- Take a look at what we got out of this expedition...... Indeed, Lord Ramizane, I almost repent of my previous rashness.

One of the black-robed crowd gathered in the shadow of the corridor next to the altar made such a sign language.

- Repentance? Does this word still exist in your vocabulary? Don't be stupid, to whom are you going to confess? Over here?

- It's really okay here, look at the shrine over there, you can confess to our genetic fathers, and although you are not allowed to wear a recorder at the meeting, I will go back and build a memorial statue to record the scene.

- You!

- and I will also place it in front of the shrine of the Lord of Iron as an offering.

- I just said "almost"!

- It's better that you still have the word confession and beware of inviting some bad things, like some of our crazy cousins.

- Om Mumm...... Have you gained some new knowledge from our Lord? Which one?

- Yes...... Of course, the Iron Lord whose soul feels more ancient, but how do you speak in imitation of Lord Ramizane?

- I just think this mouth fetish is quite kind.

- You'd better be.

The Iron Blood retains its original elegance and elegance, and with the mysterious expansion (who the hell has been expanding it with alabaster, marble, bronze and gold?). And the chapel, which has become more and more solemn, makes any visitor take his breath away when he is in it.

Even among the buildings of the state church, which are now increasingly known for their extravagance, extravagance, and religious fanaticism, there are few works that are so precisely gorgeous and unconventional, complex and uncumbersome, as if they were not built for the figurative and sustenance of the desires of worldly people, but simply to show the creator's extraordinary creativity, precise mathematical calculations, and confidence in the truly important beauty of the universe.

The chapel now has three carved Gothic doors, usually only one open for passage on a daily basis, and under the dome projected by the stars of mankind, there are now twenty-one shrines with colossus statues dressed in ancient costumes.

With the exception of the central Imperial Shrine, most of the statues in the rest of the shrines are hidden in the shadow of the elaborate canopy hanging above their heads, but the exposed parts alone can draw attention to the extraordinary harmony of the details, and the overall appearance is so magnificent.

Every sixty-six or ninety-nine feet, a statue and shrine naturally follow the march into the gaze of those who enter the chapel, and these more and more decorated works of fine artefacts are piled up but not chaotic, and they continue to be surrounded by a myriad of people and scenes that have been carved, shaped, or painted with a sense of elevation, each of which is appropriate and adds a sense of wholeness to its greatness, as if it had been carefully arranged by a gifted composer. In the end, a great conductor who can understand the composer's train of thought makes the stone and paint play an epic symphony of mankind.

The result is as if the Epic of Gilgamesh, The Ring of the Nibelungen, the Odyssey, and other famous epics and even thicker and more distant ancient poems are played together, and in every sculpture and every stroke can be seen the wonderful result tempered by the artist's genius and the passion of the times, leaping out of the inanimate carrier with vigorous vitality in a thousand gestures.

In short, this place is very different from what it was before: it is overflowing with a fresh and vigorous creativity that only human beings can have, it is as strong and rich as the creativity of God, although there are no thousands of candles and golden candlesticks, but there is the light of civilization, where darkness is expelled and rejected, and every detail of the artwork seems to have two personalities between light and shadow: truth and eternity.

Therefore, the secret gathering of the Iron Warriors after a long time can only be held under the corridors on both sides of the chapel, at least there is some shelter here, so that the black-robed people who hide their heads and faces can look more or less in line with the feeling that the secret assembly is not so justified and above board.

- So swallow ...... What's going on with those guys in the Twelfth Legion? Has anyone figured it out? God knows what I've been keeping two sensors on and staring at the guys around me, lest they're going to turn their faces and shout some slogan or worse, and rush over with their mouths open and drooling to try to give my head to the skull-loving Chaos powerhouse.

- Fighting with them really calms down quickly, just relying on grouping, proximity, and talking can get rid of superfluous distractions, it's incredible, I've always thought that it would take 10,000 years of wrath, hatred, and pain in battle to fully unleash my weapons and war machines to become stronger, but this time, with their help, my tightly controlled combat has even increased the effective efficiency by nearly 31.4 percent......

- I tried to look through any canon data I could remember and find, but I didn't understand it, how did the World Eater become the Iron Heart it is today? I'm not surprised that the war dog has become a world eater, it's incredible that I'm the way I am now, and the name has changed from the legion to the original body to the flagship, is this Angelon really the defeated original or out-of-control twisted demon lord I once knew who escaped the pain of diversion and did not want to face?

- Don't say that, but I think a comparison of Hearts of Iron now would explain why the war dogs were like crazy and learned to hit that thing in their heads. They are overly sensitive to mood swings because they don't know and no one teaches them abilities and make such unreasonable moves.

The black-robed man who used sign language to use the metaphor could not find the words when he spoke of the butcher's nail, but used a combination of "terrible, out of control, evil, chaotic, dark, and savage" to describe him, and the others understood.

- This explanation is somewhat reasonable, but there are still a few people who are very suspicious...... Let me record this speculation as the acting host, and do you remember what the Twelfth Primordial and the Legion used to be?

- Yes, it seems that at least we all remember it here, it's strange, but the Anglican bishop of Pearl Moon apparently seemed to think that Lord Angelon Petra was the true heir of the so-called Corpse Emperor's Glory and Honor, and he was so excited that he wanted to lie on the ground and kiss the Twelfth Primordial Lord's boots on tiptoe.

- I saw it too, it was a bit subtle, and it reminded me of some other people. To be honest, I don't think Mistress Angron himself really likes to deal with this group of people, but he is very polite and restrains himself.

- So the contradiction between these two memories is indeed an existential and suspicious point, and we should all pay attention to any other clues afterwards.

- Agreed. Let me also remind you that we have a new operational meeting ahead of us on how to bring the next planet under our control.

- You mean Carrick? The government there is not as easy to handle as Pearl Moon.

- yes, but I think I can finally blast something away with a missile.

- That's great news, hopefully.

(End of chapter)