In the nest of the three-way chaos in the Ngilli spaceport, this war-torn soil, once towering manor, birds and flowers, although it is not justice or good, but only from the perspective of the empire, those nobles as promised to maintain the huge deep space port like their ancestors are not evil, but just seek advantages and avoid disadvantages, and choose to obey the rule of Bandertar.

Now, it seems that their biggest mistake was not to die when Bandertar arrived, and still enjoy decades of ethereal life out of thin air, and finally end up being called traitors, and then killed by rune warriors or imperial guards, or psionic wizards, or legions of guards, or inquisition.

Once they valued decency above all else, the ruins of the manor house buried under the moist soil were a sign of their family's decency, and they didn't get there better than their value, compared to the clay.

It can be said that their name was already destined when Bandertar finalized the gongs and drums of the war, but they were both conscientious in their two choices, whether to die in honor or to die in disgrace, there is no doubt about this, but they are no longer decent compared to those who die for the Empire, unless they also have a son who served as a heroic captain in the Empire, and it just so happens that this child also has an inexplicably complicated relationship with the victor of this war.

In the end, though, the war still destroyed everything, and while this is a bit of a historical myth, they were all just dead, reduced to souls, dust, and nothing, and by the time the heretics set foot here again after a year or so of standard Terra time, they were gone.

It was already destined to be a chaotic place, and now its owners were the Red Pirates and the Imperial Guard, and the pattern was about to change again, less than a year, too fast for the long and cold universe, it was simply fleeting, too fast for powerless mortals, but only a tenth of their conscious life.

Once again, the war ensued, and above Garland's self-proclaimed impregnable fortress, Thunderhawk's bombardment passed through the uncovered fortress, and the military shoes tied to the rope in the fortress were blown up in a circle, and finally trapped himself completely in the rope.

And its owner is a mortal cultist who is firing from the anti-aircraft cannon next to it, and this group that has been demonized by the empire for many years still maintains the tradition of their homeland, hanging their shoes on ropes in mid-air, allowing them to be punished in their place, so that his disaster can be averted.

But this custom seemed to have had little effect, when a bomb fell from the muzzle of the Thunderhawk's cannon and smashed at his feet, embedded in the red metal like pure gold like a hammer smashed into the ground.

So far, he can still see the beautiful structure of the bomb and the beautiful tail fin, and this image became his last memory after a burst of intense light.

However, the mortal death had nothing to do with Gared, he had already left the camp, he left the area on a heavy motorcycle, under the protection of his lieutenant and personal guards, and he left when the first wave of wolf attacks came, because they both knew that this camp without space marines could not defend itself against one of the most powerful start-up warbands in the galaxy anyway.

He did not trust mortals, and at the same time he deceived mortals, and he said to his servants, please hold on unto death, and ask him, as a commander, to see that the ammunition here is empty, and that the blood is flowing here, and that the gods will favor them whether they can take down any beast or not.

But the reality was that he left the camp after he finished speaking, through a tunnel that had been dug out early, and he activated a timed corrosive gas bomb that melted the outer layer of terracotta steel, creating a faint gap in the joints of the Space Marine's armor that allowed poison gas to enter.

He expected that the things would hinder the Space Wolves, and that even the slightest hesitation in their pursuit would be a success, and that mortals would only make them feel that there were traps in this place, and for Gared, those mortals might not be as valuable as the jerky on the trap.

When he looked at the fortress again, he saw the skin of a fried potato, like a chef carving a flower knife into his fortress and putting it into the boiling hot oil pan, the explosives suddenly and shattered metal, with some of the melted material of the gas bomb that had been detonated prematurely, such as soil, mortals, or fragile ordinary metal or plastic tools.

Those intricate colors with countless war resources became a part of this not-so-gorgeous fireworks show, and Garred felt like a world away, if he stayed, then there must be a part of his flesh and blood in those things, and the most regrettable thing for him was the research room he had built improvised with various equipment.

He was like an eel leaving his own cave looking helplessly at the place where the external forces trampled on him, in his life, there is no high or low life, the bacteria or viruses that can be moisturized are very similar, even his brother is just a tool for him, a genius like him has such paranoia when he has not become a space soldier in his home planet.

But this does not mean that he has no feelings, on the contrary, his emotions are very strong, and it is precisely because he despises mortals that he will be wholeheartedly devoted to the existence of the Blackheart King and Valtex, and let them become the emotional support he needs most in his life.

It was his ruthlessness that had long been emotionally rich and contradictory as it sounded, but when the Space Wolves destroyed the camp, the emotional aggression inflicted on him by those dead brothers was probably far less painful than the melting of the blades he often used on the operating table.

At the same time, this twisted man is extremely glad that he is not a warrior, and can abandon those honors in a very fast time and choose to embrace something more sensible, that is, to live, and he installed poison gas in order to destroy his research results, so that the space wolf wolf does not get the information of the Red Pirate and any virus specimens, so that those wolf cubs with teeth and claws can get nothing, just waste projectiles and weapon reserves.

However, this was more of a self-consolation, because in any case, the Red Pirates had lost more of their time this time, a long rest area, a lot of supplies, and a lot of test items, and they had already lost their head start.

A large number of fangs pierced his neck like fangs, biting off most of the Red Pirate's life, and he had to go to that Oneeus. Praid, a former Red Scorpion, warns and helps him stabilize the front.

Like a poisonous snake, he shrank into his own pile of fallen leaves and waited for the next chance to attack, while the dirt lifted by the motorcycle flew past his armor, bringing him a pessimistic attitude about the current situation, he understood life too well, even a space marine, after a thousand years, he was nothing more than a thing turned into dirt by bacteria, but he had the responsibility and obligation to live until the day of his death for Huron's great plan, until the curse of the gods no longer took effect.

With the low roar of the engines, the troops went out from the endless horizon until they could no longer be observed, and at the same time bid farewell to their honor and victory, a temporary farewell.

And the victor of this attack was the space wolves, who, like the beasts they represented, ended the battle with great force and saturation bombardment, even so. Red Moon also felt that war was too simple, he stood on the outside of the transport gunboat, looking at the ruins on the ground and the remains of mortals, until a pungent smell brushed the tip of his nose, very thin, almost colorless and odorless, but he could feel it.

It was a vague feeling, but he was sure that something was there, and he asked the wolves to apply the ancient Fenrion plaster made by the Rune Priest to the breathing port before jumping off the plane, and the fangs did the same, and most of the Space Marines felt an uncomfortable sting sensation on their skin after they landed.

Gunnar. Red Moon instantly understood the situation, he saw that the mortal bodies on the ground had not yet decomposed, and immediately asked the fangs to start looking for those poisons, they had a sensitive sense of smell, which was the gene given to them by the original Ruth, so it was not difficult to find that thing.

And Gunnar. Red Moon also deliberately let that damn pharmacist leave, and he already knew the top name of Gared, the Lord of the Corpses, but he needed to deal with the Eternal Worm even more, Jean Dan.

He needed a camp where the Space Wolves could safely transport their rare sonic bombs to the battle line, stable, and reassuring, so this absurd place was still valuable to him.

While the fangs methodically dismantled the equipment, the Dalian governor also entered the facility, and he quickly found the laboratory of pharmacist Gared, in the dark underground blast area.

There are independent engines, embedded in a thick layer of fine gold, with a bright light and a cold touch, and the walls take on a sickly white-gray color in the reinforced metal layer, while the smell of blood mixed with the smell of detergent makes the olfactory sensitive Gunnar. Red Moon couldn't help but feel sick.

He watched a mortal body lying on the cold operating table, disemboweled, bottles and cans, sulfate toxins, scalpels and serrations, although because of the bombing of space wolves, many bottles and cans fell to the ground because of shaking, but this place can still satisfy most people's fantasy of a horror laboratory.

At this moment, he opened the filing cabinet inside the laboratory of this place and looked at the research report written in Gothic, and some of the reports on the current state of the Red Pirates made him very concerned, including Gared's research on Astarte's genetic inferiority, and how he could understand why Astarte was not as perfect as their original body.

And the space wolf is also plagued by genetic problems, their werewolf disease has driven countless brothers crazy, just like the black anger of the Holy Blood Angel, he can't help but look at this thing that should be given to the Inquisition, but he is also the head of the Creation War Regiment, and he has the right to read his loot.

Not to mention Gunnar. Red Moon's knowledge is also among the best in Dalian, and there may not be many people in the entire galaxy who can catch up with the research of the genius pharmacist's manuscript and the corpse lord Gared, but he is not among them.

And he soon witnesses Gared's atrocities against Space Marines, and he dissects many loyal Star Marines, even Red Pirate members who have lost their combat effectiveness, or War Lords who have been killed in internal struggles, and he has countless materials that have gathered together an unprecedented record of the dissection of the bodies of tens of thousands of Space Marines.

He even dismantled the genetic seeds by hand, whether they were good or bad, and through a lot of practice, Garred discovered that even the most loyal space marines, or the purest mutation-free warriors, were genetically flawed, and such variations were largely influenced by personal circumstances.

For example, the mutation of a warrior whose personality is close to the original body or has strong willpower, or even has psionic ability or a high degree of genetic compatibility will become more and more "excellent", and on the contrary, those mutations will lead to the "inferiority" of the warrior, but in any case, regardless of the individual's needs, such mutations will always exist, and it has nothing to do with the occurrence of the individual's subjective will.

And the genetic source of the Red Pirates is the gene protoplasm Robott. Killman, an Ultramarine, is theoretically the most stable of the genes, but the long-term removal of the unstable areas of the Maelstrom subspace has caused them to have irreversible genetic collapse and mutations, but such mutations are different from mortals being affected by subspace, and Space Marines theoretically have perfect psionic resistance.

Garred soon realized that this mutation was not caused by psychic energy, but that there was a so-called "mutation" in the nature of the gene, and that they had already ...... when the emperor created the genetic prototype

Gunnar. Seeing that Red Moon was fascinated, his fingers gripped the record harder and harder, but he suddenly noticed that the thick record had become blurred from the beginning of this page, and the brown paper had begun to crumble and turn into something like dust in the air.

"Damn it!" He was aware of the irreversible smell of rotting toxins in the air, and the ancient plaster on his nose soothed his body, oblivious to the fact that something was eroding the study.

But fortunately, he didn't see the second half of the report, that is, Garred realized that the emperor had the ability to make "perfect" space marines that would not mutate, but he deliberately injected the energy of the subspace in order to make those warriors more specialized and more in line with the appearance of war.

In other words, Garred believed that in the eyes of the emperor, the Star Marines who used a lot of subspace help and had filth in their genes would inevitably be destroyed on a large scale after the end of the Great Expedition, but he deliberately injected subspace psionic energy just so that the Star Marines could help him rule the galaxy, and this is the cruel Corpse Emperor, an emotionless, disgusting tyrant, and an evil god who has engulfed humanity.

Of course, it's hard to say Gunnar. Will the Red Moon believe such a heresy, but just looking at the explanation of the Emperor by the Imperial State Religion, the Star Marines who can mutate and the Space Marines who cannot reproduce are undoubtedly "non-humans" who are "failures......

(End of chapter)