Lin Fan looked closely and saw that the five statues deep within the battlefield were Khorne, with nothing but a sturdy shell; Nurgle, incapable of flourishing; the Dark Emperor, illusory as a shadow; Mork, who looked somewhat lonely; and the Everchanging Phantom closely linked to Tzeentch.
Beneath these statues stood countless daemons loyal to them. Bloodletters, having lost their valor and thirst for blood, hunched through marshes of foul blood. Their blades could no longer ignite flames reeking of choking sulfur. Nurgle's offspring were even more wretched. Their bloated flesh had been reduced to shriveled skin tightly wrapped around bone, and the weapons in their hands were truly withered branches and fallen leaves. Absolute, profound despair spilled from their pitch-black eye sockets.
Lin Fan could not clearly see the Dark Emperor's subordinates. Like the opposite of the God-Emperor, black flames burned beneath his throne. Countless bones fell into them without making a sound. There were no dying wails, no crackling of burning bones, as though the Dark Emperor's very existence had slain all that clamor within silence.
Mork and the Orks appeared to be in the best condition, yet Lin Fan could not see the optimism beneath the Orks' brutal behavior. Like Raven Guard who had not seen their father for a long time and had fallen into deep depression, they silently stood watch in a scrapyard, warily surveying their surroundings with vacant eyes.
Finally, Lin Fan looked at Tzeentch and discovered that this Lord of Change was not as stable as she appeared. Forcibly integrating the power of the other gods had made her even more chaotic. If Slaanesh devouring Khorne's blood was like being so stuffed that he could not digest it, then Tzeentch had become a balloon filled with mixed and discordant powers. Even if Lin Fan