Lure the Enemy In

Once the plan was set, the core machinery of Earthly Heaven began operating at high speed and in absolute secrecy around this trap.

Zhou Beichen knew full well that details were the key to fooling that old fox Vladimir—especially any possible ability he had to sense Chaos energy. To that end, he mobilized nearly every resource at his disposal.

In a remote gorge far from the main base, a special "selection" was underway. Zhou Beichen personally oversaw it, while Lorgar stood beside him like a cold statue. Below them stood three hundred men selected from the Faithguard Army: utterly loyal death-seekers whose families were all within the controlled territory. They had been told they would undertake an extremely dangerous yet immensely glorious mission—to play "bandits corrupted by Chaos."

"Remember your expressions! Your eyes need to be wild, but not the kind of madness where you've lost your minds. It should be the greed and savagery of men who've been promised power... men desperate to prove themselves and gain more!" An elderly actor "invited" from Ralte's theater troupe rasped as he instructed them. "Your movements need to be exaggerated and expressive! You're not soldiers. You're desperadoes who've received a 'blessing'! Howl! Yes! Just like that!"

The death-seekers wore motley clothing dug out from captured supplies and deliberately aged. Their faces were smeared with mud and dark-red pigment as they did their best to mimic a crazed state. Even their combat drills differed entirely from Faithguard Army battle formations, placing greater emphasis on individual prowess and chaotic charges.

Elsewhere, inside a temporary tent with excellent ventilation, several craftsmen Lavoisier had recruited gathered around a simple chemical workbench. They had once been responsible for making sacred icons and ritual props for the old Covenant Church. The workbench was led by a skinny man named Heris, formerly an apothecary in a small settlement, who had been specially recruited for his deep understanding of plant and mineral properties.

"These materials... the proportions need adjusting. They need to produce dense yellow-green smoke when burned, but the temperature can't be too high, or it'll hurt the actors." Heris muttered to himself as he carefully mixed several ground powders and added a certain viscous tree sap. "And this... extract from fluorescent moss, mixed with some ground scale powder... yes, paint it onto the model. Under light from a particular angle, it'll reflect an oily sheen like keratinous growths..."

They were making visual props for "Chaos mutants." Leather, stuffing, and carefully formulated paint were used to create seemingly pulsating tumors and twisted bone spurs. Some crucial parts, such as "waving mutant tentacles," had thin but tough metal wire frames inside, secretly controlled by the death-seekers hiding within. Every material had been personally inspected by Lorgar to ensure that it carried no real Chaos energy and was nothing but visual deception.

The preparation of poisoned arrows and blasphemous daggers was even more important. The arrowheads were deliberately left insufficiently sharp, ensuring they could not penetrate Lorgar's inhumanly tough skin. However, the shafts were coated with a powerful paralytic toxin carefully formulated by Heris, along with an alkaloid that caused intense local muscle spasms to simulate pain.

"The dosage has been rigorously calculated," Heris assured Zhou Beichen and Lorgar. Holding a small testing knife, he lightly drew its tip—dipped in a little dark-green slime—across a piece of raw meat. The meat immediately convulsed violently and curled up, its surface even taking on an unnatural bluish-purple hue. "It'll create the illusion of tremendous pain and paralysis, but with Lord Son of God's constitution, he'll metabolize most of it within two hours. There won't be any lasting damage."

During the test, Lorgar volunteered to experience it himself. When the low-dose dagger lightly sliced across the skin of his arm, even with a Primarch's willpower, his brow instantly furrowed. The muscles of his arm stiffened and trembled beyond his control, while a frightening bluish-purple discoloration rapidly spread across it.

"Strong enough." Lorgar shook his arm, feeling the burning numbness and spasms, and said in a deep voice, "Even if Vladimir watches from far away through a spyglass, he won't spot any flaws."

"This stuff isn't the same kind of drug they used on Angron, is it?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

The blasphemous dagger, meanwhile, was a true work of craftsmanship. It had been deliberately aged, with twisted, profane symbols etched into the blade. Heris and the others designed it, while Lorgar ensured it only looked evil and contained no actual meaning or power. Its hilt was wrapped in dark-red strips of cloth that looked as though they had been soaked in blood. Its only special feature was its hollow interior, which contained a small custom-made blood packet filled with livestock blood, pigments, and chemicals. With enough pressure, it would rupture and create the effect of "serious bleeding."

The terrain reconnaissance was carried out by the most elite Lackeys. They ultimately selected a dangerous location called Throat-Cutting Gorge. The gorge was narrow, with steep slopes on both sides perfect for ambushes. At its entrance lay a relatively open field of jagged rocks, suitable for a "bandit" raid and the chaos of a "large army." The exit was even narrower, making it easy to create the illusion of being "cut off." Ambush positions, retreat routes, and observation posts were repeatedly confirmed and marked.

The roles of believers and bait troops were played by another equally loyal unit from the Faithguard Army, one with exceptional mental resilience and a talent for "acting." They repeatedly rehearsed the panic and confusion of coming under attack, as well as the hope followed by despair they would show upon seeing the Son of God descend. How to scatter at precisely the right moment, how to let out piercing screams, and how to convey fear through their eyes were all meticulously refined.

Everything was ready. The air was thick with the tension and anticipation of an approaching storm.

Five days later, Earthly Heaven's "vanguard"—roughly two thousand Faithguard Army soldiers escorting several hundred "migrating believers"—set out in grand force toward the border near Vladimir's sphere of influence. Their route happened to pass through Throat-Cutting Gorge.

The march was deliberately loose. The column was stretched long, and the scouts' alert perimeter was smaller than usual, presenting an image of carelessness and complacency.

At the same time, according to the "plan," Lorgar, the Son of God, was conducting a "routine patrol" along another route not far from the gorge with a small squad of guards. He rode a tall Colchis sand beast and wore a simple white robe that signified his status. Sunlight fell across him as though outlining him in gold, making him appear sacred and majestic.

When faint sounds of commotion and battle cries drifted from the gorge, Lorgar "happened" to look up, and his violet eyes instantly sharpened.

"Something's happening over there! Follow me!" he barked. He squeezed the beast's flanks and charged toward Throat-Cutting Gorge, taking the lead. His guards followed close behind, their faces showing just the right amount of "shock and fury."

Inside Throat-Cutting Gorge, the battle had already "erupted."

The death-seekers playing bandits charged down from the slopes on both sides of the gorge with the howls of rabid dogs, using rolling rocks and crude ranged weapons to create chaos. They fought fiercely, even somewhat "too" fiercely, utterly disregarding their own casualties. Their hysterical ferocity perfectly portrayed the frenzy of those corrupted by Chaos.

The Faithguard Army "vanguard," meanwhile, "hurriedly" met the attack. Their formation appeared somewhat disordered under the ambush. The soldiers shouted and fought desperately, but seemed overwhelmed by the enemy's suicidal fighting style. "Casualties" kept appearing, and for a time, the scene was utterly "gruesome."

"Protect the believers! Form up! Hold the line!" the vanguard officers shouted themselves hoarse, directing the troops to fight and retreat toward the gorge exit.

Then, like a divine warrior descending from heaven, Lorgar charged into the battlefield with unstoppable momentum!

He did not even dismount. He directly sent two "bandits" blocking his path flying, while golden flames suddenly ignited in his hand and condensed into a fiery whip that lashed through the air toward the densest cluster of bandits!

Boom!

The flames exploded, igniting several "bandits" amid screams. Beneath their specially made fireproof clothing was wet mud, so the fire quickly went out, but the smoke and spectacle were more than convincing.

"It's the Son of God! The Son of God has come to save us!" The disguised believers erupted in cheers of relief, and their morale soared.

Lorgar's appearance immediately turned the tide. Like a golden reef, he stood between the retreating troops and the pursuing bandits. Flames swept and lashed from his hands. Every attack appeared precise and lethal, forcibly halting the bandits' advance.

"Quick! Lead the believers out through the exit! I'll hold the rear!" Lorgar's voice was steady and powerful, carrying unquestionable resolve.

The troops obeyed and sped up their withdrawal, while Lorgar alone faced the growing tide of "bandits." He fought as he retreated. His white robe was already stained with dust and "blood," while the golden flames still burned, though they no longer seemed as fierce as before, as if he had expended tremendous energy.

Just as he punched a charging "bandit" away along with his shield, and his body showed the slightest imperceptible delay—

Whoosh!

A poisoned arrow flew from a hidden corner of the rocky field at an extremely tricky angle. Swift as lightning, it shot straight toward the weakly defended spot beneath Lorgar's arm exposed by his punch!

Lorgar seemed to notice it and twisted sharply aside, but he was still a fraction too slow!

Thud!

The arrow struck precisely! Though it was not a real penetrating wound, the paralytic toxin and muscle-spasm agent on the arrowhead instantly passed through the specially designed, easily torn fabric and took effect on his skin!

"Urgh—!" Lorgar let out a suppressed groan of pain. His entire body abruptly froze, while his struck right arm visibly turned bluish-purple and numb, even twitching faintly beyond his control! The golden flames surrounding him flickered violently, then suddenly dimmed by more than half!

"The Son of God is hurt!" someone cried in terror. The morale that had just risen plummeted into the abyss.

At that moment, from deep within the gorge, accompanied by a teeth-grating sound like flesh being torn apart, three enormous "Chaos mutants" slowly emerged!

Their "pulsating" tumors, dripping "slime," writhing "tentacles," and "bone spurs" gleaming with unnatural oiliness looked incomparably real in the dim light of the gorge, giving off a nauseating aura of blasphemy. They let out low, inhuman roars and closed in on the wounded Lorgar step by step.

The surviving Faithguard Army soldiers and believers were terrified out of their wits. Their retreat became a genuine rout.

Lorgar endured the numbness and terrible pain in his right arm—most of it a real physical reaction—and ignited golden flames in his left hand, much weaker than before, as he "fiercely battled" the three "mutants." The fight looked extraordinarily difficult. His movements were distorted by paralysis, and his flames could no longer easily "purify" his enemies as before, only leaving scorched marks on the "mutants." Meanwhile, the "mutants'" attacks left one "savage" gash after another around him—prepared beforehand with paint and torn fabric.

Just when Lorgar seemed to use the last of his strength to "blow apart" one mutant's "head" with fire, only to fall to one knee and gasp for breath—

Another twist struck!

An ordinary civilian who had been mixed among the fleeing believers, looking panicked and helpless, suddenly flashed with an eerie light in his eyes! He abruptly pulled out the carefully crafted "blasphemous dagger" from his chest. Like a lurking venomous snake, he stabbed viciously toward Lorgar's heart from a blind spot in his vision!

The strike was fast and ruthless, completely beyond everyone's expectations!

"Watch out!!"

At the critical moment, an explosive shout rang out! Zhou Beichen had somehow appeared at the gorge entrance with a squad of elite Torchbearer Battalion soldiers! His eyes were wide with fury.

"Take him down!" Zhou Beichen roared as he rushed toward the kneeling Lorgar.

The Torchbearer Battalion soldiers swarmed forward and quickly subdued the spy, who was still struggling and roaring. Zhou Beichen rushed to Lorgar's side and supported him. Seeing the horrifying bluish-purple color of his right arm and his pale, sweat-soaked cheeks, Zhou Beichen's eyes filled with "anxiety" and "rage."

"Hold on! Lorgar! Hold on!" Zhou Beichen's voice trembled as he and several others hoisted Lorgar onto their backs. "Retreat! Full retreat! Back to camp!"

The remaining troops protected Zhou Beichen and the "gravely wounded" Lorgar as they fled in panic from Throat-Cutting Gorge, which seemed shrouded in an ominous aura.

Deep underground, inside a specially treated soundproof shelter.

"Pfft—hahahaha!" Zhou Beichen pointed at Lorgar and finally could not hold it in any longer. He laughed so hard he doubled over, tears spraying from his eyes. "Lorgar, when you fell just now... hahahaha, that acting was way too over-the-top! You rolled your eyes up, and your tongue almost stuck out. What were you, a hanged ghost? No one saw through it, right?"

Lorgar moved his right arm, which had mostly recovered and retained only a faint soreness and numbness. Looking at Zhou Beichen, who was nearly laughing himself into spasms, he shook his head helplessly, though the corner of his mouth could not help curling upward slightly. "Father, that stumble when you rushed over at the end—and that voice crack when you shouted 'hold on.' You shouted loudly enough, but no matter how I listened, it sounded as though you were about to break character and laugh. It lacked that... well, heart-wrenching emotion."

"Damn it, carrying you was seriously heavy!" Zhou Beichen said, rubbing his sore lower back. "Still, the effect looks damn good. Before I came up just now, I secretly took a look. The atmosphere among those soldiers and civilians outside who don't know the truth was like the sky had fallen. Lots of young men had red eyes and were biting down to keep from crying. I bet they can't wait to fight Vladimir to the death."

Lorgar walked to the shelter's only observation slit. Through the camouflage, he looked at the camp outside, steeped in sorrow and rage, and softly said, "They really are worried."

"That's exactly the effect we need." Zhou Beichen stopped laughing and walked to his side, his gaze regaining some calmness. "A grief-stricken army is bound to win. Now the entire army believes you're critically wounded, while I'm just a 'false shepherd' who knows how to scheme and can't function without you. This is exactly when we're at our most 'vulnerable.' If Vladimir has even a shred of ambition or judgment, he won't pass up this 'heaven-sent opportunity.'"

Lorgar fell silent for a moment, feeling the genuine grief, anger, and solidarity in the camp that had arisen because of him. "Let's hope that old bastard takes the bait."

Zhou Beichen also looked north, as if his gaze could pierce through layers of earth and stone to see the fortified city known as Ice-Iron Fortress.

"Let's hope..." he repeated softly, his eyes gleaming with calculation and anticipation.