[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-i-m-in-warhammer-please-don-t-praise-the-dora-te":3,"chapter-i-m-in-warhammer-please-don-t-praise-the-dora-te-i-m-in-warhammer-please-don-t-praise-the-dora-te-chapter-152":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","I'm in Warhammer, Please Don't Praise the Doraemon Machine God",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2264975,4422,"Chapter 152: How to Dial a Phone Correctly","i-m-in-warhammer-please-don-t-praise-the-dora-te-chapter-152",152,"\u003Cp>The colossal statue of the Archangel stands to the east of Angel’s Descent Town, partially obscuring the crimson mist.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But even without the crimson mist clinging to it, this small town still does not resemble a holy city.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Its buildings are low, crooked, and crumbling—even along the widest street, Saint Gilles Avenue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Had Saint Gilles never descended here, it might have evaporated like a single drop of water under the sun “Balor.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The streets are sparsely populated, some locals, others pilgrims from other worlds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the Blood Scorpion Tavern beside the Peace Market, local drunks sip small cups of Bal’s native liquor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This liquor is made from everything imaginable gathered from the Crimson Hotlands—low in water, high in alcohol, packed with strange impurities, thick as clotted blood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But for Planet Bal II, a world starved of water, this is a rare luxury; the high alcohol lets one forget the misery of life, if only for a while.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Lately, many refugees have come—from the Underworld. They keep muttering about some kind of insect.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Muttering about insects is the least of it—some have even crowned a new saint unrecognized by the State Church, called… Doraemon?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, yes! Those worshippers of Saint Doraemon even have a group preaching in our town. Why don’t the Angels do something?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The Angels have been increasing lately too—always busy.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“SsHHH!” The alcohol began to take effect; a patron with a prominent scar tore his lips open in a shout.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the roar of a dropship landing outside drowned out his cry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He licked his lips, curious, and glanced out the window.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then immediately pulled his gaze back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For he saw a group of tall warriors clad in silver-and-red powered armor, caked in dried blood, marching toward Angel’s Descent Town.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Angels?” asked the bald man across from him, curious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yeah, more Angels. So many Angels.” The scarred patron nodded.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Angel’s Descent Town is directly governed by the Holy Blood Angels; occasionally, one might glimpse the offspring of Archangels.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But lately, there have been far more—so many the scarred patron felt he’d seen at least a hundred. In the past, he’d rarely seen one or two.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They’ve come to honor their father, the Holy Archangel.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The tavern owner nodded approvingly—a man with a thick beard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It is a miracle. We are fortunate to witness it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Speaking of Angels—my grandfather once took part in the Angels’ Call.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The scarred man grinned, as if boasting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Too bad he and his comrades encountered a juvenile fire-scorpion. They nearly won—but in the end, he lost both legs. Of course, the third was fine; otherwise, I wouldn’t exist.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh? Really?” The bald man raised an eyebrow, dismissive. “I myself took part in the Angels’ Call.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My comrades and I put down a juvenile fire-scorpion—maybe even the same one that burned your grandfather.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fire-scorpions grow slowly and live long; juveniles are about three meters, adults up to eight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I misremembered! My grandfather nearly defeated an adult fire-scorpion!” the scarred patron quickly corrected.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then I misremembered too—I took down an adult fire-scorpion with my comrades.” The bald man shot back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I could take down an adult fire-lizard alone!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bald man nearly laughed out loud.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He pointed at the scarred patron and mocked: “Why not say you’re an Archangel? I took down an adult fire-lizard alone when I was ten!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The scarred patron’s face flushed crimson. He slammed his fist on the table and stood, roaring: “I dare touch the venom gland of a fire-scorpion!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Instantly, every eye in the tavern turned to the scarred patron.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, the tavern door swung open, a heavy shadow blotting out the sunlight at the threshold.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Fine. Show us.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A mocking voice came from outside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A man in a yellow shirt, short hair, glasses, eyes half-lidded with drowsiness, stepped inside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A laser rifle hung from his shoulder; his other hand dragged behind him the object blocking the tavern’s sunlight.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Sharp-eyed patrons recognized it at once: a fire-scorpion’s tail.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man yanked hard, dragging a five-meter-long fire-scorpion into the tavern, across the tables.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The entire tavern stared, dumbfounded. They noticed a grotesque blood-hole in the scorpion’s head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The edges were charred—clearly a single laser rifle shot, precisely struck the neural node.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Silence fell. All eyes fixed on the man who had single-handedly slain a fire-scorpion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To kill a fire-scorpion alone was a challenge even the most skilled hunters on Bal dared not attempt—and even then, they often suffered grave wounds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This scorpion was clearly adult. The man didn’t just kill it—he dragged it back alone from deep within the crimson mist.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man merely smiled, tugged the tail again, and looked at the stunned scarred patron.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gestured with his eyes toward the venom gland on the scorpion’s tail.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The scarred patron’s face twisted with fear. He waved his hands frantically.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A chorus of boos rose through the tavern. The scarred patron turned beet red with shame.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How could he have known?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How could anyone suddenly drag in a fire-scorpion like this?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Damn it—he’d been sitting by the window. He should’ve seen it coming. This felt like sorcery.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Yun smiled, dragging the scorpion to the tavern’s counter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d hunted it on the way here; its head had slammed into his laser rifle’s muzzle. “Can you handle this?” he asked, pointing at the giant scorpion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bearded tavern owner nodded. “Large one. Adult for a while, but not old. My cooking makes it delicious.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Remove the venom gland, gut it, sprinkle powdered Bal bloodgrass, bury it whole in thick sand, then heat it with the scorpion’s own venom-fire. Believe me—on all of Bal II, you won’t find better.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hearing this, Zhou Yun smiled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Give me a drink, then prepare this scorpion. I’ll buy everyone here a meal. Whatever’s left is yours.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Generous!” the tavern owner praised. He signaled a few regulars to help carry the scorpion to the kitchen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Not from Bal, are you?” the tavern owner asked, pouring Zhou Yun a cup of thick liquor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“From Asford.” Zhou Yun sipped the potent, viscous liquid. The alcohol burned his tongue—nearly as strong as General Drostr’s bottle of Aksema.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Neos Daxiong. Renowned gunner, Teyao  sleep specialist to Viceroy Augustus, legendary string-flipping master, educator of twenty-one successful children.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Educator of children?” The tavern owner raised an eyebrow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course. Four of my students now hold executive positions in four of the galaxy’s most famous corporations.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>!.read\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But my proudest achievement? I taught a child how to dial a phone correctly.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The tavern owner raised an eyebrow, not understanding why dialing a phone correctly was worth pride.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He merely nodded. “That’s impressive.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t underestimate phone dialing. One day, doing it right might decide the fate of the entire galaxy!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Yun stared seriously at the tavern owner.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The tavern owner looked utterly baffled—he simply couldn’t fathom how dialing a phone related to the galaxy’s fate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Yun took another sip, then said to the tavern owner: “That child was born with intellectual disability.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ah! That explains it,” the tavern owner exclaimed in sudden understanding.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The winged figure within Bai Guang trembled slightly, as if barely holding back laughter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What a crisp birdcall, Zhou Yun thought, sipping his drink.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The winged figure’s birdcall grew urgent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon, Zhou Yun smelled a rich, fragrant aroma drifting from the kitchen, stinging his nostrils.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was spicy, pungent, with a strange salty-savory scent.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a while, the tavern owner directed his staff to bring out plates of scorpion meat on clay dishes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He himself carried a large platter solemnly to Zhou Yun’s table and poured a cup of thick liquor over the meat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The scorpion meat was succulent, like giant crab flesh—pale, tender, fragrant, dusted with a local Bal II wild herb emitting a sharp aroma.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Paired with the thick liquor poured over it, the scent exploded into a powerful, nose-stinging fragrance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No wonder the tribal folk of Bal II, after tasting scorpion meat, fell into worship of Saint Gilles as a god.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a land like Bal, a single bite of scorpion meat was true luxury.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The winged figure within Bai Guang seemed to mutter something. Zhou Yun could guess—he was mocking the tribesmen, who didn’t follow him for a single bite of scorpion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“To the renowned children’s educator, Neos Daxiong of Asford!” the tavern owner raised his cup to the tavern.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“To Neos Daxiong!!” The crowd erupted in cheers, all raising their cups to Zhou Yun.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Yun lifted his cup slightly, turning to return the toast.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Suddenly, he heard again the landing roar of a Stormcrow gunship.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Zhou Yun first entered Angel’s Descent Town, he’d seen a group of Astartes land outside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This new group must be another sub-chapter of the Holy Blood Angels.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Chapter Master Dante had issued a call across the galaxy, summoning all descendants of Saint Gilles to guard the Gene-Father’s homeworld.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Many Holy Blood chapters—some nearly rebellious, others already declared traitors—answered the call.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Yun glanced out the window, watching a group of Astartes march past.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their powered armor was a dull red, adorned with intricate spiral patterns and gilded bloodstones—but the shade of red differed sharply from the Holy Blood Angels’.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They wore white helmets, white trim on their armor, and on their shoulder plates: three drops of blood falling into a skull-shaped chalice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Crimson Blade Chapter, Zhou Yun thought calmly,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Among the successor chapters of the Blood Angels, this chapter was relatively moderate, not deeply afflicted by blood thirst or black rage; most interestingly, they had long believed themselves to be the sons of Roboute Guilliman, deeply influenced by the Ultramarines’ culture.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, the group of Blood Angels who had entered Angel Descend Town ahead of time emerged from the other end of the street,\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zhou Yun’s gaze fell upon their silver-and-red paint schemes, and his eyes stiffened slightly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>You may comment anywhere in this chapter or the next to enter the giveaway; the author can see all comments, and I will compile a table to randomly draw eight boxes of Dante and eight boxes of Blood Angels hero blind boxes—a total of eight boxes—with the draw to be held twenty-four hours from now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(End of Chapter)\u003C\u002Fp>",1693,"2026-06-19T20:02:14.192Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","40839817e290ab1ea07139c8dd30f2d055f067903a8e57271a436b83c85ae814","i-m-in-warhammer-please-don-t-praise-the-dora-te-chapter-153","i-m-in-warhammer-please-don-t-praise-the-dora-te-chapter-151",711,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fi-m-in-warhammer-please-don-t-praise-the-doraemo-cover.jpg"]