Chapter 507

The Changeling was banished back to the waves of the Warp, cursing; he should have returned directly to Tzeentch's realm.

But for some reason, the Crystal Labyrinth was self-sealed, isolated from reality, and this isolation came from the power of the Master of Change himself.

This made the Changeling hit his head in pain, re-condensing his form in the Warp not far from the Lion's heart-world outside the Crystal Labyrinth.

"I originally wanted to rest for a while, how could the Lion wake up so early?!"

The Changeling said somewhat tiredly and painfully:

"And how could that madman Konrad Curze suddenly pop out?"

Although the task of blocking the Lion's resurrection failed, the Changeling was not very worried about Tzeentch's anger.

First, Tzeentch himself was clearly focusing on more important things now, otherwise he wouldn't have sealed the realm and shut himself in the Crystal Labyrinth.

Secondly, the failure of this task was within expectations; from the beginning, the Changeling's task was to delay the Lion from recovering his full strength; no one really thought the Changeling could block the Lion.

He is the Changeling, the incarnation of Tzeentch's deceit and fraud, not Tzeentch himself.

What's more, Konrad Curze suddenly popped out this time; facing two Primarchs at once, the Changeling's failure was completely acceptable.

The Changeling looked at the sealed Crystal Labyrinth, pondering what to do while he had the time?

Go change Ferrus's skull into an Ork Warboss's head?

Pretend to be a diplomat of a newborn civilization and trick the T'au into diplomacy with the Tyranids?

Or secretly sprinkle a handful of blight pathogens into Fabius Bile's biological pool?

Oh my, so conflicted, how can there be so much fun to be had in this galaxy?

The Changeling was a bit melancholy, a bit conflicted, couldn't help but smack his lips————

Huh?

The Changeling's body froze; he moved his gaze blankly, seeing a golden fishhook hanging on the corner of his mouth at some unknown time, the fishhook connected to a thread as scorching as sunlight, extending all the way to the highest point of the Warp...

The Changeling's body trembled slightly as he raised his head, looking in the direction where the fishing line was hanging down.

A dilapidated small wooden boat was floating on the water surface, on which an old man with a hunched figure, seriously injured, wearing a worn-out golden crown, was fishing.

His crimson blood stained the sky of the Warp red; the "fish" he was fishing for was the Changeling himself.

Terror appeared on the Changeling's face; he suddenly remembered that this old man had always been in the Lion's heart-world, always watching the Changeling silently, but the Changeling had actually ignored him.

The blood overflowing from the old man gradually oxidized and turned black, circling in the sky, turning into a pitch-black sun, beginning to burn scorching hot.

The Changeling saw that the Cursed One was sitting on the Golden Throne, staring at the Changeling.

"My Lord!!! Save me!!!" The Changeling exclaimed toward the Crystal Labyrinth.

But no sound came from the Crystal Labyrinth, not the slightest reaction.

Tzeentch had completely sealed the Crystal Labyrinth, and was concentrating on dealing with Nurgle and Slaanesh's opportunism, while the Cursed One's scorching psychic power was isolating this area of the Warp; at this very moment, Tzeentch did not perceive what the Changeling had encountered at all, and even if he did, he couldn't do anything.

The fishing line tightened suddenly, and the Changeling was dragged uncontrollably toward the pitch-black sun in the sky.

The Changeling's flexible brain worked rapidly, wanting to find a way to escape, but he racked his brains and couldn't think of a way, finally...

"Your Majesty!! Spare me!!!"

The Changeling shouted toward the pitch-black sun in the sky:

"I beg you, I have sweated for humanity, I have bled for the Empire, I have worked overtime for the Administration!"

"I have carried five sectors and one million worlds of the Empire on my shoulders... I... I am your loyal subject! You cannot kill me!!!"

"I can also be loyal!! I can also contribute to the Empire, to humanity!"

"I don't want anything, I just purely hope to contribute to humanity!"

"I don't want rewards, loyalty itself is the reward!"

The Changeling squeezed out all his intelligence, but the fishing line tightened more and more, dragging the Changeling directly into the pitch-black sun.

Blood flowed from M'kar's back; this Daemon Prince looked at Zabriel behind him in terror and disbelief.

He didn't understand, didn't understand why this Fallen Angel, who was once a Crownless Prince, suddenly betrayed him.

Not just Zabriel, some Fallen Angels retreated behind other Fallen Angels at some unknown time, suddenly launching an attack on their companions, forming a pincer attack with the Ultramarines and Flesh Tearers.

Those betraying Fallen Angels were all veterans, seasoned, originally the backbone of the Fallen Angels. "Why?" M'kar screamed and questioned.

"Why?"

Zabriel tilted his head, seemingly not understanding how M'kar could ask such a stupid question:

"We don't know who is the traitor between Lion and Lu Se."

"We don't know why the Fall of Caliban happened back then."

"We also don't know what Lu Se is trying to do sneakily now."

"But we know one thing: before becoming Dark Angels, we were the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang's Crownless Princes, the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang's first batch of Death Angels."

"Traitor, I ask you: does loyalty need a reason?"

"When, when did you gather together? Why didn't I notice at all?" M'kar wailed and questioned.

"Are you really a member of the Dark Angels? Isn't forming such secret small groups our specialty?"

Zabriel said as a matter of course:

"Lu Se might have noticed, but I think he doesn't care about these."

M'kar roared and cursed, struggling to resist.

But Zabriel displayed martial arts far stronger than just now, easily cutting off M'kar's head with the sword in his hand.

This Daemon Prince was then banished back to the Warp, dissipating into the air.

"Why do you use the secret hand gestures inside the Blood Angels?" Gabriel Seth stared at Zabriel and questioned.

"Your gestures?" Zabriel couldn't help but laugh out loud: "Those were gestures designed when we were still called Crownless Princes."

"We are the original of all legions; many tactics, secret codes, and organizational methods you use were designed and honed by us at that time, and then passed on to each legion."

"It's just that later people forgot these, forgot who paved the smooth path you stepped on initially."

Zabriel stared at Seth and said:

"I have lived on the outpost planet of the Crimson Crescent Chapter, I know you are still using this set of gestures."

Seth snorted coldly, not commenting on Zabriel's words.

Zabriel revealed a trace of confusion: "But I am very puzzled, puzzled that you actually accepted cooperating with me so smoothly; I thought you were a persistent and inflexible person."

Hearing this, Seth's face revealed some strangeness; he just wanted to speak, but the light door of the previous cabin suddenly trembled, and a figure almost like a daemon crawled out from it.

That daemon was bathed in blood, his limbs were extremely mutated, his power armor turned into a carapace and stuck to his body, his bare arms holding a ferocious chain-axe.

That daemon didn't care about the battle in this cabin, drilling into the light door leading to the next cabin at a speed difficult to capture with the naked eye.

Zabriel was dumbfounded.

"We even cooperated with this thing." Seth's tone had a little bit of despair: "What else can't we cooperate with?"

(End of chapter)