Chapter 156: Astarte Chaplain?

Rough gravel blew across the town of Angel's Descent.

Zhou Yun walked south along Saint Guilliman Avenue, where the street lay relatively cooler beneath the shadow cast by the angel's wings.

He adjusted his decorative glasses and glanced silently at the Astartes passing by now and then.

Mostly warriors of the Crimson Blades Chapter, they moved in small groups across the city, venerating the traces left by Saint Guilliman.

The Blood Knights, however, had either departed or collectively gone elsewhere—nowhere to be seen on the streets.

Ordinary pedestrians were even scarcer; most dared only hide within their homes, watching the Astartes from afar, and some wouldn't even dare to look up.

Heavy footsteps left a crunching sound in the sand—a figure clad in jet-black armor, his helmet forged into the shape of a skull.

The angry skull helmet turned toward Zhou Yun, its neatly arranged metal teeth clenched tightly around the breathing tube, pale green ocular lenses glinting faintly in the sun.

A Crimson Blades Space Marine Chaplain—Zhou Yun slightly raised an eyebrow.

The face of death, of course, did not frighten Zhou Yun; he even regarded the chaplain with mild interest.

The chaplain approached Zhou Yun with several Space Marines, giving him a slight nod, his power armor creaking in response.

"Greetings, honorable resident of Ba Wei II," the chaplain's voice was deep, bearing an accent distinct from Baal and the Underhive.

His voice, amplified, rang slightly deafening: "Do you know where the Great Square is?"

"I wish to pay homage to our Father."

The chaplain seemed to be trying to make his voice sound gentle and kind.

But paired with his helmet, his voice, and the amplifier, it was enough to make every child in the city wet their pants at night.

Zhou Yun blinked lightly.

A gentle chaplain? Rare indeed—especially among the children of Saint Guilliman.

In fact, not just among Saint Guilliman's children—even among Guilliman's own, chaplains were often the most fanatical of the chapter.

Could this be the opportunity the Divination Machine had foretold—that he would obtain the map?

But Zhou Yun had not yet reached the southern edge of Angel's Descent.

"I am not a native of Ba Wei II," Zhou Yun offered a faint smile: "I am Neos Daxiong, a pipe repairman from Asford, tasked with sealing broken conduits to prevent sewage, mutants, and thieves from flooding the Underhive."

"I, too, have come here to express reverence and adoration for the Archangel."

As Zhou Yun spoke of reverence and adoration, the winged figure within the white light at his corner flickered with clear disdain, as if questioning his piety toward the Archangel.

What a damned birdman.

"But I seem to be lost," Zhou Yun shrugged, his tone tinged with resignation.

He did not directly steer the conversation toward the map—he felt it would be too forced.

The chaplain studied Zhou Yun for several seconds, then spoke in a gentle voice: "I see. Neos of Asford—I have heard of your battles. Your loyalty is worthy of praise."

"Lost? Your companions are all gathered south of the city—follow Saint Guilliman Avenue and you'll find them."

The chaplain turned to point out the direction.

It seemed the word "Asford" had stirred some favor in him—his tone grew slightly less deep and somber.

Companions? What companions do I have? Another group from Asford?

Zhou Yun did not reveal his inner doubt; the face covering him was sculpted from bodily clay, easy to control.

"Thank you for your guidance," Zhou Yun gave a slight bow; the chaplain returned the gesture.

Zhou Yun then continued toward the southern part of the city, while the chaplain turned back to search for the Great Square.

"Greetings, honorable resident of Ba Wei II."

The chaplain found another passerby and addressed the trembling man:

"Do you know where the Great Square is?" "I wish to pay homage to our Father."

His words were identical to those he had spoken to Zhou Yun.

Zhou Yun, glancing away without notice, twitched slightly at the corner of his mouth—the chaplain's tone was gentle, but his actions were rigid, as if reciting from a fixed template.

Could it be he speaks only by following the Toilet Paper—no, the Astartes Codex?

Zhou Yun withdrew his gaze before the chaplain could notice.

As a Space Marine, the chaplain's senses were extraordinarily enhanced.

But beneath Zhou Yun's clay-made false skin lay the Ghost DX suit, and with the added sensory enhancement from the pale death aura, his reflexes were even faster than the chaplain's.

That was how he avoided revealing any real flaw before the chaplain's eyes.

Zhou Yun vanished silently at the end of the street.

After Zhou Yun disappeared, the chaplain slowly lifted his head, gazing toward the direction he had vanished.

"Brother, did he seem suspicious to you?" asked the Crimson Blades Battle-Brother standing beside the chaplain.

"." The chaplain fell silent for a moment, only the creaking of his power armor echoing: "No."

Neither corruption by Chaos nor genetic mutation had the chaplain detected.

!. ead

"His demeanor surprised me. Few mortals can speak to me without fear. Has the fire of Asford forged their people? Or does their unique faith sustain them?"

The chaplain recalled the so-called Saint Doraemon—the commander Dante had chosen to temporarily tolerate this cult venerating an unapproved saint.

If this man Neos was indeed a companion of the Asford folk to the south, he too must be a follower of Saint Doraemon.

"Strange—this name 'Neos' somehow stirred a sense of holiness within me, as if the name itself deserved reverence..."

A vehicle cobbled together from crude machinery stood at the southern edge of Angel's Descent, beside thin red mist.

A group of people in linen garments, bearing Asford faces, gathered near the vehicle, clutching something tightly as they whispered prayers.

". ay the Machine-Spirit protect our vehicle from ever stalling."

"May it guide us safely to our destination."

The low prayers reached Zhou Yun's ears; he approached with quiet curiosity.

Seeing him draw near, they immediately ceased their prayers and shoved what they held into their pockets.

They studied Zhou Yun with wary eyes, finally fixing their gaze on his face—neither Baalite nor Asfordian.

"Fellow countryman, where is your convoy headed?" Zhou Yun smiled, speaking in a thick Asford-accented Low Gothic.

Hearing his accent, the Asford folk's eyes instantly softened.

"Second Fardia Town," the leader said.

Second Fardia—Zhou Yun blinked lightly.

"What a coincidence—we're going the same way." He smiled.

(End of Chapter)