Chapter 571

The moment that face, beautiful enough to make one sink, appeared, Abaddon's body stiffened violently.

Ancient memories were awakened in an instant.

That silver hair, that beautiful face, those violet eyes with sarcasm, those slightly raised, thin corners of the mouth...

Fulgrim!!!

The Primarch of the Emperor's Children, Fulgrim!!!

Didn't they say the era of the Primarchs was over?

How come in the last few decades, Primarchs have been appearing like dumplings?

Sanguinius, Guilliman, and Lion El'Jonson were one thing, but now even Fulgrim has started working for the Empire??

Abaddon almost turned and ran away directly, leaving the Red Angel alone to deal with this Primarch whose martial arts had reached the pinnacle.

But Abaddon's combat instinct still made him notice something strange.

He noticed that that Fulgrim didn't seem to be that powerful either.

Indeed, facing that Fulgrim's offensive, the Red Angel had almost no power to parry.

But Abaddon knew that if Fulgrim used his full strength, even Roboute Guilliman, who was also a Primarch, would perish.

The Red Angel, a mere demon, could actually barely save his life under Fulgrim's offensive; this was not right, this was very not right...

Abaddon saw a familiar feeling in Fulgrim.

Is that a clone Primarch?!

Abaddon had once led hundreds of Space Marines and Khayon and Khayon's Thousand Sons to surround and kill Horus's clone, and Abaddon had personally killed that clone Primarch with the Talon of Horus, so Abaddon could clearly feel the gap between a clone Primarch and a real Primarch.

The Fulgrim before him was clearly more like a clone Primarch, only more complete, more sober, and more rational than the clone Horus back then... but it was clearly also the creation of that bastard Fabius Bile.

Since that was the case, it was not impossible to fight, and Abaddon believed that his chances of winning were very high.

He had the magic sword Drach'nyen in his hand; in any case, a clone Primarch was still within the scope of humans, and Drach'nyen, born from the first murder of mankind, was the nemesis of all humans.

With his thoughts clear, Abaddon almost instantly turned into a pitch-black whirlwind, swinging the ghostly blue magic sword Drach'nyen to stab at Fulgrim——————

Drach'nyen stabbed into empty air, and Abaddon staggered and almost fell.

"Trash! How could you stab into empty air!" Abaddon cursed Drach'nyen.

Drach'nyen was stunned for a moment, and several question marks flashed across the sword body: "Are you fucking sick! You swung the sword, and you still have the nerve to blame me for not hitting??"

Fulgrim did not give Abaddon and Drach'nyen a chance to argue; he bit the high-efficiency pill hidden in his mouth, and his entire action efficiency rose by a large margin, turning into an afterimage, swinging the Forgebreaker warhammer in his hand to smash toward Abaddon.

Drach'nyen spat, forcibly controlling Abaddon's hand to swing himself toward Fulgrim.

The magic sword collided with Forgebreaker; Fulgrim felt a bone-chilling cold pain strike, and he could not help but retreat a few steps.

But Drach'nyen also noticed that the little bit of power he had just released did not continue to erode Fulgrim's body...

Fulgrim had a dagger made of obsidian hanging on his waist.

"Ritual Dagger?!"

Drach'nyen was slightly surprised.

This ritual dagger was forged from the eight fragments of the Anathame; it itself had the effects of cutting through reality, corrupting the greatest heroes, launching fatal attacks, and protecting the holder from fatal injuries.

But more importantly, the Anathame was the murder weapon used during the first murder of mankind and came from the same source as Drach'nyen.

That ritual dagger could, to a certain extent, neutralize Drach'nyen's nemesis effect on humans.

Of course, the ritual dagger was ultimately just eight fragments of the Anathame; even the Anathame itself had no way to neutralize all of Drach'nyen's power.

As long as Drach'nyen used his full strength, he could easily shatter that ritual dagger.

But the problem was, why should Drach'nyen use his full strength? What good would this do him? Why should he work so hard?

Why should he, a sword, work hard? He was just a sword!

And that Forgebreaker was also a decent weapon; what if he got himself blunted by colliding with it head-on?

Being a sword, the most important thing is to learn how to maintain yourself; using ten percent of your strength is enough to be worthy of the Four Gods.

With this thought, the ghostly blue light released from Drach'nyen's sword body suddenly brightened a bit, but the power he released weakened by a large margin.

But Abaddon did not know; he only felt that Drach'nyen seemed brighter than just now, thinking that Drach'nyen had become more serious and started to exert force.

Abaddon was overjoyed; in this way, his chances of winning were even greater.

The Black Warmaster took a step forward, the magic sword in his hand churning with rolling Warp evil energy, swinging down from top to bottom toward Fulgrim, with extraordinary momentum.

But Fulgrim held the hammer with both hands and swung it violently, colliding with Drach'nyen again.

Air waves rolled, but this time Drach'nyen was bounced away by Forgebreaker, shaking Abaddon into retreating again and again.

"What?" Abaddon was stunned.