Son of Night

As the saying goes, "Like father, like son," and with such a promising child, it's impossible not to show off.

So, Han Mingxuan once again arrived at the Emperor's carriage.

"Old Han? What's with your clothes...?"

"It's Old Ma! Let me tell you, this was prepared by Curze and the others themselves. What do you think? Not bad, right?" Han Mingxuan said with a smile.

"Them?"

"Yes, it was prepared by Curze and his brothers. Look at the fabric, look at the workmanship, top-notch."

"Old Han, you... you're here to show off, aren't you?"

"Nonsense! If I didn't come all this way just to show off, what would I be doing wandering around this warship? Boarding it?"

Hearing the pride and barely concealed joy in Han Mingxuan's tone, Malcador was happy for him, but also felt a little sorry for his old friend.

Look at them, how well they educated Curze!

"You've raised the child very well, Old Han."

"Teacher's job is to educate and nurture students. Now that Curze has grown up, I can take a break for a couple of days."

"Aren't there still Perturabo and Mortarion?"

Upon hearing this, Han Mingxuan was immediately overwhelmed.

"What a pity, Old Ma, you don't have a beard."

Is there a problem?

"If you have a beard, I'll set it on fire and use it to boil water."

"A beard can't boil water, my friend."

"So please don't bring up things that are hard to talk about, Old Ma."

Speechless with emotion.

For the first time, Malcador, a Perpetual, was rendered speechless by Han Mingxuan, an ordinary person.

"You have done a lot for the Imperium, Old Han," the Emperor said.

"It was an unexpected stroke of luck; after all, Curze is the Primarch, so excellence is just the bare minimum."

Malcador glanced at his old friend.

Well!

I won't talk about it.

Terra, the Throne World of the Imperium of Man, the base of the Son of Night of the Eighth Legion.

They haven't received any missions recently, or rather, no combat missions.

Their mission is only one thing.

They must straighten their ranks and prepare to welcome their Primarch, their Gene-Father.

"Sir, is our father really coming back?"

"Yes, we received the news months ago, didn't we?"

What kind of person was the Gene-Father?

What kind of person?

Yes, what kind of person would the Gene-Father, whom we've never met, be?

Is it like the Lion, or like any other Primarch?

Or perhaps neither?

What kind of person is he? What kind of living environment does he have? What kind of personality does he have?

Would he be a good leader?

Would he be a... good father?

Is this new Gene-Father capable of leading them, or rather, worthy of leading them?

Anyway, things are complicated regarding Iron Warriors... it's a long story.

Furthermore, do they deserve to be called the Gene-Father?

All these questions echoed in their minds, constantly tormenting them.

After all, they didn't come from privileged backgrounds, or rather, they themselves were tainted by sin.

Son of Night.

They were soldiers of the Eighth Legion, but before that, they were criminals of Terra.

From the moment they were born, the first thing they saw was not the sun, but a dark and gloomy prison.

They are the embodiment of evil, bloodshed, and cruelty; they are the collective name for all the sinners and unforgivables of Terra.

A long time ago, they had a cousin in a similar situation.

Originally known as Eaters of the Dead, they are now called Blood Angels with the return of the Primarch.

"Sir, everyone is assembled."

"Yes, let's continue preparing. We need to make a deep impression on our Gene-Father."

"Yes!"

Terra, in the Primarch's Palace.

Mortarion was scratching his head in frustration.

In fact, he had been in this state for several months.

Normally, his Numerology wouldn't be wrong, but a few months ago, some news came back.

That was his other brother.

The Primarch of the Son of Night.

Out of curiosity among some fortune tellers, Mortarion used Numerology to calculate it.

Then he calculated a word.

A word he didn't recognize.

The character was square and neat; when he calculated it, it was more like he drew it from a model than wrote it down.

It's not difficult anyway.

It is square and upright, with half on each side.

Of course, he wasn't sure which Planet's script it was.

However, his intuition as the Primarch and the entire system of Numerology told him that it was a single word.

Moreover, this character is very heavy.

So heavy that after he copied the character, all the Bone Fragments he used for calculation turned to powder.

From that moment on, Mortarion's curiosity could no longer be suppressed.

He would calculate it from time to time.

But the more I calculated, the more confused I became, and the more alarmed I grew.

Yes, ever since the Bone Fragments shattered, everything related to that new brother or that word has become distorted.

Moreover, this situation began to worsen over time.

It started with some inaccurate calculations about Horus, then it was about Fulgrim, then Ferrus Manus, Lorgar, and even the Great Angel and Guilliman!

But this is just the beginning.

Because, apart from the brothers who went with the Emperor, some things between the other brothers who didn't go can't be accurately predicted.

This made Mortarion both curious and terrified.

Clearly, this new brother is shrouded in the Mist and obstacles.

I can't see it clearly, I can't see it at all.

"The eagle's eyes were blinded by smog; the sky of yesteryear could no longer guide it."

"All that talk is pointless; it's just a tangled mess."

"When the new brother comes back, I'll fight him first, and then everything will be clear."

"The Emperor has his own plans, we'll just wait. An eagle needs patience to weather the storm."

"Ugh, I don't know why they called us all here. It's really baffling. Hey, Magnus brothers, why aren't you saying anything?"

"Huh? Oh, what's wrong Russ, brothers?"

Wolf King Leman Russ Russ, looking at his absent-minded brother, even suspected that he might have Mjed.

He knew that cultured people were bound to have a very low alcohol tolerance.

"By the way, I haven't asked you yet. Didn't you go to Nostramo? How did it go?" Khan said.

"Don't ask, brother. You'll find out when the time comes. Nostramo is special."

Clang!

A Blond Man sitting at the head of the table slammed his fist on the table with a loud bang, looking at Magnus with impatience.

"Calm down, Lion El'Jonson," Khan said.

"Magnus doesn't want to say, presumably on the Emperor's orders. Let's just wait and see."

Sure enough, the mention of the Emperor calmed the Knight King down.

"I'm really looking forward to it. I wonder what kind of person our brother will be." The dark-skinned Lord of Drakes spoke softly, his tone gentle and calm, carrying a hint of anticipation.

Mortarion watched all this with a cold eye, knowing that his new brother brought with him an unknown destiny.