Tubaker lowered his head and thought for a moment.
"What was erased?"
"The Venerable said it was because of the use of alien technology."
"Just that's it?"
"Don't you think the anti-Some space power of Soshiyang is very strange?"
"After you say that, indeed...even if you are untouchable, it should not be like that."
A cold smile appeared on Garmozejie's face.
"Believe me, there are many secrets they can dig."
"In that case, why don't we just get this to the Empire? Isn't their inquisition very meddling?"
“It’s useless.”
Garmozejie shook his head.
"Do you still remember the black-armored men who suddenly appeared?"
"Well, those people? What's wrong?"
"The Venerable said that many years ago, he accidentally discovered that there seemed to be a shadow organization or organization in the empire. It has been manipulating the history process behind the scenes, and the most obvious method is to influence the Inquisition and the Assassin's Court... The Venerable was also attacked while investigating that organization, and only then did he save his life after entering the Fearless Mecha, and began to write questions and answer questions from the army."
"There is also this matter..."
Toubek frowned.
"I have never known anything about it for so many years-"
"They are hidden very, very deep, and it is estimated that only the Primarchs and a few people may know a little about it."
"So you mean...they will cover up the Eleventh Legion?"
"Why are Soshiyan here and they are here? Hum, it can't be a coincidence, right? So I bet there will be no response to leaking these things to the Empire."
"It seems that the water here is so deep."
Tubaker sighed lightly.
"Friend, are you really going to wade into this muddy water?"
Garmozejie shook his head.
"Since I knew I was a descendant of the Second Legion, it was no longer possible for me to decide whether to wade into muddy waters. I have been in this huge chess game for a long time. All I can do is to turn myself from a chess piece into a chess player."
"Chess pieces, chess players..."
As he repeatedly muttered these two words, Tubaker couldn't help but clench his hand armor.
"Yes, yes, you must not be making chess pieces..."
Then he looked at Garmozejie.
"Friend, what are you going to do next?"
"Change the gate, join the Black Legion, and find a way to retrieve the Snow Lotus Blade from the White Temple... Although the Legion's flagship has sunk, the Primrose still leaves some legacy on the edge of the Milky Way. We will also retrieve those things and strengthen our power."
As he said that, he turned around and looked out the viewing window, and the huge hull of the soul of Revenge was slowly floating by.
"One day, the gods will bow to us!"
Tubaker smiled slightly.
"Abdon will meet his brother-in-law war blacksmith Baben Farke in a spiritual tomb. This man is Hongsuo's old superior. Do you want to go and see?"
Garmozejie turned around and nodded.
"certainly."
Soon, the fleet arrived at a small world drifting in the sub-space. Such a small world is very common in the etheric realm. Most of them are fragments of the world that floated out of the eyes of fear when the spiritual race fell in the past. During the first birth of the new god, it was broken, knocked on its bones and sucked marrow, and the life it carried was swept away, sinking deep into the clutches of the sub-space forever.
From a distance, this small world looked like a black ball dotted with silver veins, with a ghostly pale glimmer on its surface.
It once owned marine forests and land, but it had evaporated many years ago, leaving only the bone-like earth suddenly open to the void. Broken arches and damaged spiritual bone structure dome wreckage can be seen occasionally. These alien materials do not emit common psychic sounds that are enough to stimulate perception. Even the demons left it. Every trace of nutrients it contains was sucked dry, everything was cold and deserted, and everything was silent.
Its cloudless sky is a gorgeous and crazy color, revealing the main body of the subspace, like a string of jewelry hanging in the eternal darkness.
The unnatural strange wind blew across the empty plains, spinning at the outer edge of the crystal rock tower, and the weird light shone in the hidden corners, reflected on the mirror-smooth canyon beneath it.
Those winds were the only sounds in the whole world, overlapping dying whispers repeated for centuries.
But the eternal silence was broken, and ancient dust was raised, brushing through the cracked rock slabs.
Dozens of warships covered the ether and stopped in the thick smoke column.
More than a dozen gunboats landed on the ground, their flanks were shining black and gold, all decorated with the pattern of the Eye of Horus.
The gunboat scattered in all directions of the plain, setting a circular cordon around the center, and the area was surrounded by rows of towering stalagmites.
Where they landed, elite Terminators of the Dutch Black Legion appeared one after another, all wearing ritual cloaks and heavy power spears.
As the cordon closed, a storm bird landed in the center.
At the steam-surrounded landing point, the enchanted warriors in armor stepped forward with heavy steps - the Messenger of Despair, these most terrifying fighters, advanced with a pride visible to the naked eye, which was a confident pace accustomed to dominance, like arrogant warlords circling on the land they ruled.
These sane enchant warriors always like to feature their armor. Their bodies are covered with ancient totems, bones with dried blood are hung on their wrists with iron chains, making a collision sound, and iron spikes are surrounded by shiny eyes on their shoulder armor. The layers of peeling ceramics are painted with blasphemy runes symbolizing power.
Once in place, the Despair messengers began to wait quietly, in a rare tribute gesture.
After that, bystanders like Garmozej were eligible to land, but had to stand outside the stone circle - this was a formal diplomatic occasion, so Abaddon allowed his allies to watch, and even Kranon was present.
Not much, more landers landed.
They wore black gun-copper armor, made from even older craftsmanship, with exposed cables and exposed laminated armor plates.
Garmozej knew the stories of these marks very well - they were added by the first technical priests who tested the Power Armor, and the wearer kept these marks to remind everyone who saw them that this was made for war, not for boasting and display, as cruel and practical as the people inside.
The Fourth Legion, the Iron Warrior, walked out of the Stormbird's landing ramp with a clanging sound, and then took his seat clumsily, standing opposite each other on the bone-white earth.
The two forces maintained a distance of 30 meters and remained motionless.
But this silence lasted only ten seconds and was then broken.