Forced to die just after becoming invincible in Warhammer?

But in just a moment, he finished writing and gently handed the file bag to Guilliman with a hint of pride on his face.

Guilliman took the file bag, with a hint of expectation and scrutiny in his eyes, and looked down at the contents on it.

As he read, his brows gradually furrowed, his eyes revealing an unconcealable surprise, and he fell silent. The answer on the page was almost identical to what he had imagined, as if he had written it himself.

Guilliman was secretly surprised and subconsciously rejected the possibility that Curze had plagiarized.

After all, these answers were all obtained after careful consideration, and they were always hidden deep in his mind and he never mentioned them to others.

He was surprised that Cozee could write down these answers so quickly and accurately. He looked up and his eyes fell on Cozee, his eyes full of confusion and inquiry. Countless questions surged in his mind: How did Cozee do it? Why was his way of thinking so similar to his own?

Guilliman was still immersed in shock and confusion, his eyes fixed on the file bag in his hand, trying to find some clues from the handwriting and content.

Curze stood aside, pretending to be nonchalant, but secretly pleased with himself. He knew that Guilliman would never guess that these seemingly ingenious answers were actually his unique ability to predict the future and what he had seen Guilliman do.

Curze tilted his head slightly, a sly glint in his eyes. He recalled seeing Guilliman in that mysterious prophetic vision, his brow furrowed in deep thought as he faced the same administrative problem. Then, Guilliman wrote down his solutions one by one, each step as if he had rehearsed them countless times.

And he just reproduced these scenes of the future, easily.

Chapter 268: The Blood God evaluates his Primarch, and then runs out of money.

Within the eight realms of the High Heaven, Khorne sat high on a throne made of skulls, looking down coldly at the demons below who were killing wantonly.

Their atrocities, in Khorne's eyes, were nothing but soulless barbarism, which filled him with displeasure.

The Blood God's eyes, as blazing as flames, peered through the subspace and gazed straight into the real universe.

On the other side of the world, the figures of the Primarchs came into his sight, each of them exuding a unique charm and was so beautiful.

His eyes fell on Zhuang Sen of the First Legion. Every kill he made was straightforward and pure, without any disguise or embellishment.

On the battlefield, his command ability is extraordinary, his tactical layout is exquisite, and he leads the legion to tear through the enemy's defenses like a sharp blade.

But he really didn't like the emotionless look on Zhuangsen's face when he was killing. In the Blood God's view, if killing couldn't bring a sense of exhilaration and pleasure, then it would lose its true meaning.

But considering Jonson's amazing command ability and strong fighting strength, Khorne had an idea and decided to give him some favor.

Among the vast array of Primarchs, Aurora, Lord of the Second Legion, stood out. Her command abilities were only average among the other Primarchs, but once engaged on the battlefield, her combat prowess was immense.

Every time she swung her sword to kill an enemy, she would feel strong emotional fluctuations in her heart, as if there was a wonderful emotional bond between her and killing.

It must be mentioned that Aurora's appearance was exceptional, and she was one of the most beautiful women among the Primarchs. Her silver hair flowed like a waterfall, and her eyes were like stars in the cold night, cold and captivating.

Thinking back on the Randan War is simply infuriating.

Skarbrand was so useless. I had hoped he could bring Aurora back in the war, but he was defeated in just three moves by Aurora and fled back in disgrace, missing out on the perfect opportunity to bring this beauty into my fold.

Khorne's eyes, as red as flowing blood, slowly moved towards Fulgrim of the Third Legion.

As soon as he touched the Primarch, an indescribable admiration surged in the Blood God's heart.

Fulgrim, from his unrivaled beauty to the extraordinary martial prowess he displayed on the battlefield, commanded attention. His graceful posture and fierce swordplay in battle, each swing of his sword imbued with unparalleled power and beauty, his every gesture radiating a deadly allure.

The Blood God thought to himself that although the universe was vast and there might be more outstanding beings, it was difficult to give up a Primarch as outstanding as Fulgrim.

How could Khorne, who has an endless thirst for rage and blood, not want to bring it under his command and use this power for his own benefit?

After thinking for a moment, Khorne's low and oppressive voice echoed in the warp: "Since it is difficult to decide, let's all draw and see who is the power that truly belongs to me." After that, strange energy fluctuations surged in the warp and descended upon Fulgrim.

The Blood God's gaze then fell on the Lord of the Fourth Legion. He saw that this Primarch's body was covered in mechanical structures, and the cold metallic luster gleamed on the battlefield, clearly a product of mechanical craftsmanship.

However, in the eyes of Khorne, who advocates the primitive and violent aesthetics, such an image is not really beautiful. The sophisticated and complex mechanical parts lack the shocking power that strikes the soul compared to those that exude passion and power.

Looking at his killing performance on the battlefield, although the Lord of the Fourth Legion has strong combat power, the killing process lacks that kind of wild killing.

His attacks were precise and efficient, but like mechanical movements programmed according to a program, without any outburst of emotion. Every kill failed to stir up any waves in Khorne's heart, leaving the Blood God feeling unsatisfied.

However, considering the strength and influence he demonstrated in the war, Khorne decided to make some gesture.

The Blood God snorted softly, separating a bit of power from the Warp, and projected it towards the Lord of the Fourth Legion with the Blood God's will and majesty. Although this power was not overwhelming, it was enough to make the Primarch feel the Blood God's attention that could not be ignored.

Khorne's gaze, as if tangible, quickly locked onto Jaghatai Khan of the Fifth Legion. Wherever the Khan went, a storm of speed swept through him, his charge across the battlefield like lightning, a sight to behold.

He brandished the sharp blade in his hand, and his swordsmanship was superb. Every time he struck out with the sword, it seemed to carry a sharp gust of wind, capable of tearing through the enemy's defenses in an instant.

Such extreme speed and powerful swordsmanship filled Khorne's eyes with greed, and he shouted in his heart: I want this too!

Before the Blood God could fully recover from his admiration for Chagatai Khan, his attention was drawn to the leader of the Sixth Legion.

His descendants exuded a wild aura like a wolf spiral. They were fearless in battle, like wild beasts from ancient times, rampaging on the battlefield with a ruthlessness that would not give up until they achieved their goal.

Every charge was accompanied by an earth-shaking roar that terrified the enemy.

This wildness and fighting enthusiasm also made Khorne nod secretly and murmur softly: This is not bad either.

The Blood God's gaze then turned to Rogal Dorn of the Seventh Legion. Rogal Dorn exuded a reassuring and calm aura. He was absolutely loyal to his ideals and goals, a loyalty that was pure and blazing, like a flame that would never be extinguished.

When commanding battles, he was extremely strategic, arranging his troops like a precise chess game, and was always able to manipulate the enemy at will; when fighting on the battlefield, his combat skills reached the pinnacle, and each attack was so powerful that it seemed as if it could split mountains and rocks.

Khorne was filled with desire for his outstanding abilities, and he cried out in his heart that he must recruit him under his command.

Then, Khorne's gaze swept over the Eighth Legion.

In comparison, the Blood God didn't care much about this legion, but he changed his mind and thought that if their Primarch was willing to surrender voluntarily, he would welcome it with his broad "mind".

Khorne fixed his gaze on the Ninth Legion—the Blood Angels. Instantly, the tyranny in the Blood God's eyes gave way to a hint of wonder, and he murmured, "Oh, what a beautiful, perfect Legion!" The Blood Angels' postures on the battlefield were swift and sacred. Every swing of their swords, every charge, and their beautiful thirst for blood seemed to carry a sense of otherworldly beauty.

Khorne secretly made up his mind that next time there was a suitable opportunity, he would let Kabanha go in person to invite him and make sure to bring this power under his control.

That gaze, a burning sea of ​​blood, eagerly descended upon Ferrus, Primarch of the Tenth Legion. Ferrus exuded a primal and untamed aura, his violent aesthetics in battle fully on display. Every punch, every slash, reduced his enemies to dust in an instant. His command of battles was bold yet precise, always crushing enemy defenses with thunderous force, his combat prowess unparalleled.

This Primarch, who was so powerful and full of savage power, immediately struck Khorne's heart, causing the Blood God to exclaim: I like this too!

His gaze turned and fell on the Primarch of the 11th Legion, and a hint of disgust flashed in Khorne's eyes.

In the Blood God's eyes, this Primarch, besides having a pretty face, was only good at wielding psychic powers. But when he realized that his Chaos brothers and sisters were all vying for the throne, a desire to not be outdone suddenly surged within him.

"Humph, since everyone is vying for it, I can't be left behind. Even if I don't like it, I have to grab it."

Khorne secretly planned in his heart that once he got her into his possession, he would turn her into the bloodthirsty maiden of the Blood God, allowing her seemingly useless abilities to blossom with value that suited his taste on the bloody battlefield.

The Twelfth Primarch was a being that even Khorne couldn't help but notice. Raging power surged through him, like a volcano poised to erupt at any moment, its fury capable of igniting an entire battlefield.

Once he entered the battlefield, his swordsmanship and any weapon skills reached the pinnacle. The sharp blade in his hand was like a nimble venomous snake or a violent hurricane, and every swing brought about a bloody storm.

He was a gladiator born for rebellion. He was fearless and challenged all constraints and authority. This pure fighting will and powerful strength made Khorne admire him very much.

And when Khorne's gaze fell on the Thirteenth Primarch, Guilliman, the Blood God's eyes were instantly filled with hatred and disgust.

In Khorne's eyes, the order and rationality of war that Guilliman represented was like a pool of foul-smelling sewage, polluting the purity and violence that the universe should have. Everything Guilliman promoted ran counter to the violence and bloodshed that Khorne advocated.

If possible, Khorne really wanted to take action himself and completely destroy Guilliman from this universe to purify the battlefield that was "defiled" by him.

Khorne glanced at the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Primarchs with disdain, his eyes full of disdain. In his opinion, these two Primarchs had long been smothered by the influence of their "brothers".

Their style of doing things and display of power are no longer pure, and run counter to the violence and bloodiness advocated by the Blood God, so naturally they cannot be regarded as such by Khorne.

Khorne frowned slightly when his eyes fell on the sixteenth Primarch, Horus.

Horus's excessive thoughts were seen as a sign of cowardice in the eyes of the Blood God.

On the battlefield, strength and killing should be used to speak, rather than wasting one's bloodiness in power struggles and calculations. Such a Primarch made Khorne reserved.

The seventeenth Primarch, Lorgar, filled Khorne with disgust.

He is weak in character, bullies the weak and fears the strong, is servile in front of the strong and arrogant to the weak, which is completely opposite to the fearless fighting spirit that Khorne likes. The Blood God feels annoyed even when looking at him.

However, when he saw the eighteenth Primarch Vorkan, a different light flashed in Khorne's eyes.

Vulkan's kindness, beauty, bravery, and integrity were such fascinating qualities to the Blood God. A sinister urge welled up within him, a desire to see such a primarch, so full of light, corrupted and eroded by his own power, falling into a dark and bloody abyss. That scene would surely be truly "exciting."

Khorne was unable to tell the true strength of the Nineteenth Primarch for the time being, so he decided to observe for the time being and wait for the opportunity to explore his true strength and potential.

The 20th Primarch, Khorne, was completely displeased. In his view, the battlefield was a contest of strength and courage, and one should rely on strategy and combat to chop off the enemy's head in an upright manner, rather than hiding in the shadows and playing spy games. Such stealthy behavior was simply a blasphemy against the glory of battle.

Khorne's gaze wandered among the many Primarchs, and with every glance, the desire in his heart grew stronger.

The Bone Throne could no longer restrain him. The blood flames around him surged violently, and he wished he could stand up immediately, replace the Emperor, become the father of the Primarchs, and personally lead the magnificent Great Crusade.

In his imagination, the Great Crusade would no longer be about order and unity, but an endless bloody feast. The Blood God would drown every Primarch in blood, allowing them to unleash their most primal power through slaughter and destruction.

Every severed head and every piece of land soaked in blood will become a medal of His glory.

In Khorne's fantasy, the universe will become a huge battlefield, and the Primarchs will lead their respective legions in the baptism of blood and fire, and only obey the orders of him, the Blood God.

Khorne was immersed in that ambitious fantasy. The more he thought about it, the more excited he felt. The desire for all the Primarchs burned in his heart like a raging fire, almost bursting through his chest.

The God of War and Strategy was thinking about how to recruit these powerful Primarchs and make them his sharp blades to wreak havoc on the universe.

But when his gaze suddenly fell back to the offerings in his hand, his expression instantly darkened. It turned out that while he had been concentrating on examining the Primarchs, lost in his fantasy, he had subconsciously pulled all the offerings out.

And now, those Primarchs whom He longed for and loved so much, had wanted to use these sacrifices to invade the real universe and win over other Primarchs, but now they had no sacrifices to give.

In the warp, Khorne's wrath erupted instantly, and the Blood God let out a deafening roar, shaking the entire warp. The demons trembled in fear, fearing that this wrath would fall upon them.

The rage within Khorne burned like roiling magma. His will, like an invisible yet oppressive hurricane, relentlessly spurred the demons under his command. The Blood God's tyrannical roar echoed through the Warp: "I demand sacrifices! More skulls, more blood!"

Those great demons were filled with bitterness, but they were helpless in the face of the Blood God's wrath.

The solid curtain of the real universe is like an insurmountable chasm lying before our eyes.

Today, its power has grown even stronger, tightly blocking the demons' progress.

Without the call from believers in the real universe, even if they possess great power, they can only be trapped in the subspace and cannot descend into the real world to kill indiscriminately and obtain the skulls and blood required by the Blood God.

Under the wrath of Khorne, the great demons dared not even breathe and could only silently endure the pressure of the Blood God.

They huddled in the corner of the warp, their hearts filled with helplessness and fear, praying for a chance to satisfy the Blood God's demands, otherwise this terrible rage would never subside.

Chapter 269 Under the original body, on the side of the road, the devil has no pain

In the region of planets surrounding Nukerialia, the Primarchs fought side by side in the name of brotherhood, assisting Angron in clearing the nearby planets of treason and xenos threats. Recently, their encounters with xenos have become increasingly frequent.

Aurora's voice on the communication channel was filled with confusion and caution. "I don't know what's going on lately, but I've been encountering more and more red aliens, especially those who shout the name of the Blood God."

On the other side, Zhuang Sen was engaged in a fierce killing, his words intermittent in the communication: "Yeah, me too. They keep shouting about joining them, brothers and so on..." He could only barely say a few words in the short intervals when he repelled the enemy.

Then, Zhuang Sen's voice came again, revealing anxiety: "Hang up first. There are too many aliens here. Half of the people on the planet have been sacrificed."

After that, the communication stopped abruptly.

Aurora, clad in shining armor, stood out like a dazzling star on the battlefield. She wielded her sword with abandon, each swing carrying a chilling aura.

The Sun Guards were like loyal shadows, always standing guard beside her, scanning the surroundings vigilantly, not missing any potential threats.

The Dawnbringers held a bolter in one hand, the muzzle of the bolter emitting a cold metallic luster, as if ready to spit out deadly firepower at any time; in the other hand was a chainsaw sword, the teeth of which rotated at high speed, making a terrifying buzzing sound, ready to tear the enemy into pieces at any time.

……

You were born on Terra in the second millennium, your father a general with distinguished military achievements.

The moment you are born, the gears of fate begin to turn slowly.

From the age of 1 to 5, you are just learning to speak and are full of ignorance about the world. Your babbling voices reveal your infinite possibilities for the future.

From the age of 6 to 18, you devoted yourself to studying military tactics, and kept company with military books day and night.

Your heart is full of longing, hoping to be like your father, inherit his title, wear armor, command the troops on the battlefield, and become a general admired by everyone.

At the age of 19, you stepped into the battlefield. Your father did not give you any privileges. He made you start as a soldier and temper yourself in the most brutal environment.

This training lasted for three years. From a small soldier who charged into battle to a grassroots officer who knew how to coordinate and command, every step you took was solid and powerful.

At the age of 23, with the experience accumulated on the battlefield and outstanding command ability, you were promoted to deputy general and began to show your skills on a bigger stage.

A year later, at the age of 24, you successfully took over the general's command and became the youngest general at that time. You were in the limelight and attracted everyone's attention.

At the age of 25, the cruelty of war is fully displayed in you.

After winning a battle, you ordered the massacre of civilians in the city and the killing of enemy soldiers. The smell of blood permeated every inch of land.

From then on, every time you conquer a city, that bloody scene will be staged again, and the wailing and blood of the people will become the background color of your war career.

At the age of 28, the trajectory of fate changed abruptly.

You inexplicably hear the whispers of the Blood God on the battlefield, and that bloody and bewitching voice continues to erode your mind.

Driven by desire and madness, you completed the sacrificial ritual and successfully ascended to demon status.

But before you could gain a foothold in this new power, a white lightning fell from the sky and hit you instantly. The huge force wrapped you up and sent you back to the mysterious subspace again.

Now you are called back to the real universe.

……

This bloody demon, which was upgraded from a human, exudes a strange and bloody aura. Its pair of tattered but still powerful wings flapped vigorously, bringing up gusts of bloody wind.

It seemed to be completely dominated by madness and the desire to kill, and it completely ignored the whistling bombs that kept hitting its body. The bombs exploded on its thick and rough flesh, but could not stop it at all.