Come Quick! There's a Shameful Mutant Here!

Zhou Yun sized up the hazy figure calling himself "Sanguinius."

It was a figure with dove-like white wings, at least four meters tall, glowing all over and radiating Warp power.

Severe height abnormality, scales, feathers, or animal fur growing over the body, luminescent body surface, two additional limbs, beastlike features, causing localized Warp anomalies.

Noticing Zhou Yun's gaze, the winged figure in the white light could not help laughing.

"You're judging me by those standards?"

Oh, and the need to question the degree of mutation. Three moderate mutations, two severe mutations, and two extreme mutations.

Total score: 129.

Purifiers, come quickly! There's a blasphemous, shameful mutant here! Zhou Yun grumbled inwardly.

"Why don't you use those standards to judge the one on the Throne?"

The winged figure in the white light shook his head and said,

"By the Departmento Munitorum's standards, my father and I would both count as extreme mutants, with scores of at least fifty."

"Oh, aside from a few outliers like Guilliman, not many of my Primarch brothers would escape either."

Hearing the winged figure's joke, Zhou Yun smiled and nodded in agreement.

"By the Departmento Munitorum's standards, the Emperor and quite a few Primarchs would all have to stand against the nearest wall, put their hands behind their backs, and shout, 'I'm a shameful mutant! I'm a shameful mutant!' while waiting for the Purifiers to efficiently burn them."

Hearing Zhou Yun's words, the winged figure in the white light chuckled softly. "What do you think would happen if I said that to an Inquisitor or an Ecclesiarchy priest?"

"I'd probably be put through Phosphorus Exorcism." Zhou Yun shrugged.

He glanced toward the Corpse Guild.

After Monger and Malkit entered the guild, a faintly rotten stench seemed to rise within it, making the place look cold and terrifying.

"Are you going in?" the winged figure in the white light asked, his wings trembling slightly.

Zhou Yun shook his head instead and reached toward the Fourth-Dimensional Pocket on his stomach.

Monger and Malkit walked through the corridors of the Corpse Guild.

The dark corridor was thick with moss and rotting fungal colonies, while mushrooms growing from the cracks writhed like chunks of flesh.

Between the moss lay rotting corpses that had never decayed away. Their pale eyes were wide open, their gazes following the two men's steps.

Monger and Malkit chanted a seven-syllable incantation.

The aura around them and the incantation made the corpses regard them as companions.

If anyone else entered this corridor, they would likely be torn apart in an instant and die as nourishment for the moss and fungal colonies.

"Brother, ahead is the office of the Corpse Guild branch director."

Monger stopped before a heavy, lavishly decorated door.

Layer upon layer of skull motifs had been carved into the door, symbolizing humanity's purity.

Yet among those skulls grew layers of rotten, writhing, brightly colored fungal colonies, as if hinting at the corruption of purity.

Malkit nodded slightly and pushed open the door.

Beyond it was a spacious office.

The walls were covered in ornate carvings depicting the Corpse Guild's pallid work of recovering corpses.

One wall had been modified to contain a person-sized ceramite safe, apparently equipped with a low-power stasis field.

Malkit guessed that the ancient ritual implement they sought might be inside the safe.

But he quickly discarded that guess.

For beneath a filthy window stood a broad desk, and in a comfortable office chair lay a woman in a pale confidential gown, her eyes tightly shut.

She wore a long dress as pale as death itself and a corset carved with corpse symbols. Her face was concealed by white gauze hanging from a golden crown.

Yet even through the veil, Malkit could still see her sickly appearance.

Pale and utterly bloodless, she was covered in blotches and pustules of every color. Revolting saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth, while dry bluish veins, seemingly devoid of flowing blood, covered her face like withered vines.

She looked as if she suffered from every illness imaginable.

In her hand, she gripped a rusty, twisted, rotten triangular dagger. Living flesh-like tissue protruded from its decayed metal blade, and that flesh was rotting as it moved.

It was a weapon infused with plague, carrying the power of corruption, forged in that lush garden where only rot and rebirth existed.

This was what Monger and Malkit had come seeking.

Malkit cautiously approached the pale woman with her eyes shut and reached for the triangular blade in her hand—

Screech!!!

The triangular blade sliced through the air, trailing a rotten stench. Malkit hurriedly stepped back, narrowly avoiding being cut by the decayed blade.

"No!!!" A shrill, piercing voice emerged from rotten vocal cords.

The pale woman moved her stiff body and slowly rose from the chair, opening her tightly shut eyes.

Those eyes were like those of the dead—pale and dim—yet a madness surging within them could faintly be sensed.

Malkit hurriedly began chanting the seven-syllable rune.

"No!!!!"

The only response Malkit received was a deranged roar.

At Malkit's side, the cheerful voice of the "angel" rang out.

It told him that the ritual back then had failed because of the governor's bombardment.

The out-of-control Warp power had not only been poured into that triangular blade; part of it had also seeped into her body, plunging her completely into madness and loss of control.

Malkit hurriedly dodged the triangular blade swung by the pale woman. The writhing flesh on its edge made him sense danger.

"Ugh!!!" Malkit spat out a stream of rotten digestive fluid, splashing it over the pale woman.

Her dress was instantly corroded full of holes. White smoke rose from her flesh, exposing stark white bones amid the rotting meat.

Yet the woman's movements were not affected in the slightest. Instead, she grew even more frenzied.

Malkit sensed terrifying malice from the sword in her hand.

Monger sliced open his wrist, spraying toxic, corrosive blood at the pale woman.

Yet the pale woman darted aside and leaped, thrusting the triangular blade in her hand toward Monger's throat.

Her unmatched reaction speed had already surpassed nature. Monger only saw the rotten blade become a sharp insect stinger in midair, shooting toward his throat.

Sizzle!!!!

A scorching beam pierced through the office window, melting the glass and striking one of the pale woman's legs.

A brief, small explosion erupted where the beam landed, and the searing flames instantly melted away nearly half her leg.

"A laser rifle?" Malkit cried out.

Monger reacted even faster. He dodged the blade aimed at his throat, then looked out the window in delighted surprise and shouted, "Leman Russ?!"

But before his joy could finish rising, several more laser beams shot in from afar, striking different parts of the Corpse Guild.

One grazed Monger's cheek and passed by, setting off a small explosion behind him.

Monger was utterly dumbfounded.

"Why the fuck are you shooting at me too?!"