Chapter 185: Empire? Second Oltremar!

The blue-armored warrior's fingers flicked lightly, as nimble as a magician's sleight of hand.

A dull, plastic toy shortsword appeared in his hand.

The plastic sword looked like a child's toy from the hive's upper levels, yet every Son of Sanguinius present felt an inexplicable resonance.

The blade seemed to retain the power of Sanguinius, attuned to their souls.

In their eyes, the dull plastic shortsword appeared to radiate a warm, white light like sunlight—though few Sons of Sanguinius noticed that faint, flickering blue tinged the invisible glow.

Dante's gaze sharpened slightly; the plastic shortsword gave him a faint echo of the Spear of Vengeance, as if it had once been wielded by Sanguinius himself.

If it truly had been used by Sanguinius, and still remained pristine after such vast ages, this plastic shortsword was almost certainly a holy relic tied to him.

Considering the blue-armored warrior's identity, Dante was certain it was a rare ancient relic, once wielded by Sanguinius ten thousand years ago.

Zhou Yun, hidden within the blue power armor molded from clay, twitched his lips slightly.

This so-called holy relic was in fact his first-ever acquired weapon: the famed blade Dian Guang Wan.

After its power was drained during the battle against the Underhive's hellworms, the winged figure of Bai Guang descended upon Zhou Yun during the battle against the horde in Asford's lower hive.

Zhou Yun had channeled part of that power into Dian Guang Wan, transforming it into a spear.

Thus, the drained blade had absorbed the winged figure's power, naturally resonating with the Sons of Sanguinius around him.

From this perspective, Zhou Yun felt he was being perfectly honest—this truly was a great open relic.

Jor, the Blood Knights' chapter master, exhaled a hot, bloody breath as he stared at the shortsword.

Somewhere in the air, the faint sound of teeth clashing against power armor seemed to echo.

At the Crimson Grand Council, others may not have noticed closely, but Yor remembered the short sword that extended from the reddish-pink wooden door,

At the Crimson Conclave, others may not have noticed, but Jor remembered the shortsword extending from the pink-tinged wooden door.

That plastic shortsword, though adorned with a layer of golden light absent from the one in the blue-armored warrior's hand, was otherwise identical in form.

That sword had effortlessly blocked Jor's attack and forced him back.

All present sensed the surge of rage emanating from Jor.

His power armor creaked and groaned as he stepped down from the dais and leapt into the center of the Angel's Well's sand pit, standing before the blue-armored warrior.

"I'll test you," Jor growled, drawing his blood-slick chainsword; its roar filled the Angel's Well, terrifying even the battle-hardened.

Though all present were veterans of countless wars, Jor's bloody fury still startled them—this rage was twisted and monstrous, as if it sought to carve wounds into the air and make reality bleed. Even the Flesh Eater berserkers branded with the Butcher's Nail rarely reached such a pitch.

"He's nearly crossed the line," muttered Kaong of the Crimson Blade.

Beside him, Goren, the newly befriended Chapter Master of the Holy Angels, shook his head: "Perhaps he already has."

"First blood?" the blue-armored warrior said calmly. "Or final blood?"

These were two forms of duel.

First blood ended when the first drop of blood fell.

Final blood ended only with death or surrender.

Some Sons of Sanguinius broke into cold sweats, fearing Jor would choose final blood in his rage.

No one present wished for a corpse—whether the blue-armored warrior or Jor.

Though Jor was mad, fallen, and listed as a traitor, he remained a Son of Sanguinius and should not die by his own kin's hand.

The blue-armored warrior might be annoying, but he was no Son of Sanguinius—and yet he came to aid Baal. The Blood Angels likewise did not wish him slain by their own.

"Jor," Dante's low voice cut through the air, a warning.

Jor nodded slightly, drew a deep breath, and raised his chainsword toward the blue-armored warrior: "First blood."

Ending with the first drop of blood—perfect for a controlled sparring. All present exhaled in relief.

Zhou Yun, within his clay armor, studied Jor: the Blood Knight's chapter master still retained a sliver of reason amid his blood thirst, not fully fallen.

He understood why he stood here, understood the greater good.

"Good," Zhou Yun nodded lightly.

Jor did not reply with words.

His chainsword roared louder, its teeth gnashing the air like a predator.

This was Jor's response—he bellowed with bloody fury and charged Zhou Yun, chainsword raised.

"Incredible speed!" Kaong of the Crimson Blade exclaimed. Goren of the Holy Angels nodded in agreement.

Jor's speed nearly surpassed the limits of a standard Space Marine—even fellow chapter masters were stunned.

"He might win," said Goren of the Holy Angels.

Zhou Yun, too, was surprised by Jor's speed.

Jor's chainsword swung nearly as fast as a Hive Tyrant's bone blade.

Clearly, the descent into blood thirst brought not only rage and hunger, but powerful biological mutations. Yet beneath Zhou Yun's clay armor lay a genuine, twenty-second-century Ghost DX suit, augmented with a pre-war acceleration spring.

Jor's chainsword grazed Zhou Yun's side—its teeth missed by a hair's breadth.

The Astartes who had just challenged Zhou Yun froze, then realized his speed now exceeded even what he'd shown moments before.

Zhou Yun floated backward with effortless grace, as if his power armor didn't exist.

Jor's strength was immense—far beyond any ordinary chapter master. Even with two item enhancements, Zhou Yun's speed was only slightly faster.

Jor did not panic at Zhou Yun's evasion; instead, he swayed his body, planting his feet firmly into the gravel.

Instantly, a cloud of fine sand erupted from the ground, briefly obscuring Zhou Yun's vision.

"ROAR!!!" A bestial growl erupted as Jor lunged from the dust, chainsword raised high to slash diagonally at Zhou Yun.

Though his strength and speed fell short of Zhou Yun's, Jor's combat experience and martial skill vastly surpassed his.

In a first-blood melee, Zhou Yun held no absolute advantage—this was the accumulated wisdom of centuries of battle.

But—

A bewildering sight appeared: Zhou Yun's figure vanished from his spot in an instant.

This was not mere speed—it was true disappearance.

The Psionic Hat, disguised as a Space Marine, had one advantage: Zhou Yun could conceal it within his clay body.

"Psyker?" Jor gasped, yet did not halt—he spun instantly and slashed behind him.

Zhou Yun's psychic hammer collided with Jor's chainsword, instantly scattering the dust.

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"Left," Zhou Yun's voice suddenly rang out, tone brimming with sincerity, as if a trustworthy friend were offering advice.

Jor instantly believed him, instinctively swinging his chainsword toward his left.

Zhou Yun appeared beside Jor's right, Dian Guang Wan in hand, thrusting toward his face.

Jor barely raised his chainsword to block—but Zhou Yun's speed was faster. Once he seized the initiative, Jor could not keep up.

The drained Dian Guang Wan lightly tapped Jor's helmet.

Then Zhou Yun stepped back, creating distance.

Jor let out a muffled roar and took a step backward.

Though no blood flowed, Zhou Yun had clearly won.

Had he wished, he could have shattered Jor's helm.

"Which chapter are you from?" Jor growled. "I don't believe a mere Ultramarine possesses such skill."

Jor sensed the blue-armored warrior's strength—if he fought to the death without restraint, Jor might wound him, but truly defeating him was nearly impossible.

This power ranked among the very top chapter masters.

As he spoke, Jor's gaze fell upon Zhou Yun's fist.

Zhou Yun wore superhuman gloves and found other weapons inconvenient, so he'd fashioned a fake power gauntlet over his hand.

"You're not Kaldor, are you?" Jor asked hesitantly.

The Ultramarines' chapter master wielded power fists—but upon reflection, it was unlikely Kaldor himself had come to aid Baal.

"No. I'm just an ordinary Ultramarine who happened to pass through."

The blue-armored warrior shook his head, speaking with solemn conviction, then extended his hand toward Jor.

Are you kidding me?!

If he were just an ordinary Ultramarine—if an ordinary Ultramarine had this power—then the Empire should just rename itself Second Oltremar!

Jor stiffened, stared at the outstretched hand, sighed softly, then pulled a power dagger from his belt and tossed it to Zhou Yun.

"This is a power blade forged on Baal ten thousand years ago—one of our chapter's holy relics."

Before Jor's words had fully faded, a sharp cry echoed through the Angel's Well.

A blood slave raised his voice over the comms: "Lords, please welcome Captain Finney of the Crimson Angels!"

Jor turned his head and saw Dante frozen in place.

(End of Chapter)