After the review ceremony, the planetary governor delivered an inspiring speech titled "Never Surrender". He called on the people to quickly get over their sorrow and devote themselves to the cause of serving the emperor with higher morale.
His speech cannot be said to be bad, but Soshyan only felt that the governor was used to being aloof and his words were too broad and empty.
When Soshyan spoke, he did not mention his identity as Chapter Master, nor his identity as an Astartes. He only told everyone that he was a graduate of Somus Academy and a Nessen the son of.
He shared their grief, shared their grief, and was grateful to the people of Nessen IV for their more than ten years of service to the Astral Knights.
Soshyan didn't say much, but he promised one thing.
Nathan No. 4 will definitely have special tax-free rights!
After that, he also solemnly announced to people the establishment of the Suffering Alliance and the addition of new members. When the four chapter leaders raised their swords at the same time and swore the oath of brotherhood, their words were completely drowned in the cheers of the crowd. .
At the end of the ceremony, there was a carnival. Hundreds of millions of alcoholic drinks were taken out, and people sang and danced to cheer for the victory.
It was already afternoon.
At the western gate of the square, guards stationed here are still checking people entering the country.
Until now, there is still a steady flow of people. This celebration will last for three days. Jugglers and vendors from the slums will flock to the night market, and farmers will pull trucks full of food to unload here.
Of course, there will be no shortage of thieves, swindlers, and people with other agendas—
"name?"
The officer in high-level uniform asked loudly.
This man has a distinguished status, and he knows it.
"Sorge."
A man who looked about thirty years old answered lazily. He was wearing a smelly black fur coat and nestled against the back door of a servitor truck.
"What's going on?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is everyone crazy for fun? What did our imperial hero say?"
"you do not know?"
The officer looked at the man suspiciously and repeatedly checked his ID.
"I just came off the track and didn't hear anything."
"We are going to get special tax exemption here."
the officer replied proudly.
"Oh? Big news."
"That's right."
"anything else?"
"An alliance has been established, and there are four battle groups! Four! Our place is now a safer place than Holy Terra!"
"Big news."
Sorge nodded and repeated, feeling a pang of frustration.
The situation is a bit complicated.
"There are others behind you."
Suddenly, the officer reminded him.
Sorge shrugged, nodded, and motioned for the driver to drive.
The man rode the bumpy servitor truck through one of the countless checkpoints in the west and entered the perimeter of the square.
This was his goal, maybe his damn destiny, but the situation didn't look good. This dirty area was full of simple houses, makeshift shops and various stalls, and it took several kilometers to get there. Go to the real square.
Sorge jumped out of the bumpy van and started walking along the busy road, avoiding caravans and food trucks.
Suddenly, he had a terrible feeling, which he used to call his first sense, because, according to his beloved mother, he was born without any sense at all.
"Hey!"
A voice behind him shouted:
"Hey you! The man in the fur coat!"
Sorge cursed, no doubt his fake ID had been discovered.
He looked back and saw a small team of guards approaching him from the checkpoint. They were speeding up and pushing aside pedestrians who were blocking the way.
Most of the locals knew what they were doing and got out of the way immediately, because these guards were not only menacing, but also equipped with large-caliber guns and quite vicious swords.
"Stop!"
one of them yelled, but Sorge didn't comply, so the officer began shouting at pedestrians.
"Get out of the way! Don't stop us from shooting!"
shot? It's really nice and heart-warming.
The timing was worse than he expected, the situation was worse than he expected, and his expectations were definitely not that high.
It was time for him to change his identity, to use the skills he had honed over his long years of hunting and being hunted, and the powers his master had given him.
The man smiled, twisted his body, turned sharply to the left, and rushed along the street into a maze of narrow alleys - this is the most crowded area in the West End.
He didn't hit anyone or knock over anything. Pedestrians either ducked in front of him or stood still and let him pass by.
Then he made two more turns, a left and then a right, and followed the damp alleyway between two wooden fences.
The alleys were lined with flags, and he could smell food and pipes.
But those guards were also in excellent physical condition and followed closely behind him. Although they were wearing cumbersome armor, they were still walking fast and pursued him relentlessly.
The vague gray shadows of several giant food warehouses in front gradually appeared, and Sorge considered whether he could hide there.
But the guards were very efficient. The second team had already appeared on the other side of the street two hundred meters away. They planned to encircle him from the other end of the street and surround him with the previous pursuers.
He realized he needed to take action.
He was disappointed, but also a little happy, to have to consider killing so early.
He had been in the warp for too long, was cold and hungry, and was ripe for taking a few lives.
Sorge was in a bad mood, and the guards who chased him gave him a chance to vent his emotions.
He brought four weapons with him, which he carried here in a living flesh bag, ensuring that the metal objects could perfectly avoid any scanning and inspection equipment.
The fleshy sac was the product of some kind of witchcraft that clung to his backside - something his wizard master was very good at.
Among the four weapons, there is a pair of finely crafted pistols with long barrels and thick handles. They are made with top-notch craftsmanship and can fire a covering of needles.
What they lack in range and accuracy, they more than make up for in rate of fire and penetration.
He took the two guns out of the flesh bag and put them inside his fur coat.
The third weapon is a small chain sword, which is similar in length to a short sword. Its history is said to date back to the long war years before the Horus Heresy. It is unknown how its owner obtained it.
The fourth weapon was a grenade, but not any grenade known to man, strictly speaking it came from some xenos craft, and was currently in the right pocket of his fur coat, mixed with other items.
Sorge hid in the shadows under the eaves of a dilapidated shack, leaning against a partition wall and waiting quietly.
Six people surrounded them from behind, and another six people rushed from the front. They were all guards, armed with weapons, and equipped with long swords with sophisticated craftsmanship for close combat.
They were well trained, armed, and determined to take him down.
Sorge hurriedly put his hands into his coat, pulled out his two guns, and pointed the muzzles at the dark clouded sky.
Then he flicked a button with his thumb, activating the near-silent gravity accelerators and setting them into motion.
The handle of the gun gradually grew warm.
The pursuit of footsteps suddenly stopped. Sorge listened carefully. Amidst the gurgling sound of the nearby man-made canal and the noise of the distant streets, he captured some brief and subtle sounds: the team's internal communication, they were gradually spreading out to start the search.
Come and get me, he thought to himself.
Two men suddenly appeared to his left and rounded the corner of the shack, weapons at the ready.
Sorge smiled slightly, took steps, and fired with both guns in his hands.
He pressed the trigger extremely gently, and the gravity accelerator projected the needle at an unusually high speed - this system was extremely efficient and would release several high-penetrating bullets within a second or two.
Sorge was very skilled. The gun in his left hand spit out four needles and penetrated the breastplate of one guard, while the gun in his right hand did the same thing to another guard.
The next second, they fell on their backs silently, wounds that were difficult to see with the naked eye loomed between their chests, and then a large amount of blood gushed out.
"Um?"
Sorge suddenly turned around and saw a third guard appearing behind him on the other side of the shack.
So he turned around, straightened his arm and fired with his left hand, sending two needles into the man's face, splitting his brain in his skull.
The man fell to his knees, then lay on his back, his helmet spurting a stream of blood as it hit the ground.
But such actions still aroused alertness around them.
