Heaven and Earth Thundered

Lion slowly raised his sword.

The sword was aimed at Perturabo's throat.

Only one sword strike is needed.

With just a gentle strike of the sword.

And that was the end of it.

But at that moment—

A tremendous roar came from afar.

That's the direction of Dragon Spirit Star.

That's the direction of the Demon-Forged Palace.

That is--

The direction of Vashtorr.

On the other side of the battlefield, however, the situation was completely different.

If the battle between Perturabo and Lion was an epic clash of titans, a fateful collision between Primarch, a legend worthy of being etched in history—

For the Blood Angels, it was a complete dimensional reduction attack.

Ten thousand red figures are frantically weaving through the Chaos Alliance.

The scene was like ten thousand human-shaped harvesters rushing into a wheat field.

The only difference is that the wheat field represents the Chaos Alliance, while the harvester is an angel.

A Blood Angels crashed head-on into an entire squad of Chaos Space Marines —the elite of the Black Legion, veterans personally trained by Abaddon, ruthless men who had seen countless battles.

The leading Chaos Lord grinned and raised his Power Axe, ready to teach this arrogant red-skinned brat a lesson.

The next second, his vision spun around.

The last thing he saw was his headless body gushing blood.

The Blood Angels didn't even slow down; with a casual swing of its sword, it severed his head.

Then he charged into the midst of the Chaos warriors, his sword flashing like a storm.

Three seconds later, only scattered limbs and severed bodies remained on the ground.

The Blood Angels flicked the blood off his sword and muttered something.

That's it?

Then they continue rushing towards the next batch.

Ten Blood Angels stormed into the ruins of a Chaos Fortress.

There are thousands of Cultists hiding inside, trying to rebuild their defenses.

When they saw the ten red figures, they were still laughing—ten against a thousand, wasn't that suicide?

Thirty seconds later, there were zero survivors.

One hundred Blood Angels besieged a Chaos Cruiser.

The cruiser unleashed its full firepower, bombarding the enemy with plasma cannons, torpedoes, and laser cannons simultaneously.

But those Blood Angels were too fast—fast as ghosts, fast as lightning, so fast that the weapon systems simply couldn't lock on.

They darted wildly across the ship's hull, each sword strike leaving deep cracks in the armor, each impact tearing apart the giant vessel's structure.

One minute.

Just one minute.

The cruiser began to disintegrate.

Countless Chaos Warriors poured out of the ship, attempting to escape in the escape pods.

But the Blood Angels were faster than the escape pods—they caught up, one slash at a time, cutting the pods and the Chaos Warriors inside to shreds.

Not one escaped.

Not one.

A Blood Angels was fighting fiercely, covered in blood, with the corpses of his enemies piled up like a small mountain around him.

He was panting heavily, a satisfied smile on his face—the smile of someone who had thoroughly enjoyed killing.

Then, he felt something bump into him.

The force was so great that he was sent flying, tumbling through the air more than a dozen times before crashing heavily into the armor of a warship.

He shook his head, then looked up, wanting to see who had attacked him.

Then he saw--

Perturabo.

The Primarch of the Lord of Iron was retracting his fist, looking at him with a complex expression.

The Blood Angels paused for a moment, then--

Continue charging towards the battlefield.

It was as if that punch had only been a mosquito bite.

Perturabo's lips twitched slightly.

He stared at those red figures, at their terrifying speed, their terrifying power, their terrifying...

quantity.

Ten thousand.

A full ten thousand.

Each of them gave him the impression of being almost identical to the Adeptus Custodes.

What exactly is the concept of the Adeptus Custodes?

Those were the Emperor's personal guards, the strongest warriors in the Imperium of Man.

With proper coordination, dozens of Adeptus Custodes can even surround and kill a Primarch.

And now--

There are ten thousand.

Ten thousand Blood Angels whose strength is close to that of the Adeptus Custodes.

Perturabo's forehead was covered in cold sweat.

He remembered that he had just been mocking Abaddon, saying that the Chaos Warmaster was only fit to fight minions.

Now, looking at this group of Blood Angels, he suddenly felt—

Abaddon didn't seem to be in such a terrible state.

At least Abaddon was only fighting a Dark Angels, the Supreme Grand Master.

And he--

He was facing the Primarch.

He was still the Primarch, accompanied by ten thousand Adeptus Custodes -level henchmen.

What the hell difficulty is this?!

Perturabo took a deep breath, suppressing the shock in his heart.

He turned his head and looked at Lion, who was approaching, and at those eyes burning with golden flames.

Then he spoke:

"Lion."

His voice was calm, yet it contained a certain profound meaning:

"Hurry up and get started."

Dante forward to try and stop them, saying he would lead ten thousand Blood Angels to kill Perturabo.

But Lion refused.

"This is my battle."

He said.

Then, he stepped onto the deck of the Chaos warship and engaged in an earth-shattering duel with Perturabo.

And now--

He won.

In the distant void, something else is happening.

A vast number of Dark Angels souls are drifting in the Warp.

Those were soldiers who died in battle.

Those are the heroic spirits who defended their honor with their lives.

That is--

Offerings for the Vashtorr ceremony.

The power of the Four Chaos Gods rippled around those souls, carefully preserving them, preventing them from dissipating, from being swallowed by the Chaos of the Warp, from letting them—

disappear.

Because this is a ceremony.

A ritual of becoming a god.

The soul of Space Marines is far, far more powerful than that of a mortal.

To give an example—if the soul of an ordinary mortal is worth one cent, then the soul of Space Marines is worth one hundred dollars.

It's a red 100-yuan bill, the kind that's so appealing to look at.

And now--

These red banknotes are appearing in heaps in Warp.

Ten thousand Blood Angels died in battle? No, it was a crushing victory for the Blood Angels; they didn't lose many.

But what about the Dark Angels?

Before Lion arrived and before the Blood Angels came to the rescue, the Dark Angels had been fighting the Chaos Alliance for an unknown period of time.

The Deathwing Terminators were almost completely wiped out, the Ravenwing Knights lost more than half their strength, and countless Unforgiven warriors defended that last line of defense with their lives.

Those souls are currently drifting in the Warp.

Stacks, piles, bundles.

Even the person with the most severe trypophobia would instantly feel relieved upon seeing so many red banknotes piled together.

Who doesn't want more money?

The Four Chaos Gods are clearly not too many.

Their power is frantically reaping those souls, preserving them, infusing them into the ritual, and...

It became the fuel for Vashtorr's ascension to godhood.

Why make Vashtorr a god?

Because the Four Chaos Gods were in a hurry.

I'm really in a hurry.