Chapter 694: Luther and Lord Cypher

Azrael saw that dark green figure—gloomy, strong, and terrifying. Just a distant glance made Azrael feel fear from the marrow of his bones.

The Lion, Lion El'Jonson, appeared at some point in the deep flesh tunnel before him, so suddenly, so inexplicably.

Azrael was almost instantly convinced that this was the Hive Mind playing the same old trick again. That special brain bug named The Doom of Ma Lan'tai was trying to confuse his mind in this way, to lure him, to devour his soul.

Thus, this former Supreme Grand Master of the Dark Angels hesitated for only two seconds before drawing the blade at his waist.

Before the Harel beside Azrael could react, Azrael flashed as swiftly as a black cat in the forest, circling to the side of that figure, squatting down silently.

Harel noticed this scene, and he also saw the Lion. He wanted to stop Azrael's behavior, but upon thinking that it was Azrael who had seen through the illusion woven by The Doom of Ma Lan'tai last time, Harel's actions hesitated for an instant.

In this very instant, the Lion standing in the flesh tunnel seemed to sense Azrael's presence. He turned his head slightly, about to look behind him.

Opportunity!

Azrael let out a low hiss, the blade in his hand as sharp as a cat's fang, stabbing directly toward the Lion's body.

The Lion turned his head, his reaction speed faster than Azrael's sword.

Those gloomy eyes hidden beneath the dark golden mane locked onto Azrael's body in a span of time too short to be shorter.

In an instant, Azrael felt as if his body had been pierced by thousands of rough obsidian blades. Intense pain burned every ganglion in his body.

His expression trembled slightly. He remembered when he was young, when he was still a cave-dwelling child on a cold planet. He had hidden under the snow, waiting in the bitter winter for a snowfield beast born with thick fur, and in his hand, he held only a short dagger made from the beast's teeth.

He had done such things many times; he had to win back the fur needed for the winter for his tribe.

But that time, he failed.

Perhaps that old beast was too cunning, perhaps his young body could not bear the cold and trembled slightly. In short, he was exposed the moment before he acted.

That winter beast just looked down at him with a gloomy, cunning, and fierce gaze, staring at him, as if wanting to tear his body apart inch by inch, to see his warm internal organs.

The feeling at that time was similar to the current one, but also completely different.

Azrael could feel the gap between Azrael and the man before him was even greater than the gap between him as a child and that snowfield giant beast back then.

The Azrael of that year had fought to the death to kill that snowfield giant beast, but he now had absolutely no chance to kill this man.

Bang!!!!

A slap landed on the head of Azrael's helmet.

Azrael's head, along with his body, flew backward, flying toward the rear side, crashing heavily into the flesh wall of the flesh corridor.

Azrael's head was chaotic, dizziness sweeping through his entire body. He felt that the part of his brain responsible for balance had been precisely destroyed by that slap from the Lion.

At this moment, a bitter smile crossed the corner of his mouth.

How could it really be the Lion... That slap just now, without a doubt, this was the real Lion El'Jonson, the First Primarch, the Emperor's eldest son.

He had actually swung his sword at the Lion just now. Azrael could sense the anger surging from the Lion.

An Astartes actually dared to sneak attack him from behind just as he entered the battlefield. How could the Lion not be angry at such a near-betrayal behavior?

"No!" A figure blocked between Azrael and the Lion. Harel raised the thick greatsword in his hand, blocking directly in front of Lion El'Jonson.

What made Azrael even more stunned was that Harel's posture of holding the sword was completely different from before, yet it made Azrael incomparably familiar.

That was the starting stance of the Caliban sword technique.

"My son." There was no question in the Lion's tone, only certainty.

"Ah..." The dizzy Azrael opened his mouth slightly, somewhat dazed and astonished, but upon careful thought, he realized this was not unexpected.

"Sorry, brother, I have become somewhat accustomed to being vigilant, hiding the fact that I am actually the same as you. I am also one of those 'Fallen Angels' in the mouths of the juniors."

No, actually we are different, I am not a Fallen Angel. Honestly, Azrael wished he were just an ordinary passing Fallen Angel right now.

"Move aside." The Lion drew his longsword, which exceeded Azrael's expectations.

Could it be that in the Lion's combat instinct, Harel was an opponent worthy of drawing his sword?

The Loyalty sword broke through the air, fast to the point of making Azrael's scalp tingle.

But Harel raised the longsword in his hand, tilting the blade, his legs bending slightly, actually unloading the power of the Lion's sword, blocking this strike.

"Oh?" The Lion's voice rose slightly, as if sensing something interesting.

Sword and sword collided back and forth at an extremely fast speed. The smile at the corner of the Lion's mouth became clearer and clearer.

And Harel was actually trading blows with a Primarch relying on the body of a mere Astartes.

The Lion raised the sword in his hand slightly, catching a flaw in Harel's sword technique with an extremely subtle change, making Harel retreat two or three steps.

"So it was you, my little brother." The Lion seemed to recognize Harel, his tone becoming softer.

"Harel, I am now named Harel." Harel lowered his head and said, guarding in front of Azrael: "My lord, he absolutely did not intend to swing his sword at you. The swarm once used illusions to confuse us; he mistakenly thought you were an illusion."

"Why be so nervous... Harel." The Lion nodded slightly: "Since my return, the number of times my sons have swung their swords at me is countless. I no longer feel much anger."

"I just wanted to verify his identity..." The Lion's words lowered slightly, becoming somewhat deep.

Harel hesitated for an instant, gently moving aside some space.

"Take off your helmet." The Lion ordered Azrael.

Azrael's body stiffened, not moving.

"Take off your helmet!" The Lion's words this time carried unquestionable power.

Azrael shook all over, his arms raising with a slight tremor, his hands placed on both sides of the helmet, pulling upward—

Crack!

Azrael's helmet was stuck on his head. That slap Lion had just given had caused Azrael's helmet to deform and twist; it actually couldn't be pulled off now.

But the Lion's gaze remained as sharp as a knife, unquestionable.

Under the urging of this gaze, Azrael tried hard to take off his helmet. After some delay, he finally pulled the helmet out a little bit.

Azrael was sweating profusely. He had a premonition that if he took off his helmet, he might just...

A little bit of Azrael's chin was exposed.

"Luther?" Just at this moment, Lion seemed to have a feeling, turning his head abruptly and shouting toward behind him.

Grabbing this opportunity, Azrael pulled his helmet back onto his head.

Lion El'Jonson looked back at this moment, looking behind him. Shadows were wriggling in the flesh tunnel, and a familiar aura diffused from the shadows. ===== CHAPTER 695 =====