Traveling through the Warhammer world, but I didn’t cry.

This attack was very fast in Alvin's eyes, almost impossible to catch in Dimit's eyes, and in Dorn's eyes it was so slow that it made people sleepy.

"Let's go, kid. We have nothing to do here. Perturabo will take care of his problems." Dorn turned and left, with Helbrecht and other champion swordsmen following closely behind him.

Click! boom!

The halberd and ax were broken by Perturabo, and the demon inside would leave a permanent disc herniation. Drao was kicked out by Perturabo, who hit the carriage hard.

Perturabo knelt down on one knee next to the dying Drau, held him up with one hand, "Are you still conscious?"

Delau opened his eyes with difficulty, grinning as he vomited blood, "That's what it feels like...this hard kick."

Perturabo shook his head, "I have not kicked you. None of the descendants I have kicked can stand in front of me intact."

"You kicked my captain."

"Because of what?"

"Because when he was mixing the rapid concrete, he stirred it slowly, which reduced the intensity by 0.003%. He was looking at you and was a little distracted. You came up and kicked him, and my captain flew up and knocked us all to the ground. ”

"What then?"

"We were not fearless and he died."

"I...I'm sorry, that won't happen now."

Delau, who had been calm just now, suddenly became excited. He forced his body to try to get closer to Perturabo, "Don't say sorry! There is no apology in the creed of steel!" Then Delau gasped weakly and lay down weakly. In Perturabo's hand, only the sound of intermittent breathing came.

Perturabo was silent for a long time, and then he heard Drau's voice again.

"Have I lived up to your expectations, Father?"

"You did a good job." Perturabo lowered his voice, which seemed particularly weak on the battlefield with constant artillery fire, but it was so loud in Delau's ears.

As if he felt that such words could not reassure Drao, Perturabo pointed to his cheek, "You left a wound on me with your halberd and axe, which is enough to prove you."

"Really?" Delau blinked, his pupils began to dilate, and then he muttered a few words and called several people's names, some of which Perturabo knew, and some of which were unfamiliar to Perturabo.

Drau died at the hands of Perturabo. His death caused a great sense of sadness to arise in Perturabo's heart, which even affected other Iron Warriors on the battlefield.

Perturabo was heartbroken, and a teardrop fell to the ground along his cheek. He knew that Drao's disobedience was by no means an exception. The Iron Warriors had languished in Perturabo's shadow for too long. Now he finally understood what Lin Fan said to him: It's not that the Iron Warriors are not worthy of Perturabo, but that Perturabo is not worthy of the Iron Warriors.

These words can also be applied to Angron. When the Lord of the Red Sands chose to oppose the Emperor, there were many warriors loyal to the Emperor among his descendants. They tried their best to attack Angron, one after another, and Angron tore them apart without mercy.

In the end, the loyalists who attacked Angron were slaughtered, leaving only a few dying guys who could still speak. Angron was not angry at these heirs who slightly injured him. Instead, he calmly and gently picked up his heirs and said with a smile, "You did a good job."

Perturabo had despised Angron's hypocrisy before, but now he felt the same way.

He put Delao's body down and waited quietly for a while. Soon he noticed that a demon was pulling Delao's soul away from the body.

Perturabo knew that as a recruit with ordinary qualifications, there must be something unusual about Delao's ability to grow up to be a war blacksmith. Secretly, Delao sold his soul to the devil to gain power.

Wrapping his hands in black stone, adjusting the polarity, Perturabo pulled out a parasite-like demon with a big tug.

"We signed a contract! We signed a contract!"

Perturabo didn't care about the demon's cry, he tore the demon off casually, and then quietly waited for Drao's soul to dissipate. He wanted the Emperor to take Drau back to the Golden Throne, and he remembered that Drau had committed many burnings, killings, and plunders during the more than ten thousand years he had served under him. He felt that it was unfair for others that Delau's soul was included in the throne, and he also felt that Delau's current state had a lot to do with him.

Perturabo thought for a while, but still did not make a request to the Emperor. Drau's soul dissipated and dissolved into unknown corners of subspace, waiting to be discovered by demons.

Perturabo decided that he would retrieve the souls of all the Iron Warriors, even if it took him tens of millions of years to do so.

Perturabo stood up, and ten Lamenter Terminators knelt before him. Perturabo's blood flowed in their bodies, and they all felt the pain of the Primarch.

"Are you willing to help my incompetent father?"

"Wherever you go, we go."

Perturabo helped the Lamenters Terminators up one by one, and then asked them to assemble the wide-area sound array equipment.

Alvin and Dimitri, who were on the side, had long been dumbfounded and couldn't think straight. When the hum of the construction of the Lamenter Terminator came, Alvin asked with trembling lips, "You... .Are you a Primarch? That giant...is also a Primarch?"

Perturabo glanced at Alvin and did not answer him. He just took the communicator from the hand of the Lamenter Terminator, and then sent a message to the entire Cadia and the void.

"This is Perturabo, Primarch of the Iron Warriors of the Fourth Legion, fourth son of the Emperor. I have returned to the Imperium, and I am here to offer my condolences to all those who participated in the Thirteenth Black Crusade and those who did not. The Iron Warriors of the Three Black Crusades send out a request, asking you to put aside your past hatred and anger and join me on the Imperial front. I know this is a crazy and irrational suggestion, but I will stand Here, standing on the land of Cadia, waiting for you, I will answer all your questions, and I will also give you a chance to choose."

The sound swept across the entire battlefield, and before the Empire and Chaos sides could react, another voice sounded immediately.

"This is Rogal Dorn, the Primarch of the Imperial Fists, Black Templars, and Crimson Fist. Because I have not seen and verified the purity of the gene seeds of its sub-groups, so I use A carefully worded message to you."