Chapter 697: The wisdom of the old-generation lion tamers

Lion El'Jonson turned his head and looked at Azrael, who was trying to leave silently.

Azrael's steps were very light, just like a small black cat escaping from a terrifying beast, tiptoeing, his body trembling slightly, as if as long as he were discovered, he would fall to the ground on the spot, belly up, begging for mercy.

Needless to say, Azrael also knew that this behavior was avoidance, even carrying some disloyalty to his genetic father. But after personally facing the Lion, Azrael had to admit a fact:

He was just afraid.

When facing the Lion, all sophistry, all reasons vanished. From within Azrael, only pure fear surged out. He simply couldn't muster the courage to face the Lion directly.

Quietly leave, don't shoot.

"Where do you want to go?" A gloomy questioning voice sounded, and a palm covered in dark green armor was placed on Azrael's shoulder.

The power armor on Azrael's body instantly caved in, and a burst of soreness surged from his shoulder, mixed with the terrifying fear surging from the person behind him. Azrael's knees went soft, half of his body fell down, while the other half was pulled high by Lion.

Lion's other hand extended a finger, gripping Azrael's helmet. His fingers exerted force abruptly, and Azrael's helmet burst with a bang. That face, which was somewhat similar to Lion's but didn't have the gloominess common to Caliban people, instead carried a kind of roughness similar to Fenrisians, and between his brows, there was a kind of strange sense of humor.

In fact, many battle-brothers had sighed that Azrael's personality was not very Dark Angel-like. He always liked to make some teasing jokes, his words and actions carried a weird sense of humor, and he liked to provoke and tease teammates and enemies. Azrael had also always believed that one of his responsibilities included mediating the gloomy atmosphere of the chapter.

It was just that in this atmosphere, Azrael felt that no matter what, he couldn't mediate it.

Azrael faced the Lion's face directly, a highly awkward smile crossing his mouth.

He felt that death was approaching at an extremely fast speed. Azrael felt that he had to say something, because that might very well be the last sentence of his life, his last words.

But looking at the face hidden behind the gray-gold beard of the Lion, Azrael's mind went blank. Finally, he opened his mouth slightly:

"Radiant glory, Father." Azrael blurted out.

"Ha!" Lion issued a low roar of rage. The scorching killing intent made Azrael's skin ache. In Azrael's eyes, the Lion's figure was constantly growing, growing, until it filled the entire space, turning into a hideous Caliban beast. His breathing turned into a scorching hot wind, smashing onto Azrael's face, making Azrael's skin ache.

Azrael saw Lion raise his fist. In Azrael's view, death had become a foregone conclusion. Who else could block a Primarch's killing intent?

Harel swung his sword to meet it, the sharp blade breaking through the air, blocking in front of Lion's fist. That master-crafted power sword actually twisted and deformed under the Primarch's fist.

But even so, Harel had truly blocked a punch from Lion. Azrael couldn't help but show astonishment. He looked at Harel's back, as if he were not looking at a brother of the same era, but at a hero of the Great Crusade.

Lion seemed not too shocked, slowly moving his fist away.

"Move aside." Lion said in an unquestionable tone.

Harel tilted his body slightly, revealing a posture of half-yielding and half-not.

Harel understood that he must never refuse the Lion in a rage; that would only further enrage the Lion, making the Lion even more impossible to persuade. But completely obeying the Lion was naturally not feasible either. He had to grasp the balance between refusal and obedience, finding that point of just right.

"My lord, I once fought side by side with him for several months. I can guarantee his loyalty to you. The reason he retreated was only because of fear..."

Harel was not a fool. He could realize that the Lion's rage had a reason, but he deliberately appeared at a loss, pretending to think that Lion's rage was because of the cowardice and retreat shown by his brother:

"As Fallen Angels, we have been hunted by the current Dark Angels chapter for ten thousand years. Caution has long been carved into our bones. It is difficult to accept the change in identity for a while... You may not know how cruel the hunting we have suffered is, especially in recent years, after that new chapter master named Azrael took office, their methods have become increasingly cruel."

Listening to Harel's words, Azrael's head tilted slightly, his eyes somewhat floating.

Lion's expression also changed slightly. Although the anger did not subside much, it was no longer as violent as just now.

Success... Harel breathed a sigh of relief in his heart. This was the method Luther taught him many years ago. It was truly the wisdom of the old-generation lion tamers.

It was just that Lion's expression at this time made Harel feel somewhat strange. The look Lion gave Harel was somewhat weird, even with a bit of teasing.

This was very strange to Harel; he had almost never seen the Lion show such an expression.

"He is Azrael." Lion raised his voice slightly and said.

"...?" Harel tilted his head slightly, seemingly not quite understanding what Lion was saying.

"He is not a Fallen Angel; he is the Azrael who persecutes you." Lion sneered and said.

Harel's body stiffened, staring fixedly at Azrael, whose gaze was floating.

"I did it only for the benefit of the chapter, to protect the secrets of the Dark Angels. Harel, brothers like you who still maintain loyalty and can turn back are only a minority." Azrael smiled bitterly and said: "The interior of the Unforgiven is indeed becoming increasingly extreme, but I am actually a moderate, having tried hard to suppress it to prevent excessive extremism."

"... You are right." Harel sighed slightly, nodded to acknowledge Azrael's words, and then looked at Lion: "My lord, I am indeed quite dissatisfied with him, but he should not die because of this. The fault is not in him, but in fate. It was the destruction of Caliban that tore our legion apart, making us fall into a situation of mutual slaughter, not the fault of one person..."

"Caliban was destroyed by him." Lion said lightly.

"... Ah?" Harel looked at Lion in a daze. What was Lion saying? No matter what, Azrael could not possibly have anything to do with the destruction of Caliban.

When Azrael was born, Caliban had already been destroyed for nearly ten thousand years. How could he possibly...

Harel looked at Azrael. He sensed Azrael's guilty conscience and wavering. The keen observation and judgment skills developed by the Dark Angels' gene-seed and long training made Harel instantly determine:

Lion was not joking. The true culprit of Caliban's destruction was indeed Azrael.

"Ha!!!"

Harel issued a low roar, and the sharp blade in his hand, which had been twisted by Lion's fist, slashed directly at Azrael's face.

This power sword had already been damaged, leaving a deep bloodstain on Azrael's face, but it failed to kill him.

Harel dropped the power sword directly, smashing his fist toward Azrael's face. The sound of bone breaking sounded from under Azrael's skin. He staggered back a few steps, only to be grabbed by Harel again.

"What on earth did you do?" Harel roared and questioned. ===== CHAPTER 698 =====