Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 826 We caught an extremely rare target... I mean, where's the character?!
-
"Good evening, listeners! Our evening prayer music time has ended. Now let's return to our relaxing bedtime serial novel time. Tonight, we will continue our passionate serialization of 'The Mystery of Ravenhill'—a gothic wonder that has kept all Hong Kong wanderers up all night..."

"...Don't forget the special perk: any reader who submits a full subscription receipt to the Dynasty Administration Office this week will receive a free 'Bird's Nest Bookplate'; and if you can guess the 'true identity of the mysterious shadow' before the serialization ends, you'll also receive a complete copy of the novel signed by the author! Don't let your fireplaceside evenings lack excitement—every night at 11:50 PM, remember to turn on your radio and let 'The Mystery of Ravenhill' accompany you before bedtime..."

"Buzz buzz buzz... Oh! Sorry, listeners, we have an urgent news briefing! An urgent news briefing! At approximately 11:07 PM local time, a serious traffic accident occurred in Central Park, Wanderport. The security team has been dispatched to the scene to conduct evacuation and cordon operations. According to our latest information, the lake area of ​​Central Park will be closed until after noon tomorrow. Residents who need to travel or work should take note... Please detour..."

A hand reached out and turned off the special communication receiver produced by Roaming Harbor.

"It seems that something must have happened if the 'choir' didn't come back."

The tall, dark-haired man spoke succinctly. He wore a simple short robe, and on the few bare arms he could see, there were neural interfaces connecting to his black carapace.

“What do we do then?” his blond companion asked. “Can we be sure it was caused by the ‘chorus’? The part we heard before was perfectly normal, and we also received the last message the ‘chorus’ sent before it was withdrawn.”

"We should move as soon as possible, for safety's sake."

"Hey! It can't be that serious! It might just be an accident! Why don't you say we're scaring ourselves and falling into their trap?! Leaving your house so suddenly in the middle of the night after an accident, wouldn't that make you even more suspicious if someone saw you?!"

Zão Eifelnetti quickly retorted that his voice was thinner and sharper than the others—not for any other reason than that the boy, around ten years old, was going through puberty, and his voice was just that different from the others in the room.

“That makes some sense…” the second person pondered.

“Right!” The boy raised his head, pleased that his opinion had been supported, and looked expectantly at the fourth person in the room to offer their opinion.

“But I will still support Uriel,” the blond sergeant said, “because I trust my company commander.”

"Hey! You big, dumb brute!" the boy jumped up. "How could I possibly think you were smart for even a moment!"

He turned angrily to the fourth person, who was still deep in thought.

What do you think, Dad?

Passanius laughed, while Ventress raised an eyebrow.

"Do you really enjoy giving people nicknames, kid?"

The old man snapped out of his reverie, raising his eyes. One hand rested on the top of his skull cane. His intact eye was surrounded by the wrinkles of age and the marks of deep thought, while the crude electronic prosthetic eye emitted a faint red glow.

“Because you’ve been playing my parents for too long,” the boy muttered. “It just came out of my head.”

“Alright.” The old man nodded. “‘Chorus’ said he had already finished get off work and sent the message back at that time, which is very punctual and consistent with his personal habits. Let’s assume it was sent by him for now. Besides, given ‘Chorus’s’ abilities and knowledge, the possibility of him being discovered within the first twelve hours is indeed not high—”

He raised his hand slightly to stop the Ultramarines who wanted to speak, "—Many of my mortal agents can infiltrate Imperial institutions or a sector capital building, disguise themselves as staff, and work alongside employees for two days without being detected."

“That’s terrible,” Pastanius muttered, it was unclear which side or both he was referring to; while Ventress’s expression showed that he was not very supportive of this approach.

“So,” the old man continued, “I personally believe this was an accident. If the other side had already discovered that the ‘Chorus’s’ identity was questionable or that their words and actions were suspicious, then a more reasonable course of action would have been to follow the ‘Chorus,’ then quietly find our residence through the ‘Chorus,’ surround us, and capture us all, rather than taking such a hasty approach. I don’t think the current de facto rulers of Wandering Harbor are such reckless and brainless people. On the contrary, they are very, very cautious and meticulous, so their chosen strategy is most likely to lean towards following rather than intercepting. If we act rashly now, we are more likely to attract attention.”

"See! I told you so!" The boy crossed his arms triumphantly. The cables behind his psionic amplification headband swayed with his movements.

“But the only problem is…” the old man said slowly, and the boy’s face fell, “…in this eerie place, who could have caused the ‘choir’ to get into a traffic accident on their way back?”

He scanned everyone in the room, "Someone capable of causing a major traffic accident with the speed and reaction of a 'chorus'..."

The two Ultra Warriors, realizing the old man's implication, both turned serious.

“Let us put on our armor first, Pastanius.”

The blond sergeant nodded, and they went into the other side of the suite, where the walls had been renovated and the shielding layer thickened, to begin preparations.

The boy turned to look at the old man, then glanced at the figure hidden in the corner by a tattered cloth.

The humanoid thing is now floating in the air, with many thick chains connecting it from under the rags to stones engraved with special runes to prevent its escape from causing any accidents here.

As if noticing the boy's gaze, the humanoid figure hidden under the rag suddenly developed a mouth-like depression on its head, from which came a chuckling sound—it wasn't the voice of a frail, sick woman, nor was it a human voice; it seemed to possess its own will. That faint laughter, like a reptile winding its way down a tree, pierced through the minds of those present and resonated in their ears…

"Shh." The old man paused with his cane, and the boy felt a surge of spiritual energy, not particularly strong but extremely hard, sweep between them.

The thing stirred restlessly for a while, clearly dissatisfied, but at least it fell silent.

“Can’t we just put it somewhere sturdier?” Zao said, annoyed. “You know it always wants me to open the door for it. And it often says some really scary nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” The old man’s gaze returned to the boy’s face, scanning his subtle expressions. “I told you not to open the door, but instead, try to kick it out. Didn’t you tell me you could do it?”

“I could…” Zao muttered, “It could have been until last night, but it came back before I woke up this morning.”

Why didn't you tell me sooner?

The old man frowned, his scarred and wrinkled face looking even more terrifying. The handsomeness and spirit of his youth were long gone; here stood only a pure villain. Of course, Zao knew the two dim-witted—one a little smart but not much—big guys. He now knew they were Astartes, Space Marines, the Emperor's Angels of Death, but "big guys" still came to mind. They were unaware of the countless, intricate, and mutually restraining categories within the Inquisition, and therefore had no idea whether the person they were working with or serving was walking the line between the Throne's representatives and a dangerous criminal being hunted.

—In fact, based on Zan'o's own feelings, he felt that "Old Man" was probably a vicious fugitive. In the alley where they first met, he used his experience to intimidate the two Astartes who were sneaking in alone, and directly recruited two very useful "partners" for them.

You might ask why a country boy like him could be so certain. It's because he knows that if the judge has the backing of the Inquisition, the funds he can mobilize are far, far greater than the money they currently have to pay. And if you ask why he knows the judge can get money from the public account... that's because the last person he served was also a judge, and Zao enjoyed that benefit—it's that simple.

So why didn't Zao run? Because he already knew that running away might have led to a worse outcome.

However, his thoughts have recently changed. Although he is unfamiliar with the place, the boy has found that it is a thousand times better than his hometown. Children like him can actually survive safely on their own, although he still misses his hometown.

Zao glanced furtively at "Dad" and his "thing" again... They were both psionic users, so the boy's escape plan needed to be carefully considered, especially since they couldn't let them know he was thinking about this...

--------

"How could this place be in such a mess... I mean, how could this happen?"

When Ramizam saw one of the unconscious people on the ground, he was so surprised that he forgot to speak quietly.

Police tape has been put up outside Central Park, and of course, no curious members of the public or those with ulterior motives can see what is happening inside.

The inner area had already deployed a phantom-reflective optical concealment field, and when the first Astartes to arrive to deal with the accident found themselves unable to handle it, they used the alarm to summon the people on the Destiny Steel who could handle it.

Inside the cordon, the area where the accident was being handled had been enclosed by an iron ring, and a squad of Astartes were scattered around to guard the area, led by Lucius, whose head still had a ring of blood on it.

"What happened to you?" Ramizam was startled. "Did you get splashed?"

"It's nothing, sir." The champion swordsman's smile was flawless, and he mumbled something to cover it up by saying, "I just got punched in the eye socket and it grew back."

Perturabo BC, who had walked to a distance, had a gloomy face, as did the young man in a white coat with rolled-up sleeves standing opposite him. The ground around them began to frost over because of the somber atmosphere.

Peturabo BC first activated an anti-eavesdropping field integrated into a black and white amulet.

One of the Pale Kings commented sharply, "Tsk, witchcraft is everywhere!"

"This is science."

“Scientific witchcraft is still witchcraft. Don’t try to confuse the concepts, Peturabo.”

"So you created your own numerology..."

"Numerology is a legitimate science! A prominent field of study! The kind of science whose vitality will continue for 40,000 years."

"...Hesitatingly, indeed, so why did our Doctor not pursue his beloved science in the lab but instead come back to our superstitious and ignorant universe full of witchcraft?"

“Nothing on purpose!” the Pale King emphasized, pushing up his glasses as if he were pushing up some invisible mask. “I just wanted to take a walk before going back, it’s perfectly normal.”

"Then why here?"

Peturabo BC waved his arm at the messy roads, lawns, trees and breakwaters along the lake.

Is this also part of the walk?

Everything within a radius of about 700 meters in front of me seemed to have been turned upside down—it's hard to describe, it felt like the world had been turned upside down. Trees and rocks were dented and collapsed into ruins, and the grass was soaked in the swamps that the lake water had flooded. Some places looked like they had been hit by meteorites, some looked like they had been decaying for thousands of years, and some places had perfectly smooth cuts on the trees and rocks, as well as traces of heating and cooling.

"If it weren't for the thick soil in Central Park and our careful burial of insulation and piping layers, you might have destroyed this place today. This is space, not a planetary surface. Is your walking plan to tear this place down and go back to being a rabbit?"

“A test, Peturabo, a test of mental fortitude,” the Pale King muttered. “And don’t mention the rabbit. It’s too much like witchcraft.”

“My son paid for the rabbit’s boarding fees,” Peturabo BC said bluntly. “You were studying for your degree in Albion before, and now that you’re back, you should meet with yourself and resolve this matter. As soon as possible.”

“Very well,” the Pale King replied. “Also, your security measures are problematic. The fact that something like this is here has ruined my good mood. I think it’s your fault.”

"Actually, according to the surviving bird divination records, it was because the suspect knocked over the sandwich the adults were about to eat, so I think it's understandable that the adults would be angry..."

"Pong!"

Perturabo BC retracted the deformed metal arm that had been blocking the Emperor's Son. "Lucius, if I were you, I wouldn't have come over here to report."

After chasing away the curious captain of the hound squad, the two awkward but clearly knowledgeable brothers stood together and talked for a while. Then, the Pale King left with the promise that "the canteen will give you another serving of the food you want right now."

Peturabo BC walked up to Ramizan, who was curiously touching things.

"What? Is there something wrong with him?"

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, a gleeful grin spreading across his face. “I just touched a living, unarmored Imperial Guard for the first time. Wow, what a rare find! I thought we’d have to storm the palace to capture a few. I never expected to catch one in this backwater! Lucius said he used some kind of ancient camouflage to disguise himself and evade routine surveillance. They’re requesting to use the computing power of the Destiny Steel to compare the source of the female appearance he used before entering the park with previous possible appearances… By the way, who was that just now?”

“Um, uh,” Peturabo BC mumbled. “An old acquaintance I haven’t seen in years, he’s fine, I can guarantee he’ll be alright—should we pack this guy up and head back? There are too many people around here.”

"Yes, yes, come on... come help me..."

(End of this chapter)