The Emperor’s Angel of Death

The gunboat took off as the warship carrying it passed by from a position close to the planet.

　　 In the cockpit, a figure in black armor was watching the track of New Badab, with warning lights scouring his vision.

　　 This planet looks like a tuft of disgusting yellow fat passing through the smoke and dust. The wreckage envelopes its orbit, and the twisted metal glows like a continuous embankment.

　　 There is no doubt that there was a big battle here not long ago.

　　 He revised his course to ensure that they would not approach the warning zone, then locked on the primary target and pushed the engine to its maximum output.

　　 Even though he was wearing power armor and locked in the pilot's device, as the pressure increased, he still felt the hammering sensation brought by the full speed.

　　 "Warning, the current engine running state and movement trajectory will cause damage."

　　 The mechanical beep rubbed his ears, and he ignored it.

He didn’t ask the technical priest who didn’t use much meat to access the gunboat’s communications, but it would inevitably do so. For a human who has been deprived of emotions by reason of pure logic, that person’s The predictability is excellent.

　　 "The possibility of a drop in engine output is currently 85.21."

　　 After a while, the mechanical voice added:

"estimated value."

　　 He didn't reply, it didn't make sense.

　　 The target in front of him is rapidly approaching, and the outer guard warship that serves as the first defensive circle of the Destroying Ghost is increasing from a small distant point to the metal outline projected by the starlight.

　　 Then he threw the gunboat into an irregular spiral trajectory and saw the two warning runes displayed on the helmet flash from yellow to red.

　　 "Start the battle display."

　　 He said to play, the space around the body became a network of blue, red and green arcs representing potential targets.

　　Of course, they don't include warships—he suspects that even if he fires at the smallest warship, he might not be noticed by the opponent at all.

　　 "Bird and several sighting arrays have targeted us."

　　 "Send identification signals."

　　 "Submit."

　　Technical priest responded buzzingly:

　　 "It is recommended that we reduce the speed, adjust the course to a stable trajectory, and turn off the weapon."

"Do not."

　　 He answered indifferently without pause.

　　 "Send a signal and see if they still feel that their best course of action is to blow us out of the void."

The outer guard warships have now become towering cliffs that block the sight of New Badab and the light of the stars. In the distance they wait for the inner defensive warships, and in the center of their formation, the Ghost of Destruction is huge and angular. Clear outline.

Obviously the Huron fleet has suffered a certain loss, but it is not devastating, and the pirate king obviously has reserves in other places. At least two heavy cruisers and one battle cruiser are not in his fleet. The collected red pirate fleet is in preparation.

　　 He yanked the gunboat up, flew out a zigzag trajectory, and then flashed back to a spiral state, and the voice of target locking appeared in his ears continuously.

　　 He was waiting while feeling the familiar feeling of the body in the armor being pulled by the G force.

　　 He missed this, and missed the control and crisis of the human-machine integration reverberating in his consciousness, which made him feel reborn and made him forget what he had lost.

　　 At the same time, dance has another meaning in the red pirate's gun sight system.

　　 cut in, the weapon is activated, the aim is activated, if they dare to fire, let them die.

　　 It is a message, a statement with meaning-don’t confuse power with power.

　　 Of course, he does not want to put such things into practice.

　　 "The opponent's warship has revoked their target lock."

　　 "Very good."

　　 "They are sending greetings to us."

　　 "Give me the microphone."

　　 "Submit."

　　 The static sound rang in his ears, and then disappeared.

　　 "The Black Heart King’s warships and soldiers welcome you, honorable envoy."

　　 The voice paused, and the people in the cockpit felt that they recognized it. The harsh tone and sharp speech were used for distraction rather than politeness.

　　Kelkus, of course it is him.

　　 is not Huron, not yet in time, unless they can confirm their reason for coming here.

　　 "Where did you come from?"

　　 Kyle Kus asked cautiously.

　　 Behind the black visor of his helmet, the man gave a dry smile.

　　 "I'm from Commander Zhan."

　　 He replied.

　　 The other party was silent for a few seconds, and then asked in a more modest tone.

　　 "Your Excellency?"

　　The visitor gave out a chuckle, like a ghost at midnight, after which he slowly said his name.

　　 "Iskander...Kayan."

　　 Half an hour later, the gunboat arrived at the hangar where the ghost was destroyed. Several soldiers in black armor walked out of the open hatch and went all the way to the place they needed to see the person.

　　 After walking for about ten minutes, they saw the powerful tyrant.

　　 But the tyrant's condition is a bit bad now.

　　 The tyrant still sat high on his throne, trying to maintain his posture, a metal claw scratched against the right handrail of the throne.

　　 The wound made by Soshyang before is no longer bleeding, only a few drops occasionally.

　　 Looking at the few people who appeared in front of him, Huron's lips inhaled in a low voice, his arms tightened, his claws clenched tightly, and he plunged deeply into the obsidian.

　　 Although he is trying to maintain his posture, all this is not hidden from Iskandar Kayan-he is the best wizard in the Black Legion, and one of the most trusted deputies of the battle commander Abaddon.

　　 At the same time, this wizard from Qianzi was also one of the first few people to cast the Black Legion.

　　Kayang raised his head, closed his eyes briefly, and opened his pale lips.

In another field of vision, Huron’s figure kept flickering, the ghost behind the throne was faint, the blood oozing from the gaps in the armor trembled constantly and blurred in the shadows, and then disappeared, and tiny ghosts surrounded his head and howled wantonly. .

Even though they are so far apart, Kayang can still taste the warm rust, sulfur and sweet smell ~www.wuxiaspot.com~Huron's state is far worse than what he showed, and even he can live. All coming down is already a gift from the subspace.

　　 Thinking of this, Ka Yang, with a melancholy face and amber skin, smiled, and then opened his eyes.

　　 "Your Excellency Ruft Huron, the commander asked me to say hello to you on his behalf."

　　 "Abaddon's greetings, of course."

　　 Huron shook his head with a smile, but this action made the wound in front of him more open. The damaged armor near the wound was turned up wrinkly like a sneer at the corner of his mouth.

　　Kayang affirmed that the rumor was true, and Huron lost a heart.

　　 Then the tyrant picked up the cup on the side, a red-black liquid was rippling in it, and then he drank it all.

　　Kayang frowned. It wasn't the other party's behavior, but the liquid.

　　 He could feel that there was a certain violent power and dark witchcraft in the liquid, much like a potion "Heaven's Feather".

Although the name seems very beautiful, the process of making this potion is extremely cruel. It is necessary to take the naturally conceived and conscious but unborn fetus from the mother's body, then crush it and mix it with several kinds of demonic blood, and then refine it. -Tens of thousands of fetuses may only have that few milliliters.

　　 The amount of Huron's bite——

　　 After drinking the potion, the sluggishness of Huron's body was swept away, and he returned to the domineering and shrewdness of the past.

　　 "Let's talk about it, what does Abaddon ask you to do."