Forced to die just after becoming invincible in Warhammer?

Seeing the Dreadnought in danger, a trace of worry flashed across his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by trust in his sister's strength.

"Attention all ships, take advantage of the chaos in the alien fleet and increase firepower! Concentrate on attacking their flagship and make sure to disrupt their command system!" Perturabo issued a new order.

After receiving the order, the Iron Blood fleet poured its firepower even more fiercely towards the alien fleet.

Under the restraint of the Dreadnoughts and the concentrated attack of the fleet, the Alien Pirate Alliance gradually showed signs of defeat, and the defense force around the flagship was also constantly weakening.

Lareo seized the opportunity and once again activated the Dreadnought's new weapon. A powerful beam of concentrated psychic and mechanical energy shot out from the mech's main cannon, like a ray of destructive light, blasting straight towards the alien flagship.

Amidst the dazzling light and earth-shattering explosions, the alien flagship was directly hit, and the hull instantly shattered into pieces, turning into a mass of debris in the universe - the dead body of Yisilenker2scar.

With the destruction of the flagship, the morale of the Alien Pirate Alliance completely collapsed, and the remaining warships began to flee in all directions.

Upon seeing this, Perturabo ordered the fleet to pursue the victory and make sure to capture all the alien pirates in one fell swoop, leaving them no chance to make a comeback.

Under the pursuit of the Iron Blood Fleet, the fleeing Alien Pirate Alliance warships were hit by artillery fire one after another, turning into cold wreckage in the universe.

Perturabo stood in the command room, directing the pursuit in an orderly manner, ensuring that every ship that escaped the net would be found.

"Report to the Lord, most of the alien warships have been destroyed, and the remaining few are accelerating to escape. It is expected that they will soon be out of our pursuit range." Trident reported the battle situation to Perturabo.

Perturabo frowned slightly, thought for a moment, and then said, "Send out a few highly maneuverable warships to pursue them. Make sure to completely eliminate them. The other warships adjust their formation and prepare to return."

"Yes!" Trident quickly conveyed the order, and several small high-speed warships chased the fleeing alien warship like arrows.

At this time, Lario controlled the Dreadnought to return to the Iron Blood.

When the huge figure of the mecha appeared on the deck, the surrounding Astartes warriors cast admiring glances at it.

Lario walked out of the control room, her face filled with excitement and satisfaction after the battle.

Perturabo rushed over from the command room and met Larion on the deck. He looked at his sister with praise in his eyes: "Rio, your performance on the battlefield today was excellent. The power of the Dreadnought was far beyond our expectations."

Lareo smiled and replied, "This is all thanks to our joint efforts, Lab. However, after this actual combat, I also found that there are still some areas for improvement in the Dreadnought."

Perturabo nodded. "Well, actual combat is the best way to test it. We'll study it carefully when we return to base. This victory not only dampens the arrogance of the alien pirates, but also accumulates valuable experience for our future operations."

The two walked towards the bridge while talking.

Perturabo looked calm, Lario's eyes were bright, and their discussion was full of prospects for the future.

On the way, whenever they met Iron Warriors or crew members, they all quickly and neatly gathered on both sides of the passage, lowered their heads, and were extremely respectful.

Perturabo, as the genetic father of the Iron Warriors, his majesty and strength are awe-inspiring; and Lario, with his outstanding talents in psychic power and mechanics, has also won the respect of everyone.

"When I was flying that Dreadnought, many Iron Warriors mistook me for you."

Lario said with a slightly teasing smile, his eyebrows curved.

She looked at the current scene and recalled the awe that those warriors showed when they first saw the Dreadnought, as if they were facing Perturabo himself. She found it quite interesting.

Perturabo's expression was calm, but a softness flashed in his eyes. He responded seriously, "If you wish, the Iron Lord's throne will always be open to you."

Lario was slightly startled, his smile gradually faded, and a hint of emotion appeared in his eyes.

She could feel that Perturabo's words were not just a joke or a compliment, but came from the heart.

But she quickly smiled again and said, "I'm not trying to steal your place, Labo. I'm more enjoying the process of delving into psychic energy and machinery, and creating more powerful weapons like the Dreadnought. However, your words warm my heart."

Perturabo patted Lareo's shoulder gently. "Whatever path you choose, I will fully support you."

The Lord of Steel paused again, then added, "But if you ever change your mind, the throne will be waiting for you."

Chapter 306: Perturabo's Private and Secret Carvings

Deep within the Iron Blood, there is a room that belongs exclusively to the Lord of Steel, Perturabo.

This place is like his personal private territory, filled with a cold and mysterious atmosphere.

Neither ordinary Astartes warriors nor other Primarchs have ever set foot in this area, as if it were separated by an invisible barrier.

In the room, a table carved from exquisite wood is particularly eye-catching.

On the table, a lifelike lion statue stands quietly. The smooth lines and realistic expression all demonstrate the sculptor's superb skills.

This lion was carefully carved by Perturabo long ago as a gift to Jonson.

However, it has been left here and has not been sent out.

Perturabo had many concerns in his mind.

He always felt that this gift was not perfect enough, as if if he spent more time polishing it, it would become more impeccable.

At the same time, he was also vaguely afraid that Zhuang Sen would be disgusted with this gift and worried that his carefully prepared gift would not be recognized.

Deep down, he even secretly worried that if he gave this gift, it would be seen as a sign of weakness, just like steel that appears hard but is actually fragile.

All sorts of complicated emotions intertwined together, preventing this gift from ever embarking on the journey it was supposed to go.

In the other corner of the room, there is a divination device.

This was commissioned by Magnus to Perturabo, and with his outstanding talent in mechanical craftsmanship, it was not difficult for him to complete this work.

But strangely, Magnus never came to ask for it, and Perturabo himself did not take the initiative to send the divination device over.

It seemed as if there was a subtle tacit understanding, or some inexplicable reason, that made this object stay quietly in the room.

At this moment, the Lord of Steel Perturabo was concentrating in his room.

He held a carving knife in his hand and was concentrating on carving in front of a wooden stake that was 1.6 meters high.

The room was very quiet, with only the slight "rustling" sound made by the carving knife and the wooden stake touching, as if telling the unspeakable thoughts and emotions deep in his heart.

The carving knife in Perturabo's hand was like a nimble dancer, leaping lightly and moving freely on the wooden stake.

Sawdust drifted down like snowflakes. As time passed, the once ordinary wooden pile gradually took on a clear outline.

Looking closely, one can vaguely see the image of a beautiful woman in a gorgeous dress. To ordinary people, her figure is unusually plump, and every line seems to contain the rhythm of life.

Perturabo's eyes were filled with a concentration bordering on obsession. Beads of sweat crept onto his forehead, yet he remained oblivious, completely absorbed in his woodcarving.

The force of each blow and the angle of each cut were all the result of his careful consideration.

It seems that this wood sculpture, which is gradually taking shape, carries the emotions and grand visions deep in his heart that are difficult to express in words.

After an unknown amount of time, Perturabo finally stopped what he was doing, let out a long sigh, and began to carefully examine the work that had taken shape in front of him.

He frowned slightly, a hint of dissatisfaction in his expression. Obviously, he still felt that some details had not met his ideal standard of perfection.

He reached out and gently stroked the slightly rough surface of the wood carving, lost in thought, racking his brains to think about how to further improve it.

Just because he was determined to carve the most perfect statue in the world, he needed to think more carefully and would not allow any flaws.

Perturabo slowly closed his eyes, and his mind flashed through every detail of his time with Lario like a picture scroll.

He clearly recalled the delicate and warm touch when his hand touched hers, which seemed to still linger on his fingertips.

With his keen visual observation and accurate valuation, the detailed data about Lario flooded into his mind like a tide.

The Lord of Steel clearly remembered her perfect body proportions, every curve seemed carefully carved.

Her appearance was even more unforgettable to him. Her delicate facial features were like a masterpiece created by a master artist, and when combined together, they formed a unique beauty.

Her bright eyes, like deep stars, reveal wisdom and agility; her straight nose adds a bit of firmness to her face; her slightly upturned mouth corners always carry a kind and charming smile.

All of this came together to form Lareo's unique charm, leaving a deep impression on him.

Perturabo was immersed in his memories of Lareo, and every detail became clearer and clearer, as if it was engraved deep in his soul.

The Primarch thought of the slight upward curve of Lareo's lips when he smiled. That smile was like the warm spring sun, which could dispel the occasional haze in his heart.

And her smart eyes when she speaks, sometimes sparkling with wisdom, sometimes full of longing and expectation for new ideas and new plans.

Then he continued to picture her appearance in his mind, her long, smooth hair, sometimes tied up, sometimes loose, swaying gently with her movements, exuding a unique elegance.

Her demeanor and gestures exuded the inherent majesty of an original body, yet retained the gentleness and delicacy unique to women.

When he opened his eyes again, his gaze fell on the unfinished wood carving in front of him.

Perturabo took a deep breath and touched the carving knife lightly to the wood carving again.

At this moment, every scratch on the wood carving in his eyes was like a path to perfection, and the image of Lareo became clearer and clearer in his mind, becoming a beacon guiding his creation.

The Primarch focused on carving the folds of the dress, and the chisel moved carefully, trying to capture the graceful texture of Lareo's gorgeous clothes as they fluttered in the wind.

He carefully considered the depth and direction of each wrinkle, striving to present the most natural and realistic effect.

The lines of the dress gradually became smoother under his carving knife, as if it was really swaying gently in the breeze.

Then he turned his attention to the wood carving's face, squinting his eyes and carefully tracing Lareo's features from memory.

From the curve of those bright eyes, to the slightly upturned nose, to the lips that are always smiling, every detail shows his hard work.

The charm in his eyes is portrayed, which is a unique light that is both firm and gentle, as if it can see through his innermost thoughts.

As time went by, the face of the wood carving gradually became clearer, and it became more and more similar to the Lareo in his memory.

But Perturabo was still not satisfied. He kept adjusting the details, not letting go of even the smallest flaws.

He gently stroked the wood carving's cheek with a carving knife, trying to make its surface smoother and reveal the delicate texture of Lareo's skin.

As he sculpted the curves of her figure, he recalled feeling the contours of her body as his palms pressed against hers.

The carving knife moved along the impression in his mind, perfectly presenting her plump yet elegant body proportions on the wood carving.

Every ups and downs, every line, demonstrates his ultimate pursuit of details.

When he stopped the carving knife again, the wood carving in front of him was no longer the rough prototype it had been at the beginning.

It is like a beauty walking out of a dream. Although it has not been fully carved, it already exudes an irresistible charm, as if Lario's soul is gradually being infused into it.

Perturabo gazed at the wood carving, a complex mix of emotions welling up in his heart: a mixture of satisfaction at the work gradually taking shape and resentment at not having achieved absolute perfection.

But he can still change.

Perturabo was so immersed in the carving of the wood that he forgot the passage of time.

The Iron Blood continued to sail steadily in the universe, and the daily hustle and bustle on the ship seemed to be isolated from the small space where he was.

He began to focus on depicting the wood carving's hair. In his memory, Lareo's hair was smooth and lustrous, each strand seemed to have a life of its own.

The chisel in Perturabo's hand became soft and delicate, carefully outlining the direction of the imagined hair.

First, carve out the general outline of the hair. The long hair falls like a waterfall, some of it naturally falls on the shoulders, and some of it winds down the back.

He then worked on the details of each strand, which he was familiar with because he had touched Lareo's hair.

The carving knife gently slid across the wood, causing wood chips to fall off. Fine lines gradually appeared on the wood carving, simulating the texture and layering of hair.

It depicts the changes in light and shade of hair caused by the refraction of light, as if every strand of hair is emitting a soft luster.

He was particularly attentive when dealing with the few strands of hair that playfully fell beside his cheeks, trying to show that lively and natural feeling, as if the breeze would blow by in the next second and these strands of hair would flutter gently.

After completing the carving of the hair, Perturabo turned his attention to the hands of the wooden sculpture.

He still remembers Lareo's hands, slender and strong, with long fingers and distinct joints, so soft and boneless.

During the creative process, emphasis was placed on expressing the balance between the softness and strength of the hands, depicting the curvature of the fingers, as if they were about to make an elegant movement.

He also carefully carved the shape of the nails, making them round and shiny, without missing any details.

He even carefully depicted the faintly visible blue veins on the back of the hands, adding more realism to the pair of wooden carved hands.

At this point, the entire wooden sculpture had basically taken shape, and Lareo's image came to life before him. However, Perturabo always felt that something was missing.

The Lord of Steel took a few steps back and examined the wood carving from different angles, his brow furrowed in thought.

In his mind, this wood sculpture is not just a work of art, but also a concrete embodiment of his feelings for Lareo, and it must reach flawless perfection.

Finally, his gaze fixed on the eyes of the wood carving. He realized that although the shape of the eyes had been carved very realistically, the charm contained in them had not yet fully demonstrated Lareo's unique temperament.

So, Perturabo picked up the carving knife again, and this time, with a deeper understanding and perception of Lareo, he gently made fine adjustments to the eyes of the wood carving.

His chisel was like a magic wand, each subtle stroke bringing the woodcarving's eyes to life. Gradually, the wisdom, tenderness, and determination revealed in those eyes perfectly matched Perturabo's memory of Larion, as if the woodcarving had come alive, gazing back at him with familiar eyes.

That was a look of admiration.

Perturabo breathed a sigh of relief, a rare smile of satisfaction on his face.

Perturabo stood there quietly, immersed in the appreciation of the wood carving, as if he could feel Lario's familiar breath from this work that condensed his hard work, and enjoy the "adoring gaze" that seemed to come from the wood carving.

However, this tranquility was soon broken when his eyes fell on a letter from his adopted sister.

This letter was from Olympia, from a woman who claimed to be his sister.

He has been busy with various affairs recently and has no time to open the letter.

But after just a little thought, he could roughly guess the content of the letter.