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 sorrow and grief, and was grateful to the people of Nessen IV for their contributions to the Astral Knights for more than ten years.
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 joining 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, with hundreds of millions of alcoholic drinks being brought out, and people singing and dancing 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 well.
"Sorge."
A man who looked to be 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?"
"Everyone is crazy about it? What did our imperial hero say?"
"you do not know?"
The officer looked at the man suspiciously and repeatedly checked his ID.
"I just got off the track and didn't hear anything."
"We are going to get special tax exemption rights 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 frustrated at the same time.
The situation is a bit complicated.
"There are others behind you."
Suddenly, the officer reminded him.
Sorge shrugged, nodded, and motioned to the driver to drive.
The man rode the bumpy servitor truck through one of the countless checkpoints in the west and entered the outskirts of the square.
This is his goal, maybe his damn destiny, but the situation doesn't look good. This dirty area is full of simple houses, makeshift shops and various stalls. You need to walk several kilometers to get there.
Go to the real square.
Sorge jumped out of the bumpy truck and began walking along the busy road, avoiding caravans and food trucks.
Suddenly, he had a bad feeling, which he used to call his first sense, because according to his beloved mother, he was born without any sense.
"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 team of guards approaching him from the checkpoint. They were speeding up and pushing aside pedestrians blocking the road.
Most of the locals recognized this 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 shouted, but Sorge didn't obey, so the officer began shouting at passers-by.
"Get out of the way! Don't stop us from shooting!"
Shoot? 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 to change his identity, and he needed to start using the skills he had honed over his long years of hunting and being hunted, and the power 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.
After that, he turned two more turns, once to the left and then to the right, and walked along the damp alley 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 opposite side of the street two hundred meters away. They planned to encircle him from the other end of the street and surround him together with the previous pursuers.
He realized he needed to take action.
He was disappointed to have to consider killing so early, but also a little happy at the same time.
He had been in the subspace for too long, was cold and hungry, and was just right to take 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 these 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 back—his wizard master was very good at it.
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.
This chapter is not over yet, please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content! They are slightly lacking in range and accuracy, but their rate of fire and penetration more than make up for the shortcomings.
He took the two guns out of the meat 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 is a grenade, but it is not any grenade known to mankind. Strictly speaking, it comes from some kind of alien craft. It is currently installed 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 him from behind, and another six people rushed from the front. They were all guards, armed with weapons and equipped with well-crafted long swords for close combat.
They were well trained and armed, and they were sure to take him down.
Sorge hurriedly put his hands into his coat, pulled out his two guns, and pointed the muzzles at the dark cloud-covered sky.
Then he flipped a button with his thumb, activating the nearly silent gravity accelerators and getting them going.
The handle of the gun gradually became 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 catch me, he thought to himself.
Two men suddenly appeared on his left, turning the corner of the shack, weapons at the ready.
Sorge smiled slightly, stepped forward, 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 silently on their backs, 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 the 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, causing his brain to be split in the skull.
The man fell to his knees first, then lay on his back, his helmet spurting out a stream of blood when it hit the ground.
But such actions still aroused alertness around them.