The Emperor’s Angel of Death

"Where is your master?"

Garmo Zejie's hand gripped the man's shoulder so tightly that it cracked his collarbone.

"Please, my lord...please..."

As the man spoke, he whispered in pain.

"I have served faithfully all my life."

"There is no doubt that you think this is unfair."

Garmo Zejie's face was very close to the person's face. He smelled the smell of blood and fear, so his fingers moved only a little, and the person sobbed in unprecedented pain.

"But there is no fairness in the entire universe, don't you agree?"

Choking is the only reaction of that person.

"Tell me where is Prince Thorns."

The man screamed.

"My lord, please! Please! The master's resting place cannot be known by others, saying that if I tell you, he will skin me alive!"

"I don't think it's a big deal now, how about you?"

"Please, no! He is in the dome of the church! Please, my lord!"

"It's not difficult, is it?"

Gal Mozejie let go of the man, and the other man crawled away trembling.

They were in an explorer's fortress, which was assigned to them by Abaddon as a stronghold. There are complete facilities here. The people here were directly evacuated, so they were not damaged by the war.

More importantly, it is very close to the Red Sand Mountains.

Galmozeje expressed his satisfaction with this, and began to construct his own plan centered on this place.

Everything is going smooth.

While walking, Galmozejie heard the voices of the servants, but did not see them. Occasionally, they ran away from him in a hurry, like a mouse on the wall.

Inside the fortress, the air was mixed with the smell of complex compounds produced by burning. His nerve detection organs processed all of this, allowing him to taste the wonderful aftertaste after a thousand deaths.

He walked through the corridors blocked by blackened corpses, their twisted limbs and screaming faces were carbonized into a group of sharp objects, which looked like a multi-limbed monster ended its life there.

In a huge atrium, water, coolant, and human excrement poured down from broken pipes, while in other places, corrosion penetrated the floor, and metal products and dead bodies were covered with thin rotting fungi. This is what The performance of the power of chaos.

He went to the church in the fortress, where Garmo Zejie smelled fresh blood.

Soon after, he heard screams.

"Amon Carl..."

He took a breath, then proceeded cautiously.

The servant did not lie.

The booth on the upper dome of the church is piled with relics that were shattered during centuries of war. The moldy rags are all the remnants of the flag of the former enemy. Weapons and bones are piled in the corners. The hands of dozens of separated human civilizations Handicrafts are scattered on the floor.

All the feeling of the dome as a memorial place was shattered by betrayal.

At the same time, it has become a place where people's souls are dispelled.

On each pillar were shackled corpses with traces of cruel torture. The central aisle of the hall was lined with human heads without eyes, and the air was filled with the smell of excrement, blood, rotten flesh and charred meat.

Braziers, torches and wicks lit with human fat brought hellish light to the room, and the few windows were not broken. This creepy, dark nightmare scene made the hall look like a Shura field.

Six simple cages are lined up on one wall. Most of them are empty, but two are piled up with thin and dirty bodies. The only thing that proves that they are still alive is the light in their eyes. Everything was indifferent, his eyes fixed on the iron table in the center of the room.

There was a person about to die on it, and it was impossible to tell whether it was a male or a female.

The man's lips were cut off, his face exuded a little breath, and the skin bag was hung on a bare shelf in an obscene manner.

There, Amon Carl saw Amon Carr, Prince of Thorns, at work-naked, black-haired shawl, pale flesh covered with nerve holes and scars left by ritual killing counts.

He is as guilty as every cruel midnight lord, but he also enjoys it, but when you think about it carefully, this is not just for enjoyment, it is also the way of his twisted morality.

"Carl."

Garmo Zejie called out softly.

But the other party didn't lift his head, just gave out a chuckle, the blood stain of the previous victim and the smooth metal of his nerve interface gleamed in the fire.

"I hear you coming, your steps are always too heavy, Garmo Zejie."

"Your reconnaissance and hunting during this period has helped us a lot. The operation is about to begin. It's time to abandon these time-wasting tortures and pick up weapons again."

"There is nothing to waste time. I taught these people a valuable lesson."

The prince of thorns bent down and poked his fingers into the victim's ribs. The latter made an incredibly loud noise, and the fainted plaything took two rapid breaths. Then, as a long breath came out, the painful soul was gradually forgotten.

Gal Mozejie watched all this. He knew the Eighth Army’s obsession with dismemberment and torture, and he also taught them how to hang their bodies high on pillars in public places and busy roads, and pour their thickened liquid on them. The act on the wreck below.

These people are unpopular in many places, but Garmo Zejie realized their role-these people are true masters of fear.

"Kill a thousand people."

Staring at the bleeding corpse, Prince Thorns narrowed his eyes and muttered to himself:

"Don’t let anyone testify, and don’t ask what achievements have been made? Who will know? Who will respect you? Who will respect or obey you? But kill someone, let the world see, hang him high, hack Kill him, make him bleed, and...disappear."

"Now. Who knows? Everyone! Who is afraid of you? Why, everyone! Who will respect you and who will always obey you? Everyone!"

"These mortals are very delusional, kill a thousand people, they will hate you, kill a million people, they worship you... But kill one person, they will see in every shadow Monsters and demons. Kill a dozen people, and they will scream and wailing at night. What they feel is not hatred~www.wuxiaspot.com~ but fear."

"This is the way of obedience, they are timid, delirium beasts, these mortals...we should be so for them."

Garmo Zejie had a smile on his face and patted his hands lightly.

"Yes, that's right, fear is the most powerful weapon. The fear you spread has spread among those mortals like a plague, and even the rumors that we spilled that the empire is about to be purged, there are many people. Accepted."

At this time, Garmo Zejie took out an object and threw it to the prince of thorns, who grabbed it in his hand.

It was a necklace, stained with blood, and the Prince of Thorns lifted it up.

"A Skyhawk?"

"In a refugee camp you attacked, thousands of people were together. They committed suicide while wearing this thing. There was a bigger one hanging on the wall."

"so?"

"They prayed to the throne, hoping that he would come to save them, imagine! Imagine that in their fragile little brains, there will never be any hard labor, no shifts, no obligations, rewards or rights imposed, no magical things. Killer, the last thing waiting is probably a painful death... so they regard the emperor as a god!"

Gal Mozejie laughed and said:

"In order to taste the sweetness of hope, how quickly they discarded their lives!"

A smile appeared on the face of Prince Thorns.

"Hope is only an illusion, life is only painful."

"Then let us bring more pain."

Gal Mozejie smiled and picked up a helmet tied around his waist, a brand new, baroque, silver helmet.

"First of all, let's change a look."

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