Carlil calmly watched as the iron bird took off.

It doesn't rely on the flapping of its wings to gain momentum for flight, and the four steel wings vibrate only because of the programme. Roger Dorn stood beside him, gazing alongside him as it went, speechless.

The cold wind howled, and the shouts of merchants under the city walls were heard clearly. The devout believers who come from far and wide bow down here, usually with a book hanging from their waists.

It was the work of Lorja Aurelian, who had the privilege of preaching in an empire where religion was strictly forbidden, ironically.

As soon as this emperor worship religion appeared, it quickly reacted with the deification of the emperor that had already existed in the empire, and the two merged to produce a sect that was unimaginably complex, but these believers actually got along with each other in harmony.

Dorn didn't know where this was going to end up, but for him, if it was the Emperor's acquiescence, let it continue.

Faith makes the majority strong.

The Fist of the Empire's protogenitor pondered, tilting his head and watching the falcon disappear between the mountains before retracting his gaze.

He looked at Karil Lohals, whose expression gave him a rare and rare urge at this moment - Dorne didn't suppress himself, he asked bluntly.

"You seem to be a little sad." He asked without inquiry.

"Is it so obvious?" Carlil replied with a little surprise. "I thought I had covered it up well enough."

Dorne nodded, and said nothing more, as if that sentence was enough.

He didn't ask the reason, didn't get to the bottom of it, didn't even bother to say a superfluous word, just continued to lower his head and began to fiddle with the instrument in his hand. After a few minutes, he put it down. A young man in bright yellow armor walked over.

He wears an MK3 but does not wear a helmet. There was a cautious look on that face, and Dorne knew that it wasn't just because he was about to speak to his Primordial.

"Your Excellency." The young man greeted in a very serious voice, almost like a battle report. "There's a group of barbarians making trouble in the second laborer's quarters."

"Where did it come from?" Dorne asked succinctly.

"From Dolhold." Said the young man. "They are asking us to distribute more food and money or go on strike."

"Have they been deducted from their wages?"

"As far as I know, no." The young man frowned. "They did a good job before, and we rewarded them according to the rules."

"Greed." Dorne shook his head. "Warn once, if you make trouble again, you will rely on the law to punish you."

"Yes." The young man bowed his head, saluted, and left.

Dorn watched him walk away and nodded slowly.

"Sigismund." He spat out a name, his tone changing slightly.

"A recruit, but very talented and with very good grades. Even if I arranged for him to be the head of security instead of a company commander or non-commissioned officer, he had no complaints. If all goes well, in about four months, he will be able to participate in the sweep of the Taiping Star Domain with the main force. ”

"Why did you mention this to me?"

"He's been watching you out of the corner of his eye, Carlile, don't say you didn't notice that."

"He's curious about me?"

Dorne turned his head and glanced Carlil up and down. It would be offensive for this kind of gaze to appear on other people, but not for him.

Roger Dorn's integrity and his unturning personality have given him more 'tolerable' places. Carlil stood still, and even raised his hand to accept the review generously.

"Your height." After examining it, Dorn explained.

"That's the first thing he's curious about you, you're too tall, Carlile. I think Vulcan may be the only one who can compete with you in terms of height, but you don't look strong. ”

"Most civilians who have never seen Astarte will suffer from a disease called superhuman phobia when they see them in person. They develop a fear of Astarte and believe that they are not human. There are many mistakes in this matter, but it is still understandable. It is impossible for a civilian to understand the existence of the Astartes."

Dorne paused, his tone becoming a little less resolute. He seemed to feel a little uncomfortable with what he was about to say, but he still forced himself to finish.

"Astarte is so much superior to them." The original said in a slightly painful manner, and then quickly returned to normal.

"I don't like it, but that's the way it is. And for the Astartes, your presence also triggers their superhuman phobia. You're too tall, not strong, but dangerous. And you are not the original body, this is clear at a glance. ”

"See it at a glance?"

"Yes, you can see it at a glance." Dorne sighed. "Anyone, even a barbarian who never reads, realizes something when they see a genetic protogen. It's as if someone has programmed it for them, and worship, disgust, and love will well-spring out of their hearts. ”

"Then, on the second point, you're from Midnight Blade, and you're their instructor. Sigismund was born during the War of Unification, and he was later orphaned. He was once approached by a recruiter in the Eighth Legion, but he was a better match for my genetic seed in the test, so he came to the Imperial Fist. I'm afraid that's the second reason why he's curious about you. ”

"Is there a third point?" Carlil asked with a slight smile.

"Yes." Dorne nodded earnestly. "You stand with me."

Carlil finally couldn't help but smile: "Someone even says you don't have a sense of humor, Rogge. ”

"I really don't." Dorn turned his head away, continuing to keep his face expressionless. "I'm just trying to make you less sad."

"You've made it." Carlil replied softly. "Do you have any arrangements for the afternoon, Rogge?"

"No, my job is almost done. I've submitted the blueprints for Terra's fortifications, and if my father still needs it, he'll send the Praetorian Army to me. ”

"So, how about doing us a favor?"

——

A dense crowd surrounded a large training cage, with four specially reinforced steel pillars supporting its edges and spiky iron netting forming the walls.

The banner of the Imperial Fists and the banner of the Midnight Blade fluttered slowly above the training cage. Needless to say, you can also understand what this venue is for.

There were two warriors standing in the training cage, the one on the left was muscular, with a very visible burn on his chest, which was the mark of the Imperial Fist, and in his hand he held a blunt sword for training.

The one standing on the right is very pale and thinner. His muscles looked smoother, his arms falling naturally, and two short knives pressed against his wrists.

"Give him some hardship, Shen." Sevita whispered from the audience. "You're the first to take the stage, and if you lose, you're dead, understand?"

Shen looked at it without saying a word, his gaze was very long, and Sevita frowned, and his anger flashed. Just as it was about to surge, Shen nodded.

"I'll try my best." He said.

The battle began in half a minute, and neither warrior was wearing armor, adding to the overly intense color of the battle.

Shen's opponent is named Alcturo, and he is also a new recruit. He fights fiercely, a far cry from the rigidity of Sevita's imaginary Fist of the Empire. His moves were all made with the intent to win, and he trained the blunt sword to dance in the air like a poisonous snake.

Compared to him, Shen played a little harder, but still didn't lose his own style.

Calm, calm, and undisturbed by the opponent's continuous attacks, Sevita still couldn't figure out how Shen would win.

The key to combat is to control distance, and sword pairs have an innate advantage in distance over short swords, and this advantage cannot be erased at will.

Alcturo could easily use the advantage of attack range to drive Shen into his comfortable distance, but Shen couldn't rush forward and let the short knife exert its most terrifying power. He had to be careful at all times to keep himself from being hit by the blunt sword.

Sevita turned her head cautiously and glanced to the right of the crowd. There were three people standing side by side: Roger Dorne, Conrad Coetzes, and Karil Lohals.

The Fist of the Empire's genetic protoplasm is serious, as rumored. But so did the monarchs of the Nightblades.

In fact, Sevita couldn't think of a moment when Conrad Coates looked more serious than he did today—not even when he reprimanded Sevita and Shen that day.

Karil Lohals was different, leaning against the wall with his hands folded and watching the battle, as confident as ever.

Sevita was at ease. He withdrew his gaze and began to watch the battle as Shen befell him beyond his expectations - he was forced into a corner by Alcturo.

It's not fair! Sevita grinned indignantly and sneered.

Recruit? What recruit wields his sword so skillfully as if he had killed hundreds of people? He must have experienced more than one real combat mission!

Damn, Shen, confuse him with your steps! Approach him, use your best analytical methods to bring this bastard down, and give him a taste of the greetings of the Nostramo people!

Putting aside Saivita's slander of the Imperial Fist for the time being, he turned his gaze back to Shen.

In the midst of the battle, he had no way to retreat, his back already resting against the spikes of the iron mesh, the stinging pain reminding him that it was time for you to step forward.

The same is true of his opponent, who stands upright with his sword in both hands. There was an invitation in his eyes that was ready to be sent - he seemed to hope that Shen would take the initiative to attack once to draw a perfect end to this battle.

Want me to be a decent stepping stone?

Shen smiled.

He withdrew his swords, and for the second time in the fight, kept them close to his wrists, holding them in an unusual way. His thumb, ring and little fingers hold the hilt, and his index and middle fingers are against the face of the knife.

Alcturo frowned, wondering what his opponent meant, why he had taken the initiative to put away his weapon in such a suicidal way—but he wasn't prepared to wait any longer.

The Imperial Fist spun its wrist and stepped forward. The waist is vigorous, the muscles are bulging, and the arms are swinging, and the sword is pulled out like a hammer. Sevita's eyes narrowed, and she was already thinking about how she was going to lose face when she got there.

However, he did not see the miserable defeat he had imagined.

Sevita's eyes widened.

Facing the blade, Shen did not retreat. He faced the blade of his sword, lowered his body and rushed forward. Alcturo's indomitable sword momentum did not stop at the sudden charge of the enemy, and it still slashed down in a predetermined trajectory.

But Shen was no longer in the same place, and Alcturo let out a short, rapid cry, as if in confusion.

He didn't understand why his mediocre opponent could burst out with such speed all at once, but Sevita and the others in the audience could see it clearly—Shen didn't avoid Alcturo's blade by speed at all, but with pace.

A sliding-like pace.

Sevita didn't look any further, he already knew who was going to win. He turned his head to look at their instructor, and happened to see a smile from Carlil.

On stage, Alcturo fell as if he had been electrocuted. The Nightblades erupted in a tsunami-like roar of joy and rejoicing, and Sevita was the loudest of them all.

Just now, Shen immediately stabbed his opponent with a short knife after dodging the blade, and although the short knife did not open the blade, the impact it brought was still not to be underestimated. Alcturo's body had begun to get horrible bruises.

Shen silently inserted the short knife back into his belt and picked up the training short sword again. It looked like he wanted to return it to Alcturo, or in Alcturo's outstretched palm.

However, at this moment, a stopping voice sounded in the audience.

"You don't have to do that, Shen of the Midnight Blade." One person in the crowd said. "I'm going to use it again."

Shen looked towards the audience and saw a young man walking towards him. He took off his clothes as he walked.

He had short, dark blonde hair that was messy and looked almost like he had been blown by the wind for hours. He was also very handsome, and his eyes were royal blue, but there was no hesitation in them.

Shen frowned.

His back, which had just straightened, unconsciously bent down again, and he had entered a fighting stance again. The crowd of onlookers fell silent for a moment because of the young man's words, and it was Sevita who broke the silence.

"Who are you?" He yelled unceremoniously. "The rules don't say it's a wheel war, and besides, it's a recruit exchange meeting, you look a little too old, don't you?"

"Is appearance important to us?" It looked like a young man who was far away, and at the moment, he was in the training cage. Alcturo was dragged out by him and handed over to the other emperors in the audience.

"I am indeed a recruit of the Fist of the Empire, I have not been on a combat mission, my name is Sigismund. Now, I want to fight you, Shen of Midnight Blade. ”

He stretched out his hand towards Shen and asked him for the sword that had belonged to Alcturo: "Would you like to?" ”

Shen nodded at him, handed the blade over, and immediately turned his head before Sevita could speak, and said something to him.

"The rules don't say it's okay to fight wheels, Sevita."

"You-" Sevita took a deep breath. "-well, then you can fight, for the sake of the eternal night, I will pray for you."

Silently turning his head back, Sigismund nodded politely to him, blunt sword in his right hand, the tip of the sword hanging to the ground, standing in a relaxed position.

"Shen?" He spoke. "Is it just Shen?"

"Yes."

"You have a rare name, it's short, but it's also easy to remember. How did you beat Alcturo just now? Steps alone don't do the kind of gliding effect. ”

"It's a secret, and I can't tell it."

Shen removed the short knife from his waist and raised his fists as if he was about to fight a boxing fight. The spine of the knife was pressed against his wrist, and he stared at Sigismund's wrist and shoulder, his eyes almost sharp.

"Are you here to fight me, or are you here to ask questions?"

"It's all there." Sigismund replied.

In the next second, the battle began instantly.

The blunt sword and the short knife collided with each other, like the beat of a drum in a song, and the heart beats. Shen's face condensed into a hideous mask, and he was rarely so full of mood swings. The dagger danced and was airtight, and he really began to attack.

His stance was wild, a far cry from his repeated concessions against Alctulo. The two knives sliced through each other's air like a whirlwind, whirring, and even if they hadn't opened their blades, they couldn't hide their bloodthirsty hearts at the moment.

Sigismund was very calm, he barely waved his arms wide open, and all the resistance and attacks were brought about by the light movement of his shoulders and wrists.

The blades and daggers continued to collide, and in the flickering and moving of the moment, the chatter in the audience gradually subsided, and the people began to watch the battle intently. At the other end of the audience, Siani and Richtenar, who were standing together, shook their heads together.

"Shen is going to lose." Siani said with a slight sigh. "I thought his growth speed and talent were amazing enough, but I didn't expect that there would be someone who could be better."

Richtenor kept his mouth shut, staring coldly at the man on the stage wielding his sword, with a rare longing in his eyes.

This longing was not the same excitement he had when he faced Carlil, but a different kind of fervent fervor trying to hunt - his gaze was so sharp that it seemed to skin Sigismund and cramp and eat him alive.

Siani naturally felt the gaze, he sighed, and said, "You're not going to be like this, are you, Richter?" This is an exchange meeting for new recruits. ”

"He's not going to be a recruit anytime soon." Richtenar replied to Siani's words in a soft voice, and at the same time he began to walk forward.

"What are you going to do? You don't want to bother the fight, do you, Richtenar, you're crazy? ”

"Nope." Richter said without looking back. "I'm just going to remind Sevitalyon that there is probably no one else on our two teams of recruits who can fight this guy named Sigismund."

There is one more chapter.

(End of chapter)