Forced to die just after becoming invincible in Warhammer?

Angron hesitated for a moment, frowning, and pondered for a long time before finally shaking his head.

Hui Le sighed helplessly, a look of fatigue on his face, and slowly said, "Forget it, then abolish this abominable slavery system first. Then you can do what you want. After all, this is your planet. According to the unwritten rules of the human empire, even other Primarchs cannot arbitrarily dictate to your planet, unless that person is the Emperor or the Regent."

"Oh," Angron nodded sheepishly, scratching his head. A hint of confusion crossed his face. He then asked, "So I want to preserve the tradition of gladiators, but I also want to eliminate slavery. What should I do?"

As soon as he said that, Angron felt that he had asked a question that he shouldn't have asked. With his ability, he clearly sensed the red emotion surrounding his sister Huile in front of him suddenly surged, which was obvious impatience and a little anger.

Aurora and the others on the side covered their mouths and laughed secretly, but their laughter was so loud that everyone present could hear it.

Huile took a deep breath, forced himself to calm down, and tried to keep his tone calm: "You can modify the rules of the arena so that everyone is eligible to participate. As for the revenue from ticket sales and other related wealth, you can share it with these gladiators or give them corresponding compensation."

After a pause, Hui Le narrowed his eyes slightly, with a hint of disappointment in his eyes, and continued: "And what I told you, in fact, as long as you use your brain a little, you should be able to think of these methods in your mind."

Erlin Er Er Yi Umbrella 0 Eight Locust Yue - Clothes...

Astelan led the Dark Angels of the First Legion and successfully entered the territory of the slave-owning family with almost no effort.

What they saw was a scene of chaos. The slave owners were engaged in a fierce internal struggle for the throne of "the largest slave owner". The chaos was so chaotic that even the city gates were left unattended.

This scene made Astelan a little overwhelmed for a moment. He never expected to encounter such a "cooperative" opponent. He couldn't help but sigh in his heart: I have served in the First Legion for so many years, but I have never seen such a stupid enemy.

However, out of caution and respect for Nukelia's advanced technology.

The dark angels did not disperse, but lurked quietly and headed straight for the most magnificent palace in the city.

When they arrived at the palace, the scene before them was horrifying. Corpses, mostly those of guards, were strewn across the ground, and blood formed dark red puddles on the ground.

In addition, there were some people dressed in gorgeous clothes lying in a pool of blood. Judging from their clothes and accessories, they should be members of the slave-owning family.

Astelan and the others looked around cautiously, scanning every corner. After confirming that there was no sign of life, they acted quickly.

The Dark Angels took the heads of those dressed in gorgeous clothes and "devoured" them in a special way to obtain the memories contained in them.

Through these memories, they learned the whole story. It turned out that the leader of this slave-owning family had been killed by Lord Hui Le.

Without a strong leader, the family instantly fell into chaos as they scrambled for power. Everyone coveted the supreme power, and their desires clouded their minds.

More importantly, they possessed powerful weapons left over from the golden age, which became deadly weapons in this struggle for power.

Both sides used these powerful weapons without mercy, which ultimately resulted in a mutual defeat. Both sides fell in a pool of blood, turning the once glorious family territory into the Shura field with corpses everywhere.

Astelan stood quietly in this palace filled with blood and death, with no trace of joy of victory on his face, only solemnity.

At this moment, he felt mixed emotions. He opened his mouth but didn't know what to say.

"Victory" came so easily, just like a pie falling from the sky. There was no fierce confrontation, no bloody fight. It fell into their hands so easily just because of the opponent's stupidity and internal friction.

The so-called glory seemed cheap and pale to him.

In his mind, this was not a victory that he was truly proud of.

The First Legion has gone through countless hardships and dangers and participated in countless brutal battles. What they pursue is to show fearless courage and outstanding combat skills in the face of powerful enemies and to win glory with strength.

Instead of the "victory" that was picked up for free like now, this goes against their beliefs and pursuits.

He couldn't help but think that if those brave and warlike Space Wolves encountered such a situation, they might be very excited. After all, for them, any spoils and glory are worth cheering.

But the Dark Angels of the First Legion are different. They have their own pride and perseverance, and they value the process and significance of the battle more.

Astelan had a thousand thoughts in his mind, and all kinds of complicated emotions were surging in his heart, but reality did not allow him to indulge in his emotions for too long. In the end, he decided to put aside those chaotic thoughts and set about cleaning up the mess.

He quickly gave the order, and the Dark Angels of the First Legion sprang into action. They expertly and orderly carried the bodies out of the palace and disposed of them properly, each movement radiating professionalism and rigor.

At the same time, the powerful weapons left over from the Golden Age were collected one by one, carefully inspected and properly stored, awaiting further instructions from the Primarch.

Throughout this process, the Dark Angels did not slack off at all. Although they still had some resentment about this effortless "victory", they still adhered to their duties, completed each task with extremely high standards, and always demonstrated the style and quality of the First Legion.

Astelan gathered his thoughts and turned on his communication device. The stern and majestic face of the Lion King Lion soon appeared on the screen. He nodded slightly and began his report with a serious expression, "Master Primarch, we have successfully entered the territory of the slave-owning family. This place has been thrown into chaos by internal power struggles. After the controller was killed by Master Huile, each faction clashed with each other, using powerful weapons left over from the Golden Age to fight for power. Now the territory is littered with corpses. We have cleared the bodies and confiscated those powerful weapons. We await your further instructions. This victory came too easily and is very different from any battle our army has ever experienced."

After finishing the report, Astelan quietly waited for Lion King Ryan's response.

Chapter 260: Arrogance, the Victory of the Clarks' Rebellion

Such absurdities were common in Nukelia.

Whenever a lord passes away, his domain becomes a battlefield for family struggles for power, filled with stupid, vulgar and ugly fights.

All parties resorted to unscrupulous means, completely disregarding family affection and decency, as if they were caught in a crazy farce.

This chaos has not subsided for a long time. Even the elite backbones of the four major legions that participated in the magnificent war to eliminate the alien overlord could not help but remain silent when they saw this scene.

The mysterious and unknown weapons seized by the Dark Angels possess the terrifying power to completely erase people from the timeline. However, these greedy slave-owning families turned such deadly weapons on their own loved ones, starting a bloody internal struggle.

This meaningless dispute escalated, and eventually, all the major families met a tragic end in the internecine slaughter, with almost all of them being wiped out. Only a scene of decay and desolation remained, bearing witness to the greed and madness of human nature.

The White King's Sons and their mortal auxiliary forces were busy clearing the palace. The bodies of the slave-owning families, who had murdered each other, were carried away one by one by the mortal auxiliary forces. Meanwhile, other members of the White King's Sons had already begun planning and managing the city.

Sitting on the throne long coveted by the slave-owning families, Mod sighed with emotion: "Alas, the bad nature of mortals is hard to change. Even if they wield weapons that would intimidate even the Primarch, they will still turn their guns on their own unique blood relatives out of lust for power."

Forle, son of Huile and second only to the Primarch in the 11th Legion, frowned and looked at Moder on the throne, rebuking him: "You have increasingly lost the noble character of a son of the White King. You are arrogant and conceited."

Mord spread his hands nonchalantly and responded, "Don't say that, For. My glorious military exploits have earned me recognition from both Primarchs, so a little arrogance is understandable. Moreover, I have always been cautious on the battlefield. Even now, our wise and beautiful Gene Mother has never disapproved of my ways, has she?"

"You're probably still wild, boy. With such arrogance, you'd better find a way out. Otherwise, if you anger the Mother of Genes one day, you'll be kicked out and treated like a stray dog. That would be embarrassing."

Fore really didn't want to waste any more words with Mord. Compared to the other members of the White King's Sons, Mord was really out of tune, not to mention his close ties with the Space Wolves.

Mod was deeply influenced by both his thoughts and behavior. His bravery and fearlessness on the battlefield even made other battle brothers tease him as the Wolf King's adopted son.

Leman Russ also made no secret of his admiration for Moder and publicly expressed his high hopes for him.

With the clatter of his iron boots, Forle strode out of the slave owner's palace filled with the smell of decay and blood. His footsteps echoed in the empty corridor and gradually faded away.

Mod curled his lips and quietly watched the veteran of the Legion leave. He didn't take Forle's warnings and accusations to heart at all. In his opinion, Forle was just sticking to the old rules and didn't know how to adapt.

You know, Mode shines brightly in the Mother of Genes' class, and ranks among the top in the three courses of psychic power, biotechnology, and mechanics.

He could easily master those obscure and difficult knowledge that others could not grasp even after racking their brains.

What's more, even the awe-inspiring Leman Russ was particularly kind to him.

He even promised that if he asked, the illustrious Primarch would be willing to personally teach him the knowledge of Fenris's runes. Thinking of this, Mod's chest unconsciously straightened, his eyes filled with complacency and pride.

……

"Why? As the leader of a rebel army, how can I handle so many government affairs?" Angron sat in the palace of Deshiya City, sighing to the sky, his voice full of despair and helplessness.

As the Lord of Red Sand, he could never have imagined before his rebellion that he would live such a miserable life. Compared to this, the past when he was used as a gladiator by his brothers and sisters seemed so much easier.

Outside the magnificent palace, Angron's rebel brothers gathered around the gladiatorial arena, built according to the new reform concept. Most of them were immersed in it, watching the fierce competition inside with their eyes fixed on it.

In the arena, the gladiators on both sides fought extremely brutally. Their legs were smashed into pieces by violence, blood splattered everywhere, and some even had their limbs broken. The scene was horrifying.

However, those insect-like nano-high-tech devices at the edge of the field are quietly waiting.

Sure enough, as soon as the competition was over, they acted quickly and in the blink of an eye, reattached intact bodies to the two seriously injured gladiators. Their skin was as smooth as before, without even a trace of scar.

Hui Le used his psychic powers to snap a photo. The White King's attendants and knights intertwined in the frame. "Look, that idiot stuck in the wall! He's undoubtedly the dumbest slave owner on my brothers' home planet. Everyone, come and take a look. Armor, reveal!"

As she spoke, the datapad in Huile's hand flickered, revealing a message from the Hundred Kings' servants. She read softly, "This 2.0 Immortal Bionic System Armor was once claimed to offer a game-like experience even in the face of death, but it was ultimately eliminated. The reason for this was that the enemy mastered the time weapon, and later, during the war between the two races, both sides exploited the rules of time. The armor's weakness is that it struggles to maintain its energy supply. The internal user's energy supply doesn't match the external, false energy supply, resulting in the armor's inability to maintain normal operation."

Hui Le looked up at the slave owner who was stuck in the wall and trapped in the armor, and thought: Now I just have to wait for this big slave owner to starve to death in the armor.

……

In the past, Lycaeus was invaded by some foreign races, and many underground shelters were built on this land. A crisscrossing system of secret tunnels was also born. They are like the veins of the earth, hiding the secrets of this planet.

As time passed, the Primarch Clarks grew up strong in this vicissitudes of life land.

This time, the core force of the secret uprising was the slave miners, who constituted the main body of the rebel army led by Clarks.

Corax, a man of great strategy, meticulously organized the oppressed slaves into Stormtroopers, personally training them rigorously. Furthermore, he led them in a silent psychological warfare against the guards, cleverly orchestrating strikes and riots to gradually wear down their morale.

Finally, everything was ready and the time was ripe. Under the command of Clarks, the slave rebels drove mining machinery and quickly occupied several streets like a surging wave.

The sabotage team was also busy. They launched precise attacks and successfully cut off underground communications and supply pipelines.

In this way, after a series of closely coordinated actions, they successfully took over this underground passage that was tangled and maze-like.

Now, with the underground tunnel as a solid stronghold, they finally have the qualifications to compete with those high-ranking slave owners, the powerful exploiters.

Clarks stood in the dim underground passage, gathered with the core members of the rebel army in front of a simple map.

After taking the underground passage, the next step was clear - to capture the obelisk owned by the overseers.

This obelisk is not only a symbol of power for the supervisors, but also a key hub for controlling the operation of the entire mine.

Once occupied, they could cut off the slave owners' command center and plunge them into chaos.

Clarks looked back at the slave rebels behind him, who were covered in scars but full of fighting spirit. He clenched his fists and said in a low but powerful voice, "Everyone, the obelisk is the next checkpoint for us to break the shackles. As long as we occupy it and hold it, we will win!"

The thick night fell like a huge black curtain, tightly enveloping Clarks and his rebel army. Everyone held their breath, disappearing into the shadows of the night, as if merging with the darkness.

Clark Yue/Yi Luling 2 Emu Longba Si crouched down, hiding behind a broken wall, his eyes fixed on the obelisk in the distance.

The tower was brightly lit, and the figures of the supervisors swayed from time to time in the windows. The dazzling light formed a sharp contrast with the surrounding darkness, and it was more like a provocation.

The Primarch clenched his fists slightly. At this moment, leading the legion, every second of waiting was extremely painful, but also extremely crucial.

The rebels crouched or lay low, clutching their improvised weapons, their eyes gleaming with tension and anticipation. They knew this would be a fateful raid, a decisive blow, and success or failure depended on it. They were all waiting for Clarks's signal to act, for the perfect opportunity to quietly infiltrate the obelisk.

Just as Clarks was about to lose control of his inner rage, a clamor erupted from behind the obelisk. It was a group of drunken guards, staggering towards him, arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder. Their shouting and laughter shattered the stillness of the night, and Clarks saw his opportunity.

He quickly turned around and used gestures to convey his instructions to the rebels. They nodded in unison, and like a pack of nimble cheetahs, they silently approached the obelisk. Using the chaos and noise created by the drunks, the rebels successfully reached the obelisk's side entrance.

However, there were two awake guards standing guard. Clarks frowned, thought for a moment, picked up a stone from the ground, and threw it into the distance. The crisp sound attracted the attention of the two guards, who immediately raised their weapons and cautiously walked towards the source of the sound.

Seizing this opportunity, Clarks led several rebels in a lightning-fast dash for the side entrance. Before the guards could react, blades were already at their necks. Thus, without firing a single shot, the rebels successfully infiltrated the obelisk.

As soon as you enter, a pungent smell of blood hits you in the face. The walls are hung with various torture instruments, and there are bloodstains on the ground. It is obvious that this is where the overseers torture the slaves.

Clarks suppressed his inner anger, signaled everyone to remain silent, and continued to move deeper into the tower. They walked through a long corridor and came to a spacious hall. Inside the hall, the overseers were sitting around a huge table, discussing how to suppress the uprising.

Clarks took a deep breath and whispered, "Now, charge!" In an instant, the rebels poured into the hall like a tide and started a fierce fight with the supervisors.

The overseers panicked, but quickly reacted and took up arms to resist. For a moment, shouts and screams mixed together, and the entire hall fell into chaos.

Clarks wielded his long sword like a shadow's darling, moving unimpeded and knocking down several overseers in the blink of an eye. However, the enemy was outnumbered and well-armed, and the rebels gradually became trapped in a difficult battle. Just as the situation was at a stalemate, a sudden commotion broke out from behind the rebels.

A slave miner had accidentally triggered the alarm. The tower's searchlight instantly swept across the surroundings, and the piercing sirens pierced the night sky. The overseers' morale surged, and their attack intensified. Clarks, anxious, fought hard to resist, searching for a way out. Otherwise, even if he won, his rebels would suffer heavy losses.

Suddenly, he caught sight of a row of huge pipes in the corner of the hall. These were the energy pipes that carried the obelisk. Clarks had an idea and shouted, "Concentrate your firepower! Attack the pipes!" The rebels quickly understood his intention and opened fire, aiming their weapons at the pipes.

Under the intense firepower, cracks gradually appeared on the pipe's outer shell, and the energy inside began to leak out with a hissing sound. The supervisors realized that something was wrong and wanted to stop it, but it was too late.

With a loud bang, the pipe exploded. The powerful impact knocked the supervisors to the ground and thick smoke filled the hall.

Taking advantage of the chaos, Clarks led the rebels to rush to the core area of ​​the tower, where the key equipment that controlled the entire mining area was stored. As long as it was destroyed, the slave owners would have no power to fight back.

But the defense in the core area was tighter, and several heavy machine guns were firing crazily, blocking their way.

Clarks hid behind cover, watching his companions fall one after another, his heart pounding. Suddenly, he spotted a ventilation duct at the top of the hall. He signaled to the rebel beside him, and the two of them worked in perfect harmony, using tables and debris as cover as they moved toward the bottom of the duct.

Clarks took a leap, jumped, grabbed the edge of the ventilation duct, and climbed in with all his might.

The pipe was cramped and hot, and he struggled forward, crawling towards the core area. Finally, after reaching the designated location, he kicked open the vent cover and jumped down.

Upon landing, Clarks quickly dispatched two unsuspecting guards. He then charged the heavy machine gun position, engaging the enemy in close combat. Meanwhile, the insurgents, taking advantage of the enemy's distraction, launched a charge, successfully breaking through the defenses.

Together, they destroyed the control equipment, plunging the entire obelisk into darkness and silencing the alarms. Upon learning the core had been breached, the slavers, unwilling to fight, began to flee. Clarks, leading the rebels, pursued them and captured them all.

As the last overseer was subdued, the entire mine erupted in excitement, and the slaves poured into the streets, cheering.

Clarks stood on the top of the obelisk, overlooking the land that had regained its freedom.

Chapter 261: War Dog, my dad is better than your dad.

During the founding of Terra, the members of the XIIth Legion of War Dogs were mostly drawn from the warlike tribes and city-states recovered by the Emperor.

At this time, Horus received a message from the Regent.

The Regent Lord demanded that his Warhound Legions return to their rightful masters, and Horus learned that his twelfth-ranked Primarch brother had been found on Nuceria.

Horus thought: He should return the command of the XII Legion's fleet and the Astartes warriors to his brother. After all, he was not a true Warmaster, he was merely favored by the Emperor. Even if he had the title of Warmaster, he should not give orders to his brothers without authorization.

Unless he is the emperor or the regent.

Horus knew it was vital that this message be delivered properly.

This not only affected the morale of the War Dogs, but also his image in everyone's eyes, especially in the eyes of the newly returned brother. So, he decided to personally inform the War Dogs of this news.

Horus then ordered his lieutenants to regroup the Warhound Legion soldiers that he had torn into pieces.

Soon, the lieutenants began to carry out the orders, running around to convey instructions and gathering the scattered warriors into the hall to prepare for Horus's announcement.

In a flash, the war dogs had gathered in the hall.

Looking at the neat and solemn formation before him, Horus couldn't help but sigh in his heart. They were indeed the renowned 12th Legion. Just by looking at their rapid assembly efficiency and strict and orderly formations, one could tell that their military quality was astonishingly high.