Detecting the truth is a rather sneaky thing. Secretly investigate, interview people in the know, drugs, hypnosis, bribes with money or force to coerce, and then threaten loved ones

Even more unfortunate is the fact that a significant part of humanity is extremely obsessed with these methods.

They are insanely obsessed with investigating the matter itself, not the truth. For these people, the pleasure of investigation and torture is far greater than the discovery of the truth itself, and the power granted to them by conducting an investigation also gives them a certain sense of superiority over the multitude.

It's a ridiculous mistake, but isn't that what human nature is?

But Carlil had no intention of criticizing them.

It doesn't matter, he doesn't care. After all, he is also a seeker of truth.

If necessary, he will do whatever it takes.

He walked coldly among the ruins, his figure erratic. If it weren't for the footsteps of the Bearers, he would have turned into a shadow and drifted away. Yet, despite his deliberate slowdown, the Whisperers seemed slow behind him.

This was normal, the gap between him and Astarte was far greater than that between Astarte and mortals, which should not have been compared, but he couldn't help it.

His mind was like a monster in the dark, and countless bloody thoughts that shouldn't have been born swirled in the claws and teeth of this monster. If it weren't for the ice binding, the monster would have broken out long ago.

Fortunately, he was in the eternal winter, and the 'blade' itself could represent many images, and its pale whiteness was born out of a certain part of the memory of the Lord of Mankind. Combined with his own will, the monster is quite safe at the moment

However, it will come out one day. The question is, when?

As always, the human named Karil Lohals has no answer.

He stopped, standing still in front of the vanishing mountains. Hermot Lacruz was still reciting those verses, fanatical and hateful. They walked all the way, and he read all the way, and seeing the ruins of the City of Perfection again seemed to only make his faith more religious.

Carlil laughed a little at this—what a fanatic. But hatred yes, he should hate. And, in a way, he should also chant sutras.

With a strange sense of humor, he slowly crouched down and picked up a white ash with his right hand.

The clawed handnails of white bones and dark shadows were covered in them, and there was nothing but death but dust. A terrifying sight, but it was exactly what he needed.

He clenched his right hand, the ashes heating in his palm. He cautiously threw aside the power surging in his body, rejecting their requests to help him, and continued to use the psionic powers that had grown stronger in recent years.

The wind rose up, summoned from the tide by a supernatural force that shouldn't exist, and it blew coldly, the wind so strong that it almost knocked the Bearers down, but Carlil stood still in the storm.

He was unaffected, not even the Cloak of Shadows fluttered. It still lazily sat behind him, hanging to the ground, waiting to be aroused.

The ashes swelled up like seawater, forming gray-white tidal waves, almost obscuring his figure, except for two bits of cold blue light.

They coldly peeked through the ash tide, refused any resistance, and forced the ashes to disperse with some kind of will, and the ashes that did not want to leave were forced to be carried to all parts of the ruins by the psionic energy, and the tide finally dissipated completely at this moment.

The ashes dispersed, revealing the true nature of an eight-pointed star inscribed on the surface that could not fade.

Crystal clear, pure, reflecting the sun.

It could have been carved into a rock or something, but the star was supposed to fade when the Night's Blade and the Ultramarines' ships rained down on the sky with a rain of fire. But it didn't, it survived.

It retains its original shape in silica cast by a high-temperature flame.

Why?

Angle's breathing grew heavy, and a string in his head snapped in a defying sight.

Angrily, he pulled out the blaster from his waist and began to fire at the star, which was unscathed in the midst of the massive gunfire. The Bearer let out a roar of rage, pouring all the bullets out in one go.

Glass shards splashed, explosive bombs sank deep into the ground, bullet casings hit the ground, making a crisp sound, and the eight-pointed star still standing, the light still there, as if mocking. So Angle Tay didn't hesitate to change the magazine and wanted to try again, but Batusa Narek stopped him.

"It doesn't make sense, brother."

He whispered to Angle Tay sadly and empathetically, his right hand resting on his blaster. Obviously, if Ingrel Tay hadn't been the first step, he would have been the one who shot him.

"It may not exist here, we can see it, but we can't touch it. And, even if it exists, what's the point of destroying it? ”

"Whoever is obscene will be burned." The hermit entered their conversation coldly and forcefully, gesturing the Imperial Eagle with his hands on his chest. "It's an iron law, Batusa Narek, don't forget. If I hear you say anything like that again, I'll kill you. ”

Carlil did not comment on their conversation, nor did he prevent the petty dispute that would erupt between Batusa and the hermit that would erupt next, and he had no time to attend to these trivial matters now.

He just continued to clench his right hand, calmly and keeping the psionic energy working, and under his compulsion, the psionic energy and the ashes were compressed to a certain limit, and after a few seconds, he finally opened his hand, and the ashes had turned into a muddy, miserable white gem.

At this moment, Anglel Tai also ended his anger. He came to him, with his head bowed, hesitating.

Carlil could see the emotion in his heart, so he chose to speak himself: "Remember what I said, Anglel Tray?" ”

"I remember." The Bearer looked up at the gem. "So, this is the trail?"

"Not yet." Carlil shook his head. "It will not be easy to find the man who has planted the trouble, he is in a high position in your legion, and at least participated in the construction of the Perfect City. But did you notice any trace before today? ”

Batusa Narek muttered in a tone of hatred and fear: "A shadow."

"Yes, a shadow." Carlil looked at him approvingly, the gem still lingering in his hand.

But he couldn't hide himself completely, and he couldn't completely hide all traces. That star represents many fallen things, but only one is definitely not enough, there must be more hidden stars near the perfect city. ”

"But you were then—" Ingrel Tay swallowed a mouthful of saliva that was almost like blood, and threw away the honorific title. "—I mean, why didn't you point out the evidence at that time?"

Carlil looked at him with pity, and did not answer the question.

The 'hermit' let out that cruel laugh again, and the sound was eerily similar to thunder.

"It was just a test and we didn't pass it. It's that simple, Ingrel Tay. The hopes you have raised do nothing to the state of affairs at the time. Are you right, my lord? ”

Carlil did not respond, Hemot Lacruz was an extreme fanatic, and although his words could be counted as correct to some extent, he could not agree with them.

He just clenched his right hand again, and a crisp sound like a glass crack spread, stirring through the air.

A shudder descended on Angle's back, and he threw away the old priest's words, and began to gaze intently at the clenched hand, his heart stirring with emotions that could no longer be described simply as 'hope' or 'despair'.

He is far superior to them.

A moment later, the light shone brightly. Flashing shards burst out from the cracks between the fingers, turning into countless fiery crimson meteors and quietly moving away.

Carlil looked at them, slowly exhaling a syllable, his voice quaint, like the whispers of the dead eons ago, and the next second, whether it was the priest, Batusa, or Angel Tai, they all sensed that something was being born.

With these thoughts, Anglel Tai saw a sudden mist appear.

They were pervasive, cold and silent as they began to coalesce beneath their feet, almost as if the air was condensing into ice, and the glowing mist began to stretch straight forward along the crimson meteors in the sky, as if they were being guided.

Five minutes later, a route slowly spread out. Complete, magnificent, wonderful.

+ These psionic spells given by Machado really work. +

Watching this scene, Carlil gave his own evaluation and advice to someone on the other side of the galaxy.

+ You should really let him take the time to write this book, at least some of the knowledge in our old folks' heads can be passed on. +

+ I'm not old. + And the man said. + I'm still young. +

+ Makado said that this sentence is about the same. +

The man chuckled, and there was a banging sound in the illusory channel of psionic energy.

It took him a moment to answer Carlil's little joke, and his voice became a little more unreal, as if he had to be distracted by some kind of work that required so much concentration.

+ Knowledge is different from ordinary heritage, Carlil. Some knowledge should be hidden, and even if it is to be passed on, it can only be passed on to a few. As for you, I wish you good luck. +

+Do you think I can't find him.+

+ They will help, so why should He be found by you now? +

+ Do you know who that man is? +

+If I knew.+

The man smiled coldly and hung up the communication.

"Let's go." Carlil said, looking at the Bearers. "If we follow this path, even if we can't get the truth, we can at least get some clues."

"But what if we can't get it?" Batusa Narek asked, vaguely confused.

"Just go." Hermot Lacruz said. "Confusion is a shameful weakness, so from now on silently recite the name of the Emperor of God, Batusa. You will be strong under his gaze. ”

With that, he was the first to embark on the path of the mist. Stride forward, never look back, hold your head high.

Yes, yards.

I'm getting healthier and healthier with my update time, happy

(End of chapter)