Chapter 235 Please Join the Dance

In this magnificent hall full of treasures, warm and ecstatic cheers erupted from time to time under the gauze-mist lamps that imitated the black sun, like drums echoing in thunder, and black wings splitting the night sky. The wind music played by huge instruments of indistinguishable materials pierced the eardrums of the guests at the banquet in the hustle and bustle of the crowd.

The music occasionally subsided, and at this time the dancers and slaves presented the guests with the dual extremes of lightness and clumsiness, giving spiritual aesthetics and material enjoyment between the clanging cups, plates, knives, forks and spoons. The slender and feathered slave gladiators improvised in the wide gaps between the tables, biting each other and using hooked long sticks to dig out the beating hearts of the other side.

This multiple sense of perception satisfied all the guests' fantasies about high positions and power. Even the small nobles who lived in the muddy streets and turbid poisonous waters of the lower level of Gomorrah and were only qualified to avoid the glory of the upper class when the dim twilight of the black sun occasionally passed by could also taste the supreme dream moment in this large banquet.

"I invite you to enjoy it, guests! Enjoy the sunshine of the sect! This is a thorough feast, a declaration of prosperity and harvest! First, before everything starts, come and drink our wine and our fire!"

"A social banquet." A low voice sounded beside Conrad Curz, and a dish of food made from precious echinoderms was respectfully handed to Curz.

This is exactly the identity that Victor chose today-an unknown servant of the Haemonculi who underwent facial transformation; there are few things that are worthy of this former little slave, and false dignity is not one of them.

"Of course, of course." Conrad answered casually. He should have responded to Victor's words with more, such as a roundabout sarcasm or a cold curse, but the Blood Lord's eyes were always on the other end of the banquet hall.

"Who is that, Blood Lord?" Asdubal Victor noticed his abnormality.

"I'll go and take a look." Conrad quietly stood up, and his huge body slid into the deep shadows.

He quietly floated through the gaps between the revelers and suddenly stepped into a burning galaxy.

Countless ships in the deep space were like Leviathans shuttling between the stars, and in the interstellar dust and meteorite belts, they composed a soul-stirring symphony with deadly and cold firepower. The light of the ship's guns was cold and silent, and the dazzling beams passed through the dark universe, each of which was a symbol of destruction and creation.

A noun suddenly jumped into Conrad Curz's mind. Farr. He thought. This naval battle took place in Farr, and one of the participants was...

The omen of the moment was fleeting, throwing the bloody marquis who grew up in the dark night back to the time and space where his body was. He was stiff all over, unable to speak, his knees were strangely weak, and his heart was throbbing as if a hard and slender gem carving was piercing his flesh.

In this moment of powerlessness, he was almost defeated by the loss of control over his own situation. Fear and self-loathing rose rapidly in his limbs, like a deep and dark nightmare, and part of his brain was screaming and forcing him to respond.

In the next moment, he gritted his teeth and ordered his body not to betray his will in such a cowardly form.

Conrad Coze licked his lips, spit out the black hair in his mouth, and re-observed the banquet scene that changed in his uncontrolled breath. He saw that the secret transactions of banquet conventions had begun to take place in many places, just like autumn leaves always fall into the mud when the season comes.

In a corner of the banquet hall, he saw the steel giant again.

When the whole world was in a monster-like carnival, the giant showed an absolute indifference to the situation. He didn't care to prove that he didn't belong here.

And when Conrad Curze saw the remaining half of his face, he was shocked... no matter how complicated the words were, he couldn't describe it.

There was a constant calm but irresistible light in the soul of the machine, so stable, so sure of victory, opposite and similar to himself, charming enough and disgusting enough.

Yes, Perturabo. He recognized him, or his handwriting, his work, his mechanical creation, who knows what the machine is?

In the fantasy section and the blazing flames of destruction, in the collapsed ancient stone pillars, the collapsed halls and the slaughtered bright world, in another story where Perturabo never arrived in the nether city of Gomor, Conrad Curze knew this gloomy and twisted king, the arrogant and sensitive general, the traitor who fled the galaxy.

Perturabo.

After decades of hard growth and long suffering, after growing up longing and mocking the illusions and prophecies given to him by fate, after waiting in two worlds apart from the entire human world, suddenly, at this moment, he was reconnected to the world, and his blood flowed in his veins.

"The city will be torn apart," Konrad murmured in a low voice, and pale fingers pushed aside the Eldar that blocked his way. "Beasts will walk on the spires, and when fate whips the dark black sun, the dying will cry for mercy. And I will stand, stand, stand and watch it all happen."

What is Perturabo doing here? He thought. Is he loyal to the false emperor, or succumbing to ignorance, or is he still ignorant of the truth of the world?

Konrad Curze smiled and walked around behind the iron thing, a rare interest that was telling him to do something unusual. He wanted to grab the iron puppet's shoulders from behind and whisper the name of the Iron Warrior on the side of his radio...

A bolt of lightning suddenly struck into the hall, directly breaking the high-hanging black sun imitation lamp. Blood-red smoke and azure brilliance erupted with great courage and artistry among the Eldar who immediately grasped their weapons and prepared for war, splashing dazzling light into the entire hall.

Conrad Coates angrily dusted off the crystal sequins and smoky powder on his head, and pulled off a pink ribbon hanging on his shoulder that was worse than damn Willis. The only thing that could comfort him was these inorganic things. The object was not stained with alien blood.

The attack, which was not an attack, spoiled all his spirits and made him abandon the idea of ​​communicating with Perturabo now.

He retreated into the darkness and quietly watched a slender figure wearing a two-color red and blue plaid tight-fitting camouflage uniform jump from above the blown-up black sun lamp, and fall lightly into the center of the hall, with the toes of his shoes touching the ground. The top of the light stand.

"Good evening, blood relatives." The strange voice of the Eldar was as melodious as a bird's song. "I am honored to see that you are willing to take time to watch the first performance of our troupe. The prelude to the doomsday has been cut on the thread of life, and we are here today. The play is a re-enactment of a legend that everyone knows... No, no, dear blood relatives, please don’t point the sharp tip of the poisonous crystal at my heart. Except for a few necessary assistants, we will not contribute a single cent to my heart. Everyone asks for it.”

The bone-white masks of the Eldar gradually turned towards the direction of Conrad Curze and the Iron Giant.

Two cards fell from the sky, floating into the shadows like falling flowers. One of them was caught by the missing finger of the mechanical giant, and the other fell into the pocket of Xue Hou's chest.

Conrad hummed softly and pulled out the card from his pocket. There is an afterimage of an old god painted on the card, with gold and red intertwined, a pointed helmet covering his face, his body like flowing fire, and full of anger.

Keiramensha, Kane.