Jaghatai's body trembled slightly. He had always felt that the way Perturabo looked at him was somewhat off. Jaghatai knew that look well, because it was the same look he used when looking at Leman Russ.
Jaghatai had devoted himself to turning the White Scars into noble exemplars for all humanity. Their fortress was filled with poetry and calligraphy rich with profound meaning, yet the public's impression of them remained difficult to change. The White Scars loathed this baseless prejudice, but they could not be bothered to explain themselves to those who knew nothing. That was their loss.
He did not know what Lin Fan had said to Perturabo, but he could indeed see that this sensitive, troublesome brother had become much more mild-tempered.
Perturabo shouted from afar, "The conflict between us should be put aside for now! At the very least, we should find an enclosed place and have a proper talk."
"A talk?" Jaghatai raised a brow. "You mean sitting on chairs made of landmines, surrounded by barbed wire, drinking tea brewed with water extracted from trench mud?"
"You—" Perturabo was enraged again, and Lin Fan hurriedly grabbed him before turning to yell at Jaghatai, "Will you cut it out? Your mouth is really vicious."
Jaghatai curled his lip. As Perturabo powered down the Iron Circle robots, he sheathed his own blade. The two approached and shook hands in reconciliation.
Their hands clenched tightly, metal grinding with a shriek as sparks flew. The strain on both their faces made it obvious that this handshake was anything but friendly.
"Ha ha..." Once they let go, they exchanged a few faint laughs, then hid their clasping hands behind their backs. Their trembling fingers and reddened faces showed just how badly their hands hurt.
Bashar and Hope were still bewildered. They