Chapter 700: Abaddon was let go by Guilliman!

The ground was sticky, biological matter and large amounts of foul-smelling secretions covered the ground, passing over Azrael's half-calf. Every step was extremely difficult, as if there were many small organisms invisible to the naked eye in these yellow translucent suspensions dragging his legs, which was extremely disgusting.

As an Astartes experienced in battle, Azrael naturally could not be affected by the external environment.

What truly made him feel uncomfortable was the atmosphere around him. The Consecrators followed beside the Lion, silent, but the gazes looking at Azrael carried a little hostility.

Harel was also silent. Azrael could faintly sense that there were probably many secrets on this brother of his.

That superb sword technique, the understanding of Cypher, and the relationship with the Lion all indicated that the identity of this brother of his in the past First Legion was probably not ordinary.

Facing the Lion again and the stimulation of the illusion released by The Doom of Ma Lan'tai just now seemed to have made his thoughts chaotic and heavy. Along the way, except for killing enemies, he almost said nothing.

As for the atmosphere among the Deathwatch Black Shields, it was filled with a kind of awkwardness. Most of these people had committed unforgivable mistakes, and some were simply from renegade or fallen chapters, and even more were descendants of rebellious legions. Following a Primarch known for ferocity, keenness, and terror, it was inevitable that they would be somewhat nervous.

Azrael couldn't help but think... among these Black Shield brothers of his, there might be a few Fallen Angels.

"These disgusting liquids, we wouldn't have drilled into the gonads of the bugs, would we?"

Azrael tried to ease the atmosphere and said jokingly.

But there was only an awkward, dead silence in the air. No one echoed Azrael's joke.

Only a few Consecrators looked at Azrael with suspicious gazes, and even more cast nearly threatening gazes at Azrael, signaling him to shut his mouth.

Azrael shrugged his shoulders somewhat helplessly, sighing that his brothers were all too rigid, serious, and gloomy.

He turned his head, wanting to figure out a joke related to the gloomy atmosphere of the Dark Angels.

But the Lion stopped his steps at this moment, turning his head to look at Azrael.

Azrael trembled violently, thinking that his words had angered the Lion again, and quickly fell silent.

"You are very keen." Lion said in a low voice.

Azrael blinked, not understanding what Lion meant.

I saw Lion waving the power sword named Loyalty in his hand, splitting the pus on the ground, exposing the flesh-and-blood pipes that looked like blood vessels under the semi-transparent pus.

In those flesh-and-blood pipes, one could faintly see some worms wriggling rapidly.

Lion swung the Loyalty sword and slashed down. The blood vessels wrapped in pus ruptured, and those worms drilled out.

Azrael could clearly see that there were some cysts on the backs of those worms.

Lion slashed down with his sword, instantly smashing these worms into fragments. Those cysts ruptured, flowing out some flocculent matter.

For some reason, seeing these flocculent matters being smashed, Azrael's heart jumped a few times.

"This is... transporting some kind of genetic material?" Combining Lion's words just now and observing the form of those flocculent matters, Azrael instantly made a judgment.

This was clearly some kind of genetic material. The Tyranid Hive was transporting these genetic materials to produce some kind of organism.

Azrael's joke had actually happened to guess the truth.

"I thought you were joking regardless of the occasion, but it turns out you sensed the purpose of these aliens." Harel turned his head to look at Azrael, his tone carrying some relief, patting Azrael's shoulder with a sense of recognizing a junior.

The hostility in the gazes of the Consecrators toward Azrael also relatively lessened, seemingly feeling ashamed for the threatening gaze they had just cast at Azrael.

"Yes, I saw at a glance that these hateful bugs are transporting these blasphemous, disgusting, ugly, twisted alien distorted genes!" Azrael showed the psychological quality a chapter master should have, saying almost without hesitation.

"... That is my genetic sequence." Lion said to Azrael in a low voice.

"Ah... ah?"

"And my brothers', and even... the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang's and the Primarch-mother's." Lion glanced at the broken flocculent matter on the ground and said.

"Primarchs have a mother?" Azrael blurted out.

The Consecrators behind Lion glared fiercely at Azrael.

But Lion didn't have much expression, just continuing: "Source Blood Stack, the thing that Fulgrim's clone didn't guard. Inside are the complete genetic sequences of me and my brothers, or rather, all Primarchs were born from that genetic sequence."

"The genetic sequence of the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang, the Master of Mankind, combined with the Primarch-mother Erda. The Tyranid swarm stole that genetic sequence and used it to synthesize some kind of organism to carry itself."

Lion's words made the atmosphere in the air sink.

As they went deeper, the obstacles they encountered became fewer and fewer, as if the organisms in this vicinity were all decomposed into biological matter, gathered together to cultivate the organism in the depths of this flesh-and-blood tower.

If it were as Lion said, then the Tyranid organism waiting for them in this flesh-and-blood tower would be...

Everyone's mood suddenly became somewhat depressed.

Besides depression, there was also anger and discomfort. They could not accept that the genetic sequences of their genetic father and the Hua Hua Hua Di Huang were blasphemed, tampered with, and twisted by aliens.

Azrael also sensed the heaviness of the atmosphere. He believed that such a mindset would obviously affect everyone's combat effectiveness.

"My lord, we have all heard your holy words: 'Loyalty needs no reward, loyalty itself is the reward.'"

Azrael looked at Lion and said.

Lion cast a somewhat confused gaze at Azrael.

"And your sword now is named Loyalty, and when you use this sword to kill enemies..."

"... does it count as rewarding the enemy?"

The atmosphere sank for a moment.

Lion revealed a nearly cruel smile, raising the Loyalty sword in his hand slightly.

"I need to reward your loyalty."

Azrael retreated a step silently.

Lion didn't pay attention to Azrael anymore, turning his head to look at Zabriel beside him: "Can you contact that clone?"

Zabriel shook his head slightly.

Lion nodded lightly, seemingly not too surprised by this.

"We will either welcome a flashy new Phoenix."

"Or we will welcome a new traitor, a new viper."

"But for the fate of the galaxy, it is already irrelevant."

Azrael actually sensed a kind of strong confidence from Lion's words.

He didn't quite understand why Lion was so confident.

Lion seemed to sense Azrael's thoughts too, sneering two or three times: ===== CHAPTER 701 =====