Elegant Beyond Compare!
Then she sat up and closed her eyes.
Psionic Energy began to surge in Garden of Nurgle.
It was not an offensive Psionic Energy, not a defensive Psionic Energy, but a weak, radio wave-like signal.
That signal penetrated the barriers of Nurgle's Garden, penetrated the many obstacles in the Chaos field, and spread to every corner of Material Universe.
Its content is - analytical reports on all new viruses and plagues in the past week, as well as corresponding treatment methods and preventive measures.
This is a Psionic Energy warning.
Isha does this every day.
From the first day she was imprisoned by Nurgle, it has never stopped.
She analyzed every soup Nurgle cooked as a virus sample.
She regards every torture Nurgle inflicts on her as an opportunity to acquire Chaos disease Primarch.
When she was planting flowers in Garden of Nurgle, she was also using her life authority to analyze the genes of those flowers and find ways to fight the Chaos plague.
Then, she packaged all the research results into Psionic Energy signals and sent them to every race in Milky Way - humans, Eldar, even T'au, and even Orks that didn't even have Psionic Energy. As long as she could receive the signal, she would send it.
Among them, humans receive the most.
Because humans are the largest race in Milky Way, with the widest distribution and the largest number, and are also the most vulnerable to the plague of Nurgle.
Isha has a special feeling for human beings - not love, not family affection, but a kind of maternal love that says "you are so pitiful, if I don't help you, you will die".
After all, the human race, how should I put it, their Emperor sit on the throne and cannot move, their Primarch are more unreliable than the last, their Space Marines knows how to fight and kill all day long, and their Astra Militarum collapses at every turn.
Without her Psionic Energy early warning, the number of Imperium of Man deaths would have tripled at least.
Emperor has a very good impression of Isha.
He even wrote in his private notes, "Eldar Goddess of Life, a decent character, worthy of respect."
Of course, this sentence was said when Guilliman asked him to evaluate various forces. The original words were "Isha is a good person, not like you group of traitors."
When Asuryan saw this comment, the corner of his mouth twitched and he said nothing.
Today, the soup delivered by Nurgle is particularly strong.
Isha After drinking, he lay on the ground for two full hours.
Her body went from high fever to hypothermia, from convulsions to stiffness, from consciousness to coma, and then woke up from coma, six times.
She lost three kilograms of weight, the rash on her skin took forty minutes to subside, and it took seven mouthfuls to vomit out the parasites in her lungs.
She lay exhausted on the grass, looking at the leaden haze above her head.
Her dress was soaked, soaked with sweat and pus and blood, and clung to her body.
Her hair lay scattered on the ground, covered with grass clippings and dirt.
Her lips were chapped, and there was a trail of dried blood at the corner of her mouth.
Then, she smelled something.
It was a fresh, clean fragrance, like the earth after rain.
There was nothing rotten in the smell, nothing foul, nothing nauseating.
There is only a pure, natural atmosphere, like the forest and wilderness.
The breath floated from the border of Garden of Nurgle, seeping from the gap sealed by her Psionic Energy barrier at the junction of Nurgle's Garden and her territory.
Isha sat up suddenly.
Her heart was beating wildly.
The feeling was not like fear, but a kind of ecstasy that had never happened in 60 million years, like seeing a ray of light in the darkness.
Her eyes widened, her lips trembled, and her hands clenched into fists.
It's finally here!
Asuryan That old bitch finally remembered that she is her sister!
He finally sent someone to rescue her!
Isha almost rolled and crawled up from the grass.
Her skirt was still dripping, her hair was in a mess, and there was dried blood on her face.
But she didn't care so much anymore, she stepped on her skirt and staggered towards the border.
She has already thought about what to say when she sees Asuryan - Brother, you are finally here. I have been locked up here for 60 million years. Do you know how miserable I am?
I drink Nurgle's shit soup every day, I am tortured by new viruses every day, and I have to send Psionic Energy warnings to the whole Milky Way every day.
Can you be more reliable?
Tears were already welling up in her eyes.
While running, she used the authority of life to tidy up her appearance.
The stains on the skirt were removed by Psionic Energy, the grass clippings in the hair were blown away by the wind, and the blood stains on the face were gently wiped away.
She even took the time to put on a light makeup on herself - not the kind of heavy paint, but the kind of natural makeup that says "I was born to be so beautiful".
She couldn't let Asuryan see her in such a miserable state. She was the goddess of life, and she still wanted to be beautiful even if she had been imprisoned for 60 million years.
She ran to the border, took a deep breath, and stepped across it.
Fresh.
So refreshing.
The stench in Nurgle's Garden was completely isolated at this moment, replaced by a smell like a forest in the early summer morning.
The green grass, the blooming flowers, the gurgling stream - no, these were originally her Garden of Nurgle scenery.
But the breath brought by this outsider is purer, cleaner, and more refreshing than her Garden of Nurgle.
It is a unique, original scent that belongs only to Material Universe and has not been contaminated by Chaos.
Isha's tears finally shed.
She stood on the grass, opened her arms, and took a deep breath of the fresh air.
The breath surged into her lungs, and every cell in her body cheered. Her Psionic Energy surged in her body, like seeds awakened by the spring breeze.
Then she opened her eyes, ready to meet her brother.
In front of her stood a dark-haired man wearing a black Victorian tuxedo, a top hat, and a monocle hanging from his right eye.
The man was tall and well-proportioned, with a handsome and gentle face, and a calm smile hanging from the corner of his mouth.
He was lowering his head and combing his hair in an extremely elegant manner - first from left to right, then from right to left, then he used his fingers to pick up a strand in front of his forehead and gently smoothed it to the back of his head.
The elegance of the movements, the calmness of the posture, and the enjoyment of the expression are like a person who has just taken a shower admiring his beauty in front of the mirror.
Isha's smile solidified.
Her tears were still flowing, but the corners of her mouth no longer raised.
She stood there, looking at the man who was showing off her beauty, and asked with a trembling voice, "Aren't you here to save me?"