Chapter 228: Zhou Yun: What a Show—I Loved Every Moment!

My lord, according to the intelligence I possess, the planet of Dai Wen, personally conquered and appointed as a viceroyalty by you, has betrayed the Human Empire.

Lokken held his breath; not just him, but every warrior in the Hall of Vengeance Soul froze, staring at Airebas in disbelief.

A world conquered by the Warmaster himself has fallen into rebellion? This has never happened before!

The Shadow Wolves and their Primarch have always prided themselves on the efficiency of their planetary reconquests; what Airebas just said is nothing short of spitting on the entire Legion's honor.

Yet Airebas wore an expression of calm. Or perhaps it wasn't an expression at all.

Under Zhou Yun's forceful blow, Airebas's face was swollen, barely recognizable as human.

"Of course," Airebas said with a hint of regret. "This matter should have been discussed in private."

"Speak!" Horus growled. "There is nothing hidden among the Shadow Wolves!"

"I personally conquered Dai Wen and appointed my trusted Commander Tanba as its viceroy—he is a capable, loyal, and trustworthy commander!"

"I left him sufficient troops. Dai Wen is a primitive world of tribes and cults devoted to sorcerers—how could they possibly defeat Tanba and his forces?"

"My lord, I beg your forgiveness," Airebas bowed apologetically, his voice low. "I must ask you to pardon what I am about to say."

"Speak!" Horus's voice carried a thread of anger.

Airebas evaded the point, never getting to the heart of it—clearly, the Warmaster was growing impatient.

"Yugan Tanba has betrayed us," Airebas said, his tone perfectly calibrated with carefully crafted resentment and fury.

The Shadow Wolves stared in stunned silence.

The Warmaster had just praised Tanba, expressing his trust in the commander.

And now Airebas claimed Yugan Tanba had betrayed him? This was clearly meant to provoke the Warmaster.

"Whoo—" A sudden, winding, cheerful whistle broke the silence.

Lokken blinked in confusion, and alongside the other Shadow Wolves, turned sharply to see the Blood Angel, Chu Mu Dante, arms crossed, watching Airebas with keen amusement, as if witnessing a fine performance.

Instantly, every Shadow Wolf warrior's face seemed dusted over with shame.

"Impossible!!!"

Horus roared:

"I know Tanba's character—that's why I chose him for this duty. He would never betray me!"

Lokken heard a faint tremor in the Warmaster's final words.

He had heard how Tanba had reacted when the Warmaster appointed him viceroy.

The commander had wept, begging not to be abandoned on this world, not to be torn from the Great Crusade fleet.

Lokken understood him. Most warriors—human or Astartes—could understand.

What honor or power could a viceroyalty offer compared to the glory and dignity of the Great Crusade?

While other warriors fought among the stars, he would be trapped sitting idle on a primitive world.

But the Warmaster never changed his decisions lightly.

Lokken suspected that if Airebas spoke truth, Tanba had betrayed them precisely because of this.

"I hope it is not true—but his betrayal does have a reason."

"The native tribes of Dai Wen practice primitive faiths. Perhaps they used some sorcery to twist the minds of Imperial soldiers."

"Some sorcery?" Horus's anger was laced with disbelief.

Most Shadow Wolves dismissed this as Airebas's improvised excuse.

"Tanba now calls himself lord of Dai Wen, worships those native faiths—he has utterly betrayed the Emperor, and calls you..."

Airebas hesitated slightly, then spat with hatred:

"... dog of the fallen god."

Instantly, the hall erupted in furious roars; warriors pounded their chests, swearing to the Warmaster they would sever Tanba's head.

Lokken felt the same anguish and rage—how dare anyone insult the Warmaster, call him a dog of a god?

"Enough!!!"

Horus's roar thundered through the Hall of Vengeance Soul, shaking it to its core.

In an instant, silence fell—so complete even breathing became audible.

"I will make him pay!!!!"

Horus roared:

"I will cut off his head myself, and bring the Emperor's judgment upon him. I swear it by my own honor!"

"My lord, allow me to offer counsel—rushing in blindly is foolhardy. Please entrust this matter to your warriors."

Horus stared hard at Airebas, then let out a cruel laugh: "Are you telling me to act like a coward, and let others scrub the stain from my honor?"

"I have no such intention—" Airebas bowed deeply, his body trembling slightly under the weight of Horus's fury.

"Form a spearhead force," Horus ordered his warriors in a low voice. "Immediately."

"Who will lead it, my lord?" Abaddon stepped forward, head bowed.

"I will!" Horus growled, turning and leaving the hall.

Zhou Yun crossed his arms, feeling he had just watched a grand performance.

These schemers are excellent actors.

Just then, the schemer Lokken approached Zhou Yun.

"You seem to care too little for the honor of your brother Legion."

Lokken spoke bluntly, his tone carrying both reprimand and warning:

"I should not accuse you so directly, but this will breed hatred—even revulsion—among the Shadow Wolves."

"For that bottle of Bal wine, I believe we share some friendship. Will you listen to my counsel?"

Zhou Yun looked at Lokken and silently marveled—this Lokken was truly a loyal, honest man.

"You misunderstand. I am not mocking the Shadow Wolves. I find Airebas's words amusing."

He chuckled softly:

"Look at his face—how thick-skinned he is. After I beat him into this state, he still delivers such a flawless performance without blinking."

"Performance?" At this, the schemer Lokken paused, startled.

"Performance," Zhou Yun smiled. Airebas's act had indeed been masterful.

With the props of the Hot-Acting Scoreboard and the Robot Director, Zhou Yun himself was among humanity's finest actors.

But Airebas's acting—

"Even the most professional actors could not match Airebas's performance today."

"Look how perfectly he guided you—how he guided the Warmaster?"

Zhou Yun laughed aloud, watching Airebas leave the hall, and said to Lokken:

"He cleverly turned Dai Wen's betrayal into an insult to the Warmaster's honor—into a personal vendetta."

"Horus will never let anyone else restore his honor. That's where the trouble lies."

Performance. Deception. Perfectly timed rage.

Airebas

Con-man

Lokken stood frozen, as if struck by lightning—his reason told him the Blood Angel spoke the absolute truth.

Airebas, Chief Priest of the Word Bearers, was trying to manipulate the Warmaster.

Why?!

But before Lokken could speak, the Blood Angel simply smiled, cast him a glance, and turned away.

Lokken's eyes widened slightly.

That glance held something strange—not looking at Lokken, but at something else. A look reserved for a play.

Lokken found it odd.

"Lokken." A claw rested on his shoulder.

But before Lokken could react, the claw became the broad palm of an Astartes.

Abaddon stood behind him.

"Lokken, prepare yourself," Abaddon said. "We are departing for the Dai Wen satellite."

Lokken nodded slightly, quickly pulling his thoughts back into combat readiness.

He returned to his quarters, which were plain: only a bed, a table, nothing else.

He'd heard the Emperor's Children and Blood Angels decorated their rooms with lavish ornaments, but Horus's sons kept only simplicity.

He sat on his bed, bewildered.

What should he prepare for battle?

Power sword always in hand, power armor always worn—

Was that right?

Lokken stared at himself, slightly confused—his memory felt hazy.

He felt restless, glancing at the bottle of Bal wine on his table.

He suddenly noticed the label looked strange.

990. 41—the 990th year of the 41st Millennium?

Lokken blinked in surprise—how could the Blood Angels use such a label?

Was it a mistake? How could time suddenly be off by ten thousand years?

Lokken picked up the wine with a strange expression, hesitated, then pulled the cork free.

A small amount of alcohol has no effect on the Astartes; they can evade the vast majority of toxins in the world.

He picked up the bottle and poured it down his throat—

Bitterness, intense and sharp, exploded on Lokken's tongue,

a violent tannin surge slammed into his brain, churning violently within it, overwhelming him with an unbearable dizziness.

Damn it, why is the alcohol brewed by the Blood Angels so bitter?

The bottle slipped from Lokken's hand and shattered violently on the ground, crimson wine spreading across the floor like his own blood.

In it reflected Lokken's face—not human, but the alien visage he often saw in his hallucinations.

Lokken paused briefly, unable to resist reaching out to gently touch his own face,

the scenes in his eyes shifting and intertwining, blurring the line between real and illusion.

But suddenly, Lokken remembered the gaze the Blood Angel had fixed on him as he left,

that strange, theatrical stare,

and in it, Lokken faintly saw his own reflection,

the reflection of a monster.

In his own eyes, was he an alien monster??

(End of Chapter)