Chapter 153: How to Make a Phone Call Properly

A colossal statue of an Archangel stood on the eastern edge of the town of Angel Descent, blocking part of the blood-colored fog,

but even without the blood mist clinging to it, this small town still didn't look much like a holy city,

the buildings here were low, crooked, and dilapidated, even alongside the widest Saint Giles Avenue,

if Saint Giles had not once descended upon this city, it might have evaporated like a single droplet of water left behind in the desert under the glare of the sun "Balor."

The crowd on the streets was sparse—part locals, part pilgrims from other worlds,

the Blood Scorpion Tavern beside the Peace Market was gathering the local drunks, who were sipping small cups of Bal's native brew,

this liquor was made from whatever could be gathered in the scarlet fever-soil—very low water content, very high alcohol strength, plenty of strange and exotic impurities, viscous like a glob of blood plasma.

But for a water-starved planet like Bal II, this was a rare treat, and the high-proof alcohol could let a person temporarily forget the bitterness of life.

"Lately a lot of refugees have been coming in, from the Underworld. They keep muttering about bugs or something."

"Muttering about bugs is fine, but some have made up a new saint not recognized by the state church—what's it called... Doraemon?"

"Yeah yeah yeah, those guys who worship Saint Doraemon, there's even a bunch proselytizing right here in our town... Why don't the angels do something about it."

"Lately the angels have been increasing too, all real busy."

"Sss-haa!" The alcohol was gradually taking effect, and a drinker with an obvious scar on his face tore open his mouth and bellowed.

But the roar of a drop-ship landing outside the window drowned out his strange cry.

He licked his lips and, curious, glanced out the window,

then immediately looked away,

because he saw a group of tall warriors in silver-and-red powered armor, splattered with dried blood, walking toward the town of Angel Descent.

"Angels?" the bald man sitting across from him asked curiously.

"Yeah, angels again, so many angels." The scarred drinker nodded.

The town of Angel Descent was administered directly by the Holy Blood Angels, and occasionally one could glimpse the figures of the Archangels' progeny

but lately especially so—the scarred drinker felt he had seen at least a hundred of them. Before, at most one or two.

"They come to commemorate their father, the holy Archangel."

The tavern's owner nodded approvingly—he was a man with a thick, bushy beard:

"This is a miracle, and we are fortunate to witness it."

"Speaking of angels—my grandfather once took part in the angels' Selection."

The scarred man grinned, saying it almost like a boast:

"Too bad the old man and his companions ran into a juvenile fire scorpion, and almost won—too bad in the end he got two of his legs burned off. Of course, the third one was fine, otherwise I wouldn't be here."

"Oh? Is that so?" The bald man raised an eyebrow and said dismissively: "I myself have taken part in the angels' Selection."

"My companions and I put in no small effort and took down a juvenile fire scorpion—might've even been the same one that scorched your grandfather back then."

Fire scorpions grew slowly and lived long; juveniles were only about three meters, while adults could reach eight meters.

"I misremembered! Back then my grandfather almost beat an adult fire scorpion." The scarred drinker hurriedly corrected himself.

"Then I misremembered too—back then my companions and I took down an adult fire scorpion." The bald man refused to be outdone.

"I alone can take down an adult fire lizard!"

The bald man nearly laughed out loud at this,

he pointed at the scarred drinker and cursed him with a laugh: "Why don't you say you're an Archangel? When I was ten I took down an adult fire lizard all by myself!"

The scarred drinker's face instantly flushed red; he slammed the table and stood up, roaring: "I'll fucking suck out a fire scorpion's venom gland!"

In an instant, every eye in the tavern turned toward the scarred drinker.

Just then, the tavern door was pushed open, and a heavy barrier of shadow blocked the sunlight at the doorway.

"Alright, suck it out for me then."

A teasing voice came from outside the door,

a man in a yellow shirt, short hair, glasses, with a hint of drowsiness in his eyes walked into the tavern,

a laser rifle hung from his shoulder, and his other hand was dragging the thing behind him that had blocked the tavern's sunlight,

sharp-eyed patrons immediately recognized it—a fire scorpion's tail

the man hauled hard, and a four- or five-meter-long fire scorpion was forcibly dragged into the tavern, between the drinking tables.

The entire tavern stared dumbfounded at the scene; they noticed a savage blood-hole in the fire scorpion's head,

the area around the hole was scorched—clearly killed in one shot by the laser rifle, a precise hit on the fire scorpion's nerve ganglion.

For a moment the tavern fell silent, every gaze lingering on the man who could actually solo-hunt a fire scorpion.

Solo-hunting a fire scorpion—even on Bal, only the most seasoned hunters dared to attempt it, and even they usually took no small injuries,

a fire scorpion this size was clearly an adult; the man had not only hunted it but dragged it back alone from deep within the red fog.

The man merely smiled, tugged at the fire scorpion's tail, and looked at the thoroughly dumbfounded scarred drinker.

He gestured with his eyes for the scarred drinker to look at the venom gland on the fire scorpion's tail.

The scarred drinker's face immediately showed a cowardly expression, and he hurriedly waved his hands,

a wave of boos immediately rose in the tavern; the scarred drinker's face was full of embarrassment,

how could he have possibly imagined it?

That someone would suddenly show up dragging a fire scorpion?

Damn it—he was sitting right by the window, by all rights he should've noticed? This was practically like some kind of sorcery.

Zhou Yun smiled slightly and dragged the fire scorpion up to the tavern's counter,

he had hunted this fire scorpion on the way here; its head had run itself into the muzzle of his laser rifle. "You know how to handle this thing?" Zhou Yun pointed at the big fire scorpion behind him and asked.

The big-bearded tavern owner nodded: "This big one's been an adult for a while, but it's not old yet. My stewing skills are pretty good."

"Just remove the venom gland, dig out the innards, sprinkle a little powder ground from Bal blood-grass, bury it shell and all in thick sand, and use the searing fire-venom from its gland to heat it. Trust me—on all of Bal II, you won't find better cooking than mine."

Hearing the tavern owner's words, Zhou Yun revealed a smile:

"Bring me a cup of wine, then handle this big scorpion. I'll treat everyone in the tavern to a meal, and whatever's left over is yours."

"Generous!" the tavern owner said approvingly, gesturing to a few of his regulars to help carry the big scorpion to the back kitchen.

"Not a local from Baal, are you?" the tavern owner asked after pouring Zhou Yun a cup of thick, syrupy liquor.

"An Asfordian." Zhou Yun took a sip of this strong, syrupy wine; the alcohol stung his tongue — the proof was almost on par with General Drost's jug of Akseima.

"Nios. Huang Huang Daxiong, renowned gunslinger, Governor Augustus's specially invited sleep therapist, legendary cat's cradle grandmaster, and child educator who has raised twenty-one successful children."

"Child educator?" That title made the tavern owner raise his brows slightly.

"Of course. Among the children I've educated, four have gone on to hold executive positions at four famous galactic corporations."

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"But what I'm proudest of is that I taught one child how to properly dial a phone."

The tavern owner raised his brows, not quite understanding why properly dialing a phone was something to be proud of,

he simply nodded and said: "That really is quite impressive."

"Don't look down on making phone calls. One day, properly dialing a phone might decide the fate of the entire galaxy!"

Zhou Yun said, looking dead serious at the tavern owner.

The tavern owner's face was utterly blank, truly unable to figure out what dialing a phone had to do with the fate of the galaxy.

After taking a sip of wine, Zhou Yun nodded at the tavern owner and said: "That child was born intellectually disabled."

"Ah, so that's why." The tavern owner had a sudden revelation.

The winged figure in the Bai Guang at the corner of Zhou Yun's eye trembled slightly, as if unable to hold back a laugh.

What a crisp bird call, Zhou Yun thought idly as he drank his wine.

The bird call from the winged figure in the Bai Guang immediately grew more urgent.

In no time at all, Zhou Yun caught a waft of delicious aroma drifting from the tavern's back kitchen, tickling his nostrils,

the smell was a bit spicy, a bit pungent, and carried a strange savory fragrance.

After a while, the tavern owner directed his staff to carry out platter after platter of fire scorpion meat served on ceramic dishes,

he himself carried a large platter with solemn ceremony and set it before Zhou Yun, then personally poured a cup of thick, syrupy liquor over the fire scorpion meat.

The fire scorpion meat was plump and rich like big chunks of crab meat, tender, white, and fragrant, sprinkled with a local Baal Secundus wild herb that gave off a stimulating aroma,

paired with that thick liquor poured over the scorpion meat, it instantly burst forth with a fragrance that shot straight up the nose.

No wonder, no wonder the tribal folk on Baal Secundus took one bite of scorpion meat and fell so far as to worship Sanguinor as a god.

For a crimson wasteland like Baal, a bite of scorpion meat was an absolute treat.

The winged figure in the Bai Guang seemed to say something; Zhou Yun could roughly guess he was complaining that the tribal folk didn't follow him just because of a bite of scorpion meat.

"A toast to the renowned child educator, Nios. Huang Huang Daxiong of Asford!" the tavern owner declared, raising his cup high to everyone in the tavern.

"To Nios. Huang Huang Daxiong!!" The crowd in the tavern erupted in a clamor, all expressing their praise toward Zhou Yun.

Zhou Yun gently raised the cup in his hand, turned his head, and returned the courtesy

Suddenly, Zhou Yun once again heard the sound of a Storm Raven gunship landing

When he had first entered Angel's Landing, Zhou Yun had seen a group of Astartes descend outside the town.

This time it was likely another group of Sanguinary Angels' successor Chapter.

Chapter Master Dante issued a call across the entire galaxy, summoning all of Sanguinor's sons to defend the gene-father's homeworld.

Many Sanguinary Angels successor Chapters — among them even some that had verged on heresy or had already been listed as traitors — answered the summons.

Zhou Yun cast a glance out the window, watching a group of Astartes walk past,

this group of Astartes wore power armor of a dim red, covered in exquisite spiral decorations, accented with gilded bloodstones, but this shade of red was utterly different from that of the Sanguinary Angels,

and they wore white helmets, the trim of their armor was likewise white, and the insignia on their shoulder plates was three drops of fresh blood falling into a skull-like chalice.

The Flesh Tearers Chapter, Zhou Yun thought blandly,

this Chapter was considered relatively moderate among the Sanguinary Angels' successor Chapters, and was not deeply affected by the Thirst or the Black Rage. The most interesting thing was that for a long period they had believed themselves to be the sons of Robert Ji Li Man, deeply influenced by Ultramarines culture.

Just then, the earlier batch of Sanguinary Angels who had entered Angel's Landing emerged from the other end of the street,

Zhou Yun's gaze fell on their silver-red paint scheme, and his expression stiffened slightly.

Commenting anywhere in this chapter or the next will enter you into a raffle — the author's backend can see it, I'll make a spreadsheet to tally it up. The prizes are Dante and eight boxes of Sanguinary Angels hero blind boxes, eight boxes total, drawing in twenty-four hours.

(End of this chapter)