The Emperor’s Angel of Death

After the review ceremony, the planetary governor published an exciting meeting titled "Never Give Up". He called on the people to quickly step out of their grief and devote themselves to the cause of dedication to the emperor with a higher morale.

　　 His speech cannot be said to be bad, but Soshyan only feels that the governor has become accustomed to being aloof, and his words are too broad and empty.

When Soshyan spoke, he did not mention his identity as the captain of the battle group, nor did he mention his identity as Astarte. He only told everyone that he was a graduate of Soms College and a Nathan the son of.

　　He shared the sorrow and sorrow with them, and was grateful to the people of Nathan 4 for their dedication to the Astral Knights over the past ten years.

　　 Soshyang didn't say much, but he promised one thing.

　　 Nathan 4 will definitely have a special tax exemption right!

Later, he also solemnly announced to the people the establishment of the Alliance of Misery and the addition of new members. When the four commanders held up their swords at the same time and made the oath of brothers, their words were completely drowned in the cheers of the crowd. .

At the end of the 　　 ceremony, it was people’s carnival. Hundreds of millions of alcoholic beverages were taken out, and people sang and danced to cheer for the victory.

　　 It's already afternoon.

　　 At the western gate of the square, the guards stationed here are still checking people entering the country.

　　 Until now, the flow of people is still constant. This celebration ceremony will last for three days. Variegists and vendors from the slums will flood into the night market, and the farmers will pull trucks full of food to unload the goods.

　　Of course, there is no shortage of thieves and scammers, as well as some people with other purposes——

"first name?"

　　 the officer in high-level uniform asked loudly.

　　 This person is a distinguished person, and he knows it himself.

　　 "Sorge."

　　 The man who seemed to be about 30 years old replied lazily. He was wearing a stinky black fur coat and nestled in the back door of a machine servant truck.

　　 "What's wrong?"

　　 "What's wrong?"

　　 "Everyone is crazy? What did our empire heroes say?"

"You do not know?"

　　 The officer looked at the man suspiciously, and repeatedly checked the other's documents.

　　 "I just got off the track and didn't hear much."

　　 "We are going to get the special tax exemption right here."

　　 The officer answered proudly.

　　 "Oh? Important news."

　　 "That's right."

"anything else?"

　　 "An alliance has been formed, and there are a total of four battle groups! Four! We are now a safer place than Holy Terra!"

　　 "Major news."

　　 Sorge nodded and repeated, feeling frustrated at the same time.

　　 The situation is a bit complicated.

　　 "There are others behind."

　　 Suddenly, the officer reminded him.

　　 Sorge shrugged, nodded, and motioned for the driver to drive.

　　 The man rode through one of the countless checkpoints in the west and entered the periphery of the square in a bumpy lorry.

This is his goal, maybe his **** fate, but the situation does not look very good. This dirty area is full of simple houses, temporary shops and various stalls. It takes several more kilometers to get there. To the real place of the square.

　　 Sorge jumped off the bumpy truck and began to hike along the busy road, bypassing the caravan and food truck.

　　 Suddenly, he had a bad feeling, which he used to call the first sense, because according to his beloved mother, he was born with no perception at all.

"Hey!"

　　 A voice behind him shouted:

　　 "Hey, you! The man in the fur coat!"

　　 Sorge cursed, there is no doubt that his fake ID was found.

　　 He looked back and saw a squad of guards approaching him from the checkpoint. They were accelerating their pace, pushing pedestrians in the way aside.

　　 Most of the local people immediately stepped away because these guards were not only aggressive, but also equipped with large-caliber guns and quite fierce swords.

　　 "Stop!"

　　 One of them shouted, but Sorge did not obey, so the officer began to scream at the pedestrians.

　　 "Get off! Don't stop us from shooting!"

　　 Shoot? It's really good and warm.

　　 The timing is worse than he expected, the situation is worse than he expected, and his expectations are definitely not high.

　　 It's time to change his identity. He needs to start using the skills he has honed in his long years of hunting and being hunted, as well as the power his master has given him.

　　 The man twisted his body with a smile, turned sharply to the left, and rushed down the street into a maze of narrow alleys-this is the most crowded area in the West Side.

　　 He didn't run into anyone, nor did he run over anything. Pedestrians either avoided him or stood still and let him pass by.

After 　　, he turned two more turns, turned left and then turned right, and walked along the damp alley between two wooden fences.

　　 The alleys were full of flags, and he could smell food and pipes.

　　 But the guards were equally physically sturdy. They followed him closely. Although they were wearing cumbersome armor, they were still walking fast and chasing after him.

　　 The fuzzy gray shadows of several giant food warehouses in front gradually appeared, and Sorge considered whether he could hide there.

　　 But the guards are very efficient. The second team has appeared on the opposite side of the street two hundred meters away. They plan to double-team from the other end of the street and encircle him with the previous pursuers.

　　 He realized that he needed to do it.

　　 It was so early to consider killing, which disappointed him, and at the same time was a little happy.

　　 He stayed in the subspace for too long, cold and hungry, just suitable for taking a few lives.

　　 Sorge was in a bad mood, and the guards who surrounded him gave him a chance to vent his emotions.

　　He was carrying four weapons, which he carried in a living flesh sac to ensure that these metal objects could perfectly avoid any scanning and inspection equipment.

　　 That fleshy sac is a product of some kind of witchcraft, and it is close to his back-his wizard master is very good at this.

　　 Among the four weapons, there is a pair of precision pistols with slender barrels and thick handles. They are manufactured with top craftsmanship and can fire a covering of needles.

　　 They are slightly inadequate in range and accuracy, but their rate of fire and penetration are enough to make up for the shortcomings.

　　 He took the two guns out of the sac and put them in the fur coat.

　　 The third weapon is a small chain saw sword, about the same length as the short sword. Its history is said to date back to the long war years before the Rebellion of Horus. I don’t know how his master got it.

　　 The fourth weapon is a grenade, but it is not any known hand grenade. Strictly speaking, it comes from some kind of alien craftsmanship. It is currently installed in the right pocket of his fur coat and mixed with other items.

　　 Sorge hid in the shadow under the eaves of a dilapidated shack, leaning against a partition wall and waiting quietly.

　　 Six people spread out from behind, and the other six rushed from the front. They were all guards, armed with weapons, and equipped with well-crafted swords for close combat.

　　 They are well-trained and fully armed, and they are sure to take him down.

　　 Sorge hurriedly put his hand into his jacket, drew out his double guns, and pointed his muzzle towards the clouded sky.

　　 Then he flicked the button with his thumb to activate the almost silent gravity accelerator ~www.wuxiaspot.com~ and let them start running.

　　 The handle of the gun gradually became warmer.

　　 The chasing footsteps stopped abruptly, and Sorge listened carefully. Amid the gurgling water of the nearby man-made canal and the noise of the distant streets, he caught some short and subtle soft noises: the team's internal communications, they were gradually spreading out and searching.

　　 come and catch me, he thought to himself.

　　 Two people suddenly appeared on his left. They turned around the corner of the shack, their weapons ready to go.

　　 Sorge smiled slightly, stepped forward, and fired with double guns in his hands.

　　 He pressed the trigger extremely softly, and the gravity accelerator projected the needles at an extraordinary high speed-this system was extremely efficient, releasing several high-penetrating bullets within a second or two.

　　 Sorge is proficient. The gun in his left hand spit out four needle sticks and penetrated the breastplate of one guard, while the gun in the right hand did the same to the other guard.

　　 In the next second, they fell silently on their backs, a wound that was difficult to observe with the naked eye loomed between their chests, and then a lot of blood poured out.

"Ok?"

　　 Sorge turned his head suddenly and saw the third guard appearing on the other side of the shack behind him.

　　 So he turned around, straightened his arm and fired with his left hand, sending two needles into the man's face, causing his brain to be cut in the skull.

　　 The man knelt to the ground first, then lay down on his back, his helmet sprayed a stream of blood when it hit the ground.

　　 But this kind of action still caused the surrounding vigilance.