Chapter 168: Bird-Winged Sanguinius? Too Heretical!

The Crimson Great Council Hall was brightly lit, and a gorgeous carpet woven by the Blood Angels themselves was laid in front of the hall's door, its golden threads shimmering, presenting complex patterns that were constantly changing.

Blood thralls in robes stood on both sides of the gate, singing ancient ballads in moving voices; these ballads either praised Sanguinius, glorified the divinity of the Emperor, or missed the glory of the former Legion.

These were all shared memories belonging to the descendants of Sanguinius.

Astartes from different Chapters passed through this gate, all wearing power armor made of ceramite, each looking like it was forged from stubborn stone, appearing noble and sacred.

The Flesh Tearers, who had long lived on starships and had no home planet, stepped onto the land of Baal. Their Chapter Master, Flodak, was whispering with the Chapter Master of the Glorious Angels.

The Chapter Master of the Holy Angels, Goren, was chatting with the Tomb Guard Chapter about the ancient Blood Eagle Oath, while the Chaplain of the Penitent Angels, clad in black armor, watched this scene in silence.

The Chapter Master of the Blood Knights, Yoll, was also alone, holding spiced wine mixed with blood, though Dante noticed he did not take off his helmet to taste it.

The Blood Wings and Crimson Blades were chatting about the Red Thirst, the Black Rage, and the Codex, while the Flesh Tearer on the side seemed dissatisfied with the Crimson Blades' constant talk of Guilliman, and the Flesh Eaters seemed to share his opinion.

The Red Knights, filled with deep melancholy, were tasting spiced wine together with the white-haired Red Wings.

Dante stood outside the door, watching these scenes in the Crimson Great Council Hall.

So many successor Chapters of the Blood Angels were gathered together.

Except for a very few Chapters, all descendants flowing with the angel's blood had come to Baal.

The Vermilion Angels should not be coming to support; they had formalized the slaughter and completely broken with the parent Chapter.

The Spears of Atlantis acted in a reclusive and strange manner, almost never communicating with other Chapters, clearly ignoring the call for help.

The Lamenters were still having bad luck; they had chosen to face the edge of the Kraken Hive Fleet directly many times to protect many Imperial worlds, and now they were almost wiped out, unable to support Baal. Dante hoped Sanguinius could protect them.

And even among these blood brothers who had arrived, there were still countless differences.

Dante had seen more than once that warriors from different successor Chapters exclaimed at the differences between each other; ten thousand years of separation had even caused differences between the same bloodlines.

Some of these successor Chapters were mired in the Black-Red Curse, some resisted tenaciously, some were cynical, some were calm and composed...

These warriors wore different battle armors interwoven with red, black, white, gold, and other colors, and their appearances were as different as their inner selves.

Bang!!!

Suddenly, several intense sparks burst from the brazier beside Dante, and the warm firelight shone on Dante's golden armor, and also on every power armor of Sanguinius in the Great Council Hall.

The gold became soft, the red became hazy, the black became active, the white became stained with red... These colors were interwoven, and they seemed not so different from each other.

Yes, we are still blood-connected.

Dante couldn't help but think and hope.

Time has changed many things; temperament, personality, customs, and history are all vastly different, but none of this can change the blood of Sanguinius.

Under different traditions and profound rituals, under power armor of different paint jobs... We are still brothers and compatriots, and the planet under our feet is still the blood hometown of every descendant of Sanguinius.

Now, the descendants of Sanguinius have come home.

They will defend Baal with their own blood, even if they had never stepped on this hot land in the past.

And Dante will use everything he has to unite them, ensuring that every drop of blood can be shed for Baal.

He stepped into the Crimson Great Council Hall, and the blood thralls raised their voices and began to sing.

"Dante! Lord of Angels! Dante! Lord of Baal! Dante! Lord of the Firstborn!"

"Dante! Dante! Dante!"

Almost all of Sanguinius's descendants cast their eyes at Dante, most of them friendly, and all carrying reverence; a thousand years of service had also made Dante a legend.

But Dante's aged face under the golden mask of Sanguinius twitched slightly; it was precisely this worship that made him feel guilty and embarrassed; he felt he was unworthy of such worship.

And even if he had no experience in dealing with such scenes, facing the worship of so many Astartes, and who wrote the songs the blood thralls were singing? Why didn't anyone tell him?

Lord of Angels? Lord of Baal? Is this trying to put him on par with the Archangel?

For a moment, he suddenly felt that Mephiston running to the desert to find the Genestealers' nest before the Crimson Council started was a wise choice.

In the scarlet desert of Baal, hot sand blew onto Logens's fiber robe, and some sand even drilled into the robe, getting stuck in the chitinous shell under his fiber fabric.

This made Logens feel very uncomfortable, and he lifted his robe to rub the sand out.

"By the sheath-wings of Sanguinius!"

Not far away, Karl Jian, dragging the corpse of a fire scorpion, turned his head and said impatiently:

"Can you hurry up? We still have to rush to Sheath-Wing Fortress!"

"The Spirit-Brain... Arch-Master Mephiston sent news that Lord Four-Clawed Dante is summoning us... summoning every devout descendant of Sheath-Winged Sanguinius."

"It is said that the great Living Saint Sanguineli is about to descend!"

Logens looked at Karl Jian's urging and couldn't help but lower his head; he hated this brother of his.

Although they had the same parents, Karl Jian was more excellent; the genetic sequence in his body not only came from their parents but had also been modified by the Blood Mutation Masters within the cult.

"That group of people surrounding us also has a Dante." Logens couldn't help but mutter.

He was talking about the group of heretics who had surrounded them before, but under the leadership of Spirit-Brain Arch-Master Mephiston, they easily hid in the desert and hid in Sheath-Wing Fortress. "They are Genestealers." Karl Jian made an exorcism gesture and said: "They have been corrupted by blasphemous genes. The Sanguinius they believe in does not have sheath-wings, but a pair of bird wings!"

"Bird wings! A pair of bird wings! How heretical this is!"

"Their Dante does not have four sharp claws, their Mephiston does not have the specialized brain tissue of an Arch-Master, and their Living Saint is Sanguineno with bird wings, not the great Sanguineli!"

There was deep disgust in Karl Jian's tone when he spoke.

"But they won't live long!" Karl Jian emphasized: "Lord Four-Clawed Dante is convening the Purple-Red Great Council, summoning every descendant of Sheath-Winged Sanguinius."

"Living Saint Sanguineli is also about to descend, and soon the insect egg of Sheath-Winged Sanguinius will also descend from the sky, leading the descendants in Sheath-Wing Fortress to conquer those fake blasphemers."

Logens nodded as if he understood.

He knew that he and Karl Jian hunting fire scorpions was to prepare for the Purple-Red Great Council.

Every descendant flowing with the purple blood of Sheath-Winged Sanguinius would gather in Sheath-Wing Fortress, and everyone would need a lot of food then.

So Spirit-Brain Arch-Master Mephiston issued an order to every descendant through a massive psychic link, to collect enough food on the way.

"It's your turn to drag it."

Karl Jian put down the rope tying the fire scorpion and was about to hand it to Logens:

"Move faster. It is said that this time, Lord Four-Clawed Dante will personally select a batch of excellent warriors and bestow upon them gene-seed from himself."

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"I don't want to fall behind others. You should work harder too; you might be able to obtain the gene-seed bestowed by the Blood Mutation Masters."

Logens took the rope from Karl Jian's hand with a face full of displeasure and carried it on his shoulder.

"By Sheath-Winged Sanguinius, perhaps we are the Genestealers, not them." Logens couldn't help but complain when he took the rope.

"Bastard!" Karl Jian kicked Logens, angry at his blasphemous words: "What a bastard thing to say! You are so blasphemous, perhaps I should kill you here!"

"Remember, we are the descendants of the sacred bloodline of Sheath-Winged Sanguinius; the blood of Sheath-Winged Sanguinius flows in our bodies. Except for us... everyone else on this planet is a blasphemous heretic! They are all shameless Genestealers!"

"The blood flowing in those bastards is not the worshipped sheath-wing blood, but blasphemous bird-wing blood."

Logens lowered his head and stopped talking, just pulling the blood scorpion forward. Suddenly, Logens saw a figure faintly standing in the desert ahead.

That figure was also wearing a flax-colored fiber robe, resisting the wind and sand, walking step by step toward Logens and Karl Jian.

Karl Jian let out a low hiss, and sharp claws wrapped in chitinous shells were exposed from the robe.

"Four-Clawed Dante, Spirit-Brain Mephiston, Sanguineli, Blood Mutation Masters, Sheath-Wing Fortress... you guys are quite complete."

A playful voice came from the other end of the wind and sand. The figure held a cane in his hand, and his left hand seemed to be holding some small thing, walking toward the two.

"Who are you?" Karl Jian asked in a low voice.

"Me?" The figure in the wind and sand was revealed.

It was a man wearing a cowboy hat, short hair, a flax robe, and glasses.

The man held a cane in one hand, and in the other hand was a small person sitting on a chair, wearing a hat, and holding a megaphone.

He smiled slightly, and his finger tapped lightly on the hat of the small person in his hand.

Ding————

A ding sound came from the small person, who slowly picked up the megaphone and shouted: "Ready... action!!"

The man's body shook slightly, and a sincere and kind smile suddenly appeared on his face:

"Actually, I am the chosen one of Saint Crustacean Doraemon, a friend of Sheath-Winged Sanguinius, named Meat-Gun Nobita."

"Guided by Saint Crustacean Doraemon, I have come here to help the descendants of Sheath-Winged Sanguinius overcome their difficulties."

The next chapter might be ten minutes late; I haven't finished editing it yet.

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 169 =====