Chapter 72: I Am Luo Ge Doren

In the underground palace,

the Gene Thief clan leader seemed to sense something, staring fixedly at the entrance of the palace,

then suddenly turned its head toward the Gene Thief bishop,

who, as if receiving a command, bowed respectfully to the clan leader,

then left the palace with four evangelists,

Mong knew they were going to intercept Lyen Rus and Malkiet, who were storming the Administrative Tower.

It’s about to be born—just a little more.

Mong stared at the beast within the biomass pool, its body growing increasingly robust,

the other Tyran creatures around it had mostly decomposed, their biomass diverted to feed this giant,

Mong estimated that in another seven or eight minutes, this Tyran behemoth would be perfectly born and descend,

it was too late to stop it—even now interrupting its birth would only make its form less perfect.

Damn, if only I could inject corruption into the Gene Thief clan leader’s body,

let my parasites burrow into that damned parasitic demigod’s flesh, make the Gene Thief suffer from corruption,

suddenly, Mong froze,

realizing it had fallen into a mental blind spot,

it truly couldn’t get close enough to the Gene Thief clan leader to inject its own parasites and Nurgle’s corruption into its body,

but it could inject that corruption into the Tyran behemoth within the biomass pool before it.

Mong’s body trembled uncontrollably—with excitement, and with fear,

the biomass pool could indeed break down flesh, but its primary function was still to manufacture Tyran life,

its corrosiveness shouldn’t be too strong,

some of Mong’s internal parasites might survive,

even if the parasites couldn’t, its body still held vast quantities of supernatural viruses,

these viruses from the Plague Lord possessed both material and warp-space transmission capabilities,

they could silently infiltrate the behemoth’s body through the biomass it absorbed, corrupting its alien flesh.

But how could it inject its supernatural viruses into the biomass pool without being noticed?

Such a massive, powerful beast required an enormous quantity of viruses to corrupt,

and the Gene Thief clan leader was watching right before it—Mong had almost no chance to release the viruses.

Unless—

Mong stared at the biomass pool, at the people continuously leaping into it,

and a grim, tragic smile curled on its lips.

Mong felt as if it had become that seven- or eight-year-old child again, with ugly horns growing from its head,

hiding behind furniture, trembling in fear as it watched its mother abuse its brother.

Back then, it had wanted to summon the courage to rush forward and protect Malkiet,

but it hadn’t been able to.

“Lyen Rus,”

Mong muttered hoarsely, its voice carried by the vibrating wings of tiny insects to the ground.

Images surfaced before its eyes, voices of angels echoed in its ears,

Mong truly disliked the normal humans of the Lower Nest, and despised the aloof Upper Nesters too,

they loathed mutants and would have killed Mong if they could,

Mong hated them too, and had no desire to save them,

but because Malkiet said they must save Asford,

and Mong could never forget the sight of Malkiet being abused by its mother,

it carried guilt for that, and hatred for its own cowardice.

“Tell my brother I’m not a coward.”

It stood up, its trembling body stepping forward, one step at a time toward the biomass pool,

its pace quickened, gradually shifting from walking to running,

Mong couldn’t help but laugh aloud,

it remembered its mother’s warm embrace, the playful moments with its brother,

the dim, cramped room of the Lower Nest, the mad mother, the brother enduring abuse, and the trembling child hiding away.

But this time, Mong burst out from behind the furniture and stood between its mother and its brother.

“And I died to save Asford.”

Mong lastly mocked the tiny insect at its ear, knowing Lyen Rus could hear.

Then, the viscous biomass pool swallowed it.

In the first floor of the Administrative Tower,

under heavy protection of numerous Plague Zombies, Zhou Yun and Malkiet advanced steadily through the corridor,

numerous Gene Thieves repeatedly burst forth from doors, windows, shadows, and overhead pipes,

attempting to ambush Zhou Yun and Malkiet,

but without exception, each was crushed into pulp by Zhou Yun, devoured by Malkiet’s flies, or torn apart by Plague Zombies,

along the way, Zhou Yun had lost count of how many Gene Thieves he’d killed,

yet strangely, he felt absolutely no fatigue,

on the contrary, his condition kept improving,

his focus sharpened, his muscles thrummed with vitality, his reflexes grew ever keener,

Zhou Yun had initially wondered if Khorne had granted him a blessing,

but the winged figure in Bai Guang denied it.

And Zhou Yun had begun to sense that what nourished him was not blood, battle, or slaughter,

but death—cold, dark death,

pure, hollow, lifeless death,

as if the deaths of the Gene Thieves were nourishing Zhou Yun, so he could bring even more death.

Could the Emperor himself really have given him a buff?

Does the Emperor rule over death?

Could it be that the Benevolent Father next door happened to grant him a blessing too?

As Zhou Yun pondered whether this sensation was his imagination or a divine boon,

Malkiet turned to Zhou Yun and asked in a low voice: “What did Mong just say?”

At the entrance of the Administrative Tower, Zhou Yun had heard Mong’s voice,

but the tiny insect clinging to his ear had since stopped moving and no longer carried Mong’s words,

Malkiet understood what this meant,

so he had remained silent until now, when he finally asked.

Zhou Yun glanced at Malkiet,

“He said, tell you—he’s not a coward.”

“And that he died to save Asford.”

Honestly, Zhou Yun didn’t know what Mong had done,

why didn’t he explain more before dying?

Zhou Yun frowned—he felt Mong might have left him a trap.

Malkiet’s throat moved, then he nodded.

“Oh.” His voice was barely a whisper.

Suddenly, Malkiet halted, staring at the pitch-black corridor ahead.

“My flies tell me someone’s coming.”

Zhou Yun nodded slightly, listening as footsteps drew nearer,

a bald woman stood at the corridor’s end, flanked by four evangelists and eight Gene Thief guards.

The Gene Thief bishop’s gaze settled on Zhou Yun,

on his cold, rational face beneath golden hair,

“So it’s you.”

In the Gene Thief bishop’s eyes, psychic flames blazed fiercely,

searing psychic fire seemed ready to burn Zhou Yun to ash:

“So it’s you, Neos.”

“I thought you were a devout follower of the Four-Armed Divine Emperor—yet here you are, entangled with the Plague Lord’s rotting corpses.”

“Who are you, Neos?!”

After a moment of silence, Zhou Yun slowly replied to the Gene Thief bishop’s accusation:

“I am Luo Ge. Doren.”

(End of Chapter)