Chapter 657

"Are you going to betray our father again?"

Ferrus held the flame sword he forged for Fulgrim with his own hands, and asked in a low voice.

Obviously, that child's corpse was trying to attack his mind in this way.

"You perhaps don't understand. If He wins the throne of Malicious Art in His way, the pressure on our father will suddenly double."

"If He can't hold on, the Dark King will be born, personally destroying this galaxy He cherishes."

Ferrus's voice was exactly the same as his former voice, making Fulgrim's body tremble for a moment.

But this clone of the Purple Phoenix gritted his teeth: "I believe in my father. The Master of Mankind will never fall."

"He has already fallen once, because of your—————"

Before Ferrus's voice fell, Fulgrim killed his way to Ferrus's front holding the Furnace-Breaker warhammer.

"Scum, if you dare to use Ferrus's voice to say one more word, I must let you know what pain is!"

Fulgrim's face was twisted, matching the three scars he drew on his face himself, making him look as terrifying as a Gorgon.

A moment of astonishment flashed across Ferrus's face.

This situation was a bit beyond his expectations.

How could it be like this?

Facing Ferrus, shouldn't Fulgrim be like Perturabo facing his mechanical sister, timid and afraid to take action?

Long Linxing clearly adopted psychological tactics similar to Zhou Yun's, but the effect achieved was somewhat different...

This made Long Linxing a bit annoyed. At the same time, reproducing Ferrus and Lion from time and space consumed a lot, and the longer they existed, the greater the consumption. And the greater the consumption here, the slower Long Linxing's speed toward the Old One treasury would be.

But at this time, there was no way to change generals before the battle.

He could only hope that Fulgrim would still have hesitation and delay when facing Ferrus...

The flame sword and the Furnace-Breaker collided, and flowing fire splashed in all directions.

Ferrus's pair of iron hands had even more powerful strength, forcefully pushing the sword and pressing Fulgrim backward. At the same time, the backpack of the Gorgon Armor on his body unfolded, and a pair of plasma burst cannons unfolded, aiming at Fulgrim's head.

Ferrus's strength was indeed greater, but in terms of speed, Fulgrim was still better.

Fulgrim's figure turned into a flow of purple and gold, instantly opening the distance from Ferrus. Plasma light shot toward Fulgrim continuously, but it was always a step slower than Fulgrim, leaving a series of burn marks on the ground.

Exquisite, isn't it?

Even if he is a despicable replica, he still has extraordinary talent.

Fulgrim thought while dodging Ferrus's attacks, staring at Ferrus.

He seemed to be talking to himself, and also seemed to be talking to someone else.

He is always so excellent, you are right. Look at those iron hands, flowing like mercury, strong and powerful while also being able to create extraordinary creations.

He is closer to the real Ferrus than those clumsy clones manufactured by Fabius. He is a reflection summoned from time and space, but...

"But he is not Ferrus," Fulgrim shouted loudly, as if talking to himself, and even more as if talking to another self.

Right, he is not... No matter how similar the appearance is, he is not Ferrus.

"He once forged swords for us with his own hands!"

We also once forged hammers for him.

"You know this is the deepest bond in his eyes."

Right, in his eyes, there is nothing more real trust than this.

He is a real warrior. A warrior always cares most about his weapons. He will not allow just anyone to forge weapons for him, nor will he forge weapons for just anyone.

"He trusts us, he relies on us!" Fulgrim said.

Yes, yes, and aren't we the same?

Ferrus wielded the flame sword, drawing a lethal arc, approaching Fulgrim's throat.

Fulgrim dodged, but the flame sword still drew a molten burn mark on his breastplate.

A good sword, but if the real Ferrus were here, your head would have already fallen off.

"This is the sword Ferrus forged for us with his own hands, this bastard..." Fulgrim bit his lip, a pair of violet eyes seeming to turn into burning purple fire.

I really hate you, you little bastard.

"I also really hate you, you coward."

But I hate this bastard who plays with Ferrus even more. Only I can... only I can play with Ferrus.

Accept my acceptance...

"Help me kill him." Fulgrim's face gradually became more like a ferocious poisonous snake, and his momentum changed.

In the Warp, the body of Fulgrim, the daemon Primarch of Slaanesh who was wantonly slaughtering Khorne daemons, suddenly trembled.

A Bloodthirster pounced up at this moment, and the heavy hammer in his hand smashed directly onto the face of this daemon Primarch of Slaanesh.

Fulgrim's tail went stiff, and he fell to the ground with a clang.

This scene stunned the Bloodthirster, who looked at the heavy hammer in his hand in disbelief.

Fulgrim's face was also a bit blank, not because he was inexplicably hit by a hammer, but because...

But because he noticed his inner self, some more essential things were lost, flowing toward the body of that clone.

As if some things inside him, his subconscious, thought that compared to the current self, he was more willing to accept that the clone was the real one.

And all this was because...

His love for Ferrus even made him betray himself.

"Bastard..." Annoyance surged from the bottom of his heart. His four arms wielded the blades, quickly cutting the Bloodthirster into pieces of meat.

"I am the real Fulgrim, the Phoenix Lord. How dare you, you fake..."

Fulgrim's face was twisted, but the Prince of Pleasure strictly forbade him from coveting the clone's body at this moment.

"Wait until He completes the ascension, I must take your body, devour your existence, and play with everything about you..."

Fulgrim held the Furnace-Breaker, but felt his soul holding another thing.

That was a kind of implicit thirst, not as ugly as greed, not as dirty as gluttony, not as thirsty as lust, not as unscrupulous as desire for power, not as hypocritical as vanity, not as idle as laziness.

That was the thirst for perfection, the thirst for absolute perfection, just like walking on a thin steel wire, the absolute perfection of not deviating or making mistakes. That kind of thirst was Fulgrim.

Fulgrim felt he was completely different at this moment. His body had no changes, but in a deeper place, he was just different.

Fulgrim also understood at this moment why he could never defeat Lion, defeat Sanguinius, or even defeat Guilliman, because they were not just a human.

They were the convergence of the thoughts of all living beings from ancient times to the present, a kind of massive trend. Unless it was an equally massive trend, it was absolutely impossible to block them.

But, but this Ferrus in front of him didn't have it.

This Ferrus in front of him was hollow. His body didn't have the fire of Medusa and the coldness of the Iron Hands. He was just a fake with Ferrus's shell.

He could easily defeat him.

Fulgrim's body dodged Ferrus's another sword in a posture infinitely close to perfection.

His figure was light, smooth, and everything was natural. He reached the pinnacle at this moment.

Ferrus swung his sword to stab again, but this was meaningless. Fulgrim dodged this sword lightly again, his body tilted fiercely toward Ferrus, and the Furnace-Breaker warhammer in his hand smashed toward Ferrus's iron hand.