Chapter 660: Fine, I

It was as if viscous machine oil had soaked through his entire body, as if dispersed incense had drifted through every pore, as if sweet, sticky bacteria dissolving leaves had crawled all over him, as if he had fallen into a sea of stars made of delicious dorayaki, as if scorching inspiration and creativity had replaced every cell in his flesh and blood.

If one were to feel it more carefully, the things soaking beside Zhou Yun were emotions, faith, and echoes.

The joy produced by the burst of inspiration, intense thirst for knowledge, the impulse to innovate, flickering curiosity, malicious creativity—these emotions wove into bones.

The pious faith in Saint Doraemon, the hymns echoing in thousands of cathedrals, the pious binary prayers of the Adeptus Mechanicus—these faiths turned into flesh.

The crisp sound of the first ape-man striking flint, the roar of the first gunpowder exploding in an alchemy furnace, the deafening sound of an atomic bomb bursting—these echoes turned into blood.

Zhou Yun felt himself being stretched very, very, very long at this moment, so long that he existed in every moment from the past to the present, existing at every point in time when inspiration burst forth, existing at every moment when a new invention was born.

He stood on a wilderness, feeling the gravel sliding across his ankles, watching an ape-man crawling on the ground, digging a piece of gravel from the earth with hairy fingers.

The ape-man's fingers turned the gravel, observing its perfectly sharp corners, and the light of inspiration began to burst forth in his wet eyes within deep eye sockets.

He slowly raised the other stone in his hand, about to strike it against this gravel.

But just at this moment, a gloomy, hoarse curse woven in primitive language rang out——————

A sharp war spear pierced Slaanesh's chest, and purple or pink blood flowed from the body of this Lord of Hunger.

That war spear was the reflection of an ancient war in the Warp, the manifestation of that war that had just ended between the Aeldari and the Dragon Kingdoms who had traveled back in time, and it was one of the Blood God's most cherished collections.

In that war, the Aeldari predicted the future, while the Dragon Kingdoms repeatedly traveled through time, attacking the Aeldari from the past, and this war spear naturally carried the same effect.

It could awaken some injuries from the past.

Slaanesh let out an unbearable scream, and the twin swords transformed from hair slipped from her fingertips, disintegrating in the Warp.

Twisted faces emerged on Slaanesh's abdomen, chest, back, and arms.

Asuryan's fire burned half of Slaanesh's body red, the Crone Goddess's scream made her skin begin to wrinkle, the Wanderer Hoec tried to escape Slaanesh's body, and Vaul gazed enviously at the Malicious Craft domain high above.

Those Aeldari gods who had once been swallowed into Slaanesh's belly but had never been truly digested were awakened from the past and began to resist Slaanesh at this moment.

Slaanesh's eyes trembled; she had never expected Khorne to be so decisive, his strike so ruthless.

There was no doubt that Khorne's spear was aimed at killing her completely.

This madman—this madman actually wanted to seize the gap where Zhou Yun had not yet completed his ascension, crushing Ynnead, and making Slaanesh completely complete, to kill Slaanesh in one battle, adding the skull of a god to his throne.

This blood-crazed madman must have a problem with his brain. Was it necessary to go to such lengths?

After Zhou Yun ascended, Slaanesh could have become their ally. Beheading Slaanesh here was simply a loss-making behavior!

However, the Blood God did not care about these at all.

The gains and losses of war were never what he worried about. He only cared about that smear of bright red and the skull that served as a trophy of victory.

On the contrary, in Khorne's view, Slaanesh was not pure enough, not thorough enough, not perfect enough.

Were the honor and pleasure brought by slaughter not the common parts between their domains?

Why did Slaanesh care about those irrelevant interests instead of enjoying the sense of fulfillment brought by slaughter?

A weak young god—the Blood God would teach her the meaning of slaughter.

The Blood God let out roars of battle, and the iron cavalry under his command turned into a tide, surging toward Slaanesh's domain. Even Fulgrim could not suppress such a massive army with his own strength.

And Khorne also reached out his hand at this moment toward the layers of weapon tides on his throne.

He pulled out the war that had directly birthed him, the war that had burned countless stars and incinerated the entire star sea, that brass giant sword that pierced straight into the clouds.

That war... "The War in Heaven."

The Blood God sat on the Huang Tong Wang Zuo, holding the brass giant sword high, aiming at Slaanesh, who was pierced by the spear and nailed to the Empyrean.

Today, he would behead a god——————

The buzzing of flies echoed throughout the Warp, and massive flies converged into a sea of flies, rising from Nurgle's domain and pouncing toward Khorne's domain.

Grandfather's figure emerged amidst the fly clouds that pressed down like dark clouds. This decaying, festering, swollen deity chanted a series of sticky incantations, and the cauldron before him tipped over, spilling toward Khorne's army.

Khorne let out an angry roar, and the brass giant sword in his hand fell with a crash, pressing toward Nurgle with the boundless fire of war.

Nurgle raised his hand, and a large bell covered in copper rust appeared in his hand. The bell rang seven times, as if playing a requiem for the fate of the world rotting to its end, hard-blocking Khorne's terrifying sword.

Sharp chanting also rang out at this moment, and a constantly changing vortex swirled toward Nurgle. The magic spells of lightning, crystal, and fire constantly changing fought with the fly clouds around Nurgle.

Cracks began to appear on the cauldron and the large bell in Grandfather's hands. This Plague God was crying out in his heart.

He had not expected that Slaanesh would be severely injured or even almost killed by Khorne, who was already paralyzed on the Huang Tong Wang Zuo and unable to leave the Huang Tong Wang Zuo for eternity.

If Slaanesh were really killed, Grandfather alone would have no way to confront Khorne and Tzeentch at the same time. He could only brace himself and rush forward, temporarily resisting the attacks of Khorne and Tzeentch with his own strength, giving Slaanesh a chance to heal.

At the same time, a light sound of footsteps rang out at this moment. A pale, weak, and thin beautiful woman walked out slowly from Nurgle's Garden. Her footsteps stepped on the Empyrean, and in an instant, pale, delicate lily flowers bloomed, spreading all the way to Slaanesh's side.

This goddess placed her fingers gently on Slaanesh's body pierced by the war spear, healing Slaanesh's body. The twisted human faces on Slaanesh's body cursed this goddess.

"... For, our child..." the goddess said weakly and powerlessly.

Khorne also let out an angry war roar, not because Nurgle blocked him, but because of Tzeentch.

After seeing Slaanesh severely injured and Nurgle suppressed, Tzeentch did not hesitate to draw away at least one-third of his own power, extending it toward the Malicious Craft domain.

Khorne wanted to take Slaanesh's skull, but Tzeentch cared more about his own grand plan. He did not want Zhou Yun's ascension to succeed.

His power began to extend to every corner of time and space...

A gloomy, hoarse curse woven in primitive language rang out on the gravel-filled earth. The primitive wizard cursed the ape-man who had just birthed inspiration.

The ape-man let out a sharp wail, holding his suddenly painful head and wailing in pain on the ground.

The primitive wizard cackled, happy that he had interrupted the progress of technology.

But... the obsidian axe blade slashed down, and the wizard's head fell to the ground.

The ape-man let out a joyful roar. New inspiration burst forth in his mind. The flint was struck into a blade, turning into an axe that he wielded in his hand.

The tribal wizards let out angry roars. They wielded the scepters covered in beast skulls in their hands, calling down lightning, storms, and clouds, pressing toward the ape-man who had just created the axe blade.

The craftsmen reached out their rough hands, pulling out newly cast bronze swords from the furnace fire whistling in the rainy night, wielding them to slash at the wizards calling for rain.

The shamans danced dances that were hard to understand, sparks flashing from their hands, burning toward the warriors wielding bronze blades.

Thus, amidst the ringing of hammers and the trampling of leather, the riders leaped up from the grasslands, jumped onto the saddles, stepped on the stirrups, and charged toward the shamans in the forest.

The mages held high crystal balls, the light of the stars rippling within them, but the gunpowder in the alchemy furnace burst forth, pushing the steel giant cannons to tear through the magic spells just woven.

The steam locomotive hummed, surging like a tide on the railway, faster than the mages flying in the high sky.

The brilliant crystals refracted the light of ten thousand changes, shooting toward the fighters who had just flown into the sky, tearing through those attempts of humans to fly into the sky.

But the rockets were not confined to the earth, breaking through the clouds and flying into the boundless void. Looking back, the figures of the gods were no longer visible in the sky.