Chapter 600

Inside the *Glory of the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang*, Sol, wearing power armor interwoven with purple, white, and gold, hid between the ship's pipes, lowering his breathing as much as possible, not letting himself be exposed to those cold metallic undead sensors.

His silver-gold hair was slightly messy, clinging to his cheeks, and a trace of helpless, bitter laughter hung on his handsome face, which was born from his own gene-seed.

In fact, he still had not figured out the situation to this day.

He had been released by the Necron Crowned General Trazyn.

That old general, although an alien, was a person of noble character.

Trazyn returned Sol's ship, and most of the crew on the *Glory of the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang* were unharmed.

Even before leaving, Trazyn gifted Sol a Necron hyperphase sword he had specially crafted, shaped like a court sword, to compensate for the power sword that had been severed by him.

Sol, who had been suddenly released by Trazyn, could not figure out the current situation of the Empire and the galaxy; he had originally intended to head to Terra.

But...

But his navigator accidentally brought him to the edge of the Nephilim Sector, the reason being that the outer edge of the Nephilim Sector was now surrounded by a scorching golden Warp storm; in the navigator's perspective, that light was very close to the light of the Astronomican, so his crew mistook it for the Astronomican and brought Sol to this vicinity.

Even more unlucky was that when Sol emerged from the Warp, he was right in the center of the Necron Stormlord Imotekh's forces.

Sol and the *Glory of the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang* were naturally chased and killed by this group of Necrons; if it weren't for the fact that after approaching the Nephilim Sector, some changes had appeared in Sol himself, allowing him to use this to maneuver with the Necrons, he and his ship would probably have become space junk long ago.

Sol heard the clinking footsteps, like the sound of metal striking another piece of metal; the corner of his eye vaguely saw some ghostly green light.

"Do it..."

A voice sounded within Sol's body.

That seemed to be a voice from the depths of his mind, a voice that seemed to exist within his body before he was even born, a whisper that seemed to come from his genetic sequence, a voice that seemed to come from the end of death.

Scorching heat burned in Sol's gene-seed, guiding Sol's body to swing that Necron hyperphase sword.

This guidance from within the gene-seed had existed since the day Sol became an Astartes, but it only became more obvious and clear after arriving at the edge of the Nephilim Sector and approaching that roaring golden Warp storm.

But, it was not just the voice from the gene-seed that was guiding Sol.

There was another force, a cold, gray, malicious, and nasty soul surging within Sol's body, also guiding the trajectory of Sol's sword swings.

Unlike the voice in the gene-seed, the voice in the gene-seed was teaching and guiding Sol.

While that cold and malicious soul was simply like forcibly controlling Sol's body, rough and unbearable.

The slender blade cut through the cold darkness, and hideous sword marks appeared on more than ten Necron warriors at the same time.

Those Necrons fell in the blink of an eye; even living metal could not block that deadly, biting blade.

"... I am more powerful than him, my swordsmanship is more lethal than his, learn my power..."

The cold and malicious whispering echoed in Sol's ears, tempting Sol to learn his swordsmanship and accept his power... He guaranteed in the name of the Lord of Hunger that this was not an attempt to possess Sol, just pure teaching.

He seemed to have parasitized Sol's body a long time ago, because Sol had participated in his previous death, and Sol, unlike Saul Tarvitz, did not feel the slightest bit of honor about this.

But Sol was considered to have received the blessing of Saint Doraemon; the Lord of Hunger, who granted the cold voice the gift of constant resurrection, was unwilling to offend Saint Doraemon and had never granted him the power to possess Sol.

Until not long ago, the cold voice seemed to have gained some power; this power was not enough to let him possess Sol, but it could let him speak to Sol, teach Sol, guide Sol, and help Sol...

The voice claimed that this was a task given to him by the Lord of Hunger; the Lord of Hunger wanted to help Saint Doraemon in this way. As long as Sol accepted his teaching and help, the Lord of Hunger would let him resurrect in another body.

Sol naturally did not believe his nonsense, always suspecting that this was some kind of corruption.

Just at this moment, a series of memories emerged in Sol's mind; those were memories hidden in the gene-seed.

In the memory, "Sol" stood on a ruin; in front of him was an arrogant-looking Hua Hua Hua Di Huang's Child, Lu Xiusi, who had not yet fallen into being a Chosen of Slaanesh.

"Sol" punched Lu Xiusi in the face; Lu Xiusi wailed and then, like a stray dog, climbed onto the roof and fled in an ugly manner...

Lu Xiusi in this scene was so much like a stray dog on the side of the road, ugly and ridiculous; the comical appearance even made a small smile appear on the corner of Sol's mouth.

"Tarvitz, you f***ed your gene-father's..." the cold voice cursed in a rage.

"Traitor, you forgot that we are one gene-father..."

"I know, but I really have f***ed him, it was very smooth..."

The two voices argued in Sol's mind; Sol's expression was a bit strange, and some bizarre memories kept flashing back in his mind, things like the *Pears of Pain*...

But Sol had no time to look at those ancient memories; he had to change his position immediately.

These Necron warriors were not worth mentioning at all; the truly dangerous one was the Phaeron himself.

Imotekh looked coldly at the three-dimensional map of the ship that appeared before him.

On it, more than ten Necron warriors had disappeared in the cabin.

Imotekh had originally only thought that the human named Sol was an excellent commander; now it seemed he was also a highly skilled swordsman.

This person not only inexplicably appeared in the core position of Imotekh's army, causing damage to several ships, but also safely escaped into the starry sky, circling with Imotekh's fleet and playing guerrilla warfare.

Just one person and one ship had actually caused considerable trouble for Imotekh's troops, and even several times almost charged in front of Imotekh's flagship.

What made Imotekh most uncomfortable was that this human was also like a schizophrenic, often showing two or even three different command and combat styles, making Imotekh feel a bit like he was fighting Orks.

Imotekh was good at using logical thinking to predict all factors that might occur on the battlefield, formulating plans precise enough to control the entire battlefield.

Encountering this kind of opponent who was a bit chaotic and illogical, Imotekh really had a hard time dealing with it.

The Stormlord spent a full six days forcing the human named Sol into a corner.

But Imotekh did not choose to destroy this ship directly with ship weapons.

Sol's resistance over these six days had earned Imotekh's respect; he was a strong man.

Toward a strong man, Imotekh was always willing to give them a chance to challenge him directly.

This was both an honor for the opponent and a way for Imotekh to prove his own strength.

He did not even intend to kill Sol; he would cut off one of Sol's arms and then spare Sol's life, giving him a chance for revenge.

This was Imotekh's confidence, this was Imotekh's pride.

He was not a tyrant, not a slaughterer, not a madman; he was an irresistible order. Those who were unwilling to submit to him could resist, but in the end, they would find that they were still within Imotekh's order.