals and devote himself to the cause of the Great Crusade. But after this, he will also love our father himself."

"Is this a ploy?" Donne asked. "From your narrative perspective, I can come to this conclusion."

"You can forget it." Morse chuckled, and the wheelchair crushed the bones of some small rodents. "The Emperor has thousands of faces, and those are undoubtedly a part of him. However, he often cannot think of the human beings. The Lord is not always His most powerful identity.”

"A politics based on recognition?" Perturabo said.

"Stop making everything so academic. It makes you sound like Magnus."

"How am I similar to him?" Perturabo snorted softly, "Speaking of Magnus, has he finished the task assigned to him by the Emperor?"

"Verification of the effectiveness of the retention of emotions dependent on the fluctuating energy field? You might as well ask him himself, it's not difficult."

Perturabo looked down at Dorn, and the Primarch in the wheelchair seemed to have sensed something and asked calmly: "Do you need me to leave and evade it?"

"Is there any need for a person trapped in a wheelchair to evade it?" Morse's fingers rolled rhythmically on the armrest, pressing down and bouncing up quickly from the index finger to the little finger in turn, as if he was playing some invisible musical instrument, or tapping on an invisible tablet. "If Rogal Dorn is not trustworthy, no Primarch is trustworthy."

"What about me?"

"You have been trusted, what else is there to assume?" Morse said, knowing that Perturabo was just asking a question out of habit, and he also threw out a brisk answer, "In fact, the Emperor and Malcador even think that Terra needs another Primarch to appear in time when necessary and take charge of some palace-related repairs. Now there are not many people returning, and Rogal Dorn is always more suitable than others-"

"Think about it, with Horus Lupercal's ability and character, he is not suitable for a corner, even if that corner is the center of the human empire; Magnus has destroyed the kitchen of a palace, and Leman Russ is absolutely capable of transforming the Terra Palace into a large Fenris-themed castle park within a winter day."

"What about Angron?" Dorn asked, simply expressing his doubts.

"It seems I should start with Magnus's project. His experimental results suggest that another Primarch with telepathic talent should go back to participate in the work, so Angron has already stepped half a foot on the edge of the Emperor's grand plan. Now it depends on whether our Emperor can persuade him to return to Terra and trick him into Magnus's experimental test as soon as possible."

"Do I also need to return to Terra?" Rogal Dorn heard some hints from Morse's words. "And do I have the right to know my mission now?"

"Go ask the Emperor." Morse said, his fingers continued to tap lightly on the armrest, and then he stopped and closed his fingers inward.

"No, you and Angron don't have to rush back to Terra." He said, driving the wheelchair forward and moving along the downward slope. "Malcador gave me some amazing latest progress, and we may be lucky enough to witness some wonderful things in person next."

"Do you have to hide the truth behind the heavy man-made fog, Mors?"

"Why don't we first guess what this dusty secret passage extending from the Desia King's Palace to the interior of the mountain is." The craftsman said, "Where does it lead to? Is anyone interested in guessing?"

"No." Perturabo did not hesitate at all.

"Abandoned arsenal?" Dorn asked. The displays on the walls on both sides of this secret passage, which could be called an exhibition hall of ancient human technology, left a deep impression on him.

"My psychic thread tells me it's not." Mors turned over his palm, palm facing up, and a thin golden and blue thread was retracted from the end of the tunnel after several bends. "Keep going."

The dark tunnel stretched far away from the mountains, winding and twisting. The road rose and fell several times in silence. The only sounds that accompanied the three people were the rolling sound of the wheelchair over the dust, the footsteps of Perturabo, and the subtle rubbing of the Primarch's robe against the stone walls on both sides.

Soon after, a beam of light shone into the tunnel. It was very small at first, and entered the Primarch's sight after multiple refractions of dust. After the last turn, the sunlight passed through the gaps between the bricks and stones on the sealed wall. The light was like an open rib, stretching out the darkness inside the wall.

Morse knocked on the handrail, and a laser shot out after a short charge, cutting and shattering the thin brick wall. The light on the other side of the mountain suddenly illuminated everything. The vast sandy scene, which was not much different from the other side of the mountain, now seemed to be in a new posture, as if it were a world away, and fell into the sight of the three people together with the clear blue sky and the wisps of high clouds.

"This is a tunnel," said Morse. "A secret passage that no one knows about, no one disturbs, and ignores the outside world, and goes directly through the mountains."

——

They stopped at the foot of the mountain, above the Nuceria military base. Ice and snow meet here. Up, the icy wind blows the broken bones in the frozen soil. Down, there are transport vehicles and workers moving back and forth.

After the arena incident a few days ago, Angron ordered all other arena sites in Nuceria to be leveled from the surface, leaving only the last arena in the city of Desia as a core place for education and warning.

As for this last arena, Angron ordered the World Eaters to fill in several prisons for imprisoned beasts on the edge of the Desia Red Sand Field, replace the sand with clean soil, seal the audience seats, install surveillance equipment, and directly engrave the history of this place on the bricks and stones outside the wall, as well as several core legal guidelines discussed at the first Nuceria Conference, to maintain the purity of the use of this facility.

In addition, he visited Perturabo and sincerely asked his brother to reconsider the new Nuceria Memorial - his brother stood up from behind the iron table and took his hand the moment he bowed his head.

"Perturabo designed this memorial for me, with an indoor venue for historical introduction and an outdoor venue directly connected to the mountain cemetery."

Angron said, hearing the Emperor's breathing in the gaps between words,

"The theme of the memorial is the suffering, hardships, perseverance and sacrifices of all those who fought for freedom in Nuceria. From the recent one-year war, to all the decades of resistance I have witnessed since my arrival here, to the great souls who have shed blood in the millennia, their ideals will be engraved here and eternal in memory."

The golden laurel crown that held down the Emperor's black hair blended with the sunlight beside him, showing a cold brilliance in the cold autumn wind of Nuceria.

When he stood up at his seat in the conference hall, the laurel crown floated on his bare forehead, and the golden armor covered his cloth, he broke away from the previous image of a mortal who talked freely, calm and idealistic, and stepped into another more noble and far-reaching divine image.

However, Angron noticed that the commander who called himself the Emperor never left the seat that belonged to the people. He stood in golden armor and waited.

Angron then stepped down from the podium, crossed the sea of ​​people, and, surrounded by the citizens of Nuceria, held the Emperor's hand through the golden gauntlet.

"You do not emphasize your own merits," the Emperor said, his tone steady and long.

"I wait for my citizens to judge me," Angron said, still somewhat worried when he mentioned the people of Nuceria. He feared that they would once again fall into the worse side of human nature.

The Emperor nodded slightly. "What did Rogal Dorn see in the Warp?"

Angron was slightly surprised by the question: "A huge demon with blood mist, wings on its back, and powerful military force. Perturabo said that the best way to deal with doubts is to ignore them."

"The Fourth Primarch relayed Morse's words," the Emperor asserted.

Angron nodded. "Then, you came here."

The Emperor withdrew his gaze from afar and turned to Angron, the shadow of golden flame dancing in his dark eyes. His figure was supported by the light, as if he was a giant who could touch the sky and the earth.

But Angron could see the image of the Emperor, the middle-aged man who talked eloquently among the crowd, with rough skin and a tired face, but a cluster of ideal fire was burning in his body. It was this cluster of fire that burned out the brilliant light of the image of the Lord of Mankind through his body. Until the darkness is burned out, the blazing fire will never go out.

Something hot and hard surged into Angron's heart.

"Do you know what your next responsibility will be?"

"We will go to Ultramar," Angron said, "and then return to Terra via Olympia. We will watch the galaxy and ignite the fire of war until oppression no longer exists and the dream of unification is realized."

The Emperor's eyes softened.

"You will take on more than you think."

"Then come."

Angron said.