Chapter 269 Immortality

Mechanical Perturabo thought twice before trying to connect the cable on his head to Vulkan's Fireforged interface. (っ◔◡◔)っ

When the data flow was successfully connected to Perturabo's brain after several lags, Perturabo breathed a sigh of relief, closed his eyes, and began to adapt to the data model and transmission protocol used here.

Fortunately, the Fireforge's cogitator array structure is not completely different from the initial settings of the Glory Queen-class battleship when it first appeared: obviously, Vulkan did not insist on constantly analyzing the data inside the ship. The structure needs to be iteratively upgraded, otherwise, it cannot guarantee that it can be connected to it without loss.

This was why he chose to borrow Vulkan's ship instead of Ferrus Manus's.

When he and Morse borrowed Konrad Curze's perspective and saw the smell of engine oil and hot clouds inside the Iron Fist, and heard the ubiquitous sound of forging, he knew about the Primarch of the Iron Hand. , he has definitely carried out countless personalized private designs and strict data protection on his ships.

He moved his fingers and picked up the forging hammer that Volgan kindly borrowed. He held it in his hand to feel the weight, and used a cable to drive the forge to start operating. He also looked at the weapons and armor hanging on the walls and shelves of the forging room.

Beautiful yet simple, heavy yet practical, and many of them are simply hand-forged without much technology.

In terms of pure forging, Perturabo had to admit that he was ashamed of himself.

He sighed softly, turned around, and carefully fished out the raw materials sealed in the obsidian box from the dense material. He had never used this raw material and was not familiar with its actual properties. He only made some rough calculations based on data.

In a sense, this forging was also a challenge for him.

Someone tapped his robotic leg.

Perturabo's mind was racing, and after a moment, he turned around carefully and lowered his head.

Mortal Faas raised his head and took back his hand.

+You haven't changed much. +he said.

"In my subjective consciousness, time has only been a month." Perturabo avoided some surrounding objects and tried to find a space that allowed him to squat.

Face took the initiative to stand on a high table to facilitate the conversation.

+What are you doing? +he asked.

"I..." Perturabo looked at the surrounding environment, "I want to make use of my previous gains, Faas."

Face nodded slightly, and a pure blue lightning gathered and beat in his palm. He threw the lightning and struck it into the raw materials prepared by Perturabo.

The ripples of the electric arc spread rapidly on the surface of the material, the storm-like silver light outlines the flickering border, and the midnight blue electric light is engraved on the inside and outside of the material, flowing gracefully.

"Thank you for your help," Perturabo said immediately. No matter what changes the Emperor made to this material, it was undoubtedly an extremely valuable gift.

+No problem. +he said. +Where is he? +

"You didn't see him?" Perturabo frowned, "I thought during the duel between Konrad and Vulkan..."

+He murmured. There was no trace of him. +

"I'm here." There was a ripple in the air, and Morse's black robe came out of the shadows. "What's the matter, Emperor?"

+ Let's talk. +The emperor said, and the figure turned into mist and escaped into the vast void outside the ship.

Morse snorted. "Mortal." He whispered, turning into a shadow as well.

Morse and the Emperor stood unprotected in the cosmic environment, watching the magnificent and huge figures of the three Glory Queen-class battleships with different styles, the Emperor's Pride, the Forged of Fire, and the Iron Fist. In front of us, thousands of ships of various types in the expedition fleet were dispersed in an orderly manner, filling the gaps in the universe.

"It's quiet," Morse said. In an environment lacking air, his voice still reached the emperor's ears in some form, but all the noise and subtle noises were eliminated, leaving only the pure language itself.

This intensifies a different kind of silence.

"Yes." The emperor looked far into the distance, taking in a panoramic view of the empire's expedition fleet and the stars behind the fleet. "How much do you remember about Moro?"

"A terrible opening, Emperor," Morse said. "I think that's my answer."

The emperor nodded silently, and Morse then asked: "I also have a question."

He reached into the void, pulled out a book from the flowing etheric currents, stroked the living spine on the spine that kept the entire book alive, and handed it to the Emperor.

A hazy golden light shone in the emperor's dark eyes.

"It," he said, "was an unexpected surprise."

Despite this, he did not reach out to take it. Sure enough, Morse took back the album, folded his hands on his chest, and put the album into his arms.

"At your suggestion, Erda drew a map of Purgatory." Morse said, tilting his head. "Then she discovered something that prompted her to throw the album into the void until it went around in circles. , conveyed by the Laughing God of the Eldar, fell into the hands of me and Perturabo."

"Although she..." he omitted some words, "but it still makes me very curious about what she discovered or misunderstood."

"Same thing," the Emperor replied, holding out his left hand to Morse. Morse looked at him in disbelief for a while, then patted the map of Purgatory into his palm.

"What's the same thing?"

"Your problem, and my problem." The Emperor took the atlas and flipped through it casually. Under his rough fingers, the flexible pages followed his will, offering him a secret of the giant web snake that shuttled through the universe. Not long after, he closed the book with some emotion on his face.

"They are one thing." Morse asked.

"Plans." The Emperor answered irrelevantly, "Plans will always go wrong. So we must foresee the failure of plans, and then find ways to fill the gaps. Over and over again, let plans and plans nest with each other until we reach the end of manpower and leave the rest of the fate to the response to the timing."

He turned around and faced the forging hall of the Fire Forge. There, Perturabo had already started his work.

He focused, without looking sideways, and put all his thoughts, all his brain branches, and the huge thinking that was enough to start commanding an entire fleet at the most subtle point, into this creation.

"At the beginning of the plan, they were not sons," said the Emperor. "Weapons, tools, weapons; even subordinates, friends, and courtiers. Only not offspring, not relatives."

"The plan has changed." Mors whispered, "They... have become too vivid."

"You should have the same experience." The Emperor glanced at him.

He continued: "Similarly, in the plan, the Webway is not just a set of roads. It has greater potential."

"You are more familiar with the Eldar, you have the final say." Mors shrugged, "The art of fighting, the language of the Prophet. You have demonstrated all of this."

"You, me, the Primarch, the Webway, Constantine Valdor. These are the core of the plan, and they cannot be damaged or lost. Therefore, I need to thank you for your contribution to retrieving the Primarch for me." The Emperor said, blinking gently.

"New information." Mors smiled, then snorted softly. "Should I thank you for remembering me?"

The Emperor pretended not to hear this sentence.

"And the ending of the plan, Conrad Curze gave an answer. If that heavy picture is indeed in line with my vision, then I... am satisfied with it."

"Okay, okay, I don't want to hear why you are satisfied to hear that you killed your son," Morse said, "and you won't tell."

"No, it's not..."

"Let's take a look at Perturabo." Morse said. "His work is progressing very quickly, and the prototype can be seen. A pair of claws, very good, very suitable for Conrad."

"Using the fragments of Anaris of the Dawn... a group of rare stellar cores that have been pre-processed." The Emperor nodded, "I attached lightning runes to it."

"Speaking of this, Perturabo - the one in the Empire, how many gifts has he given to his brother in the past twenty years?"

The Emperor suddenly laughed. "Wait for you to find out, Morse."

"Okay, remember not to kill yourself in the plan." Morse said as if inadvertently, and before he finished speaking, he immediately turned and walked towards the ship.

The Emperor was a step slower than him, so he simply stayed where he was and didn't chase him.

“Nothing is eternal.” He replied calmly, and his fabricated body turned into a golden breeze and dissipated in the dark universe.