Lion ran through the forest, the bushes and thorns automatically parting to open a path for him. Before long, he spotted Lin Fan with the daemon sword strapped to his back.
The unfamiliar armor put Lion on guard. What shocked him even more was that he could not sense the slightest presence beneath it.
He could smell the scent of prey. Perturabo carried the mingled odor of gunpowder and iron filings, while the man before him smelled like nothing more than an ordinary mortal.
How could a mortal withstand the corruption of a daemon sword?
Lion furrowed his brow, bracing his shield before him and hiding his longsword behind it. With a stomp, he shot toward Lin Fan like a falling meteor.
Why were his movements so slow? Why was his reaction so sluggish? Lion even suspected that Lin Fan's stillness was some kind of trick, yet his body instinctively slammed the shield into him.
The shield carried Lion's immense strength. It could forcibly knock over even a heavy Doomblade tank. Unfortunately, when it struck Lin Fan, a twisted human-shaped dent appeared on its supposedly indestructible surface.
"You really are a big cat. Felines just love sneak attacks from behind." Lin Fan turned and kicked Lion directly in the ankle.
Lion lost his balance and pitched downward. In a flash, he swung his sword back toward Lin Fan's head, intending to subdue him with a more powerful strike.
The blade shattered, and Lin Fan punched Lion in the chest. As a Primarch, he had never experienced the feeling of being short of breath with a tight chest.
No, that was not true. There had been one time. When he discovered that Perturabo had tricked him out of his General Cannon, then used it to blast open Terra's walls, he had