Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Chapter 332 Angel’s Dream·Do you recognize him?

"...Why is he there..."

"...Hey, I'm here to give you the key..."

Conrad Curze led Sanguinius through the market. They were intimidated by the terrifying aura of the Lord of Night. No one dared to get even closer. Everyone lowered their heads and focused on collecting the water purifiers, earthen jars, etc. under their hands. Half-knitted sun hats and children who would only cause trouble if they didn't help made a wide path for Conrad Coates.

Sanguinius, wearing a heavy protective suit, explained to Conrad: "I know the prices of goods in Baal, and I also know the business system here, but it is true that I haven't brought any money for a long time... As soon as I arrived at the market, they I wish I could give all the stuff on the stall to me! I can’t even fit it in my room.”

"You don't have to explain it to me, son of Baal," Conrad Curze's voice was hoarse than Sanguinius remembered, and even colder than Hanchuan's. "I'm not going to pay taxes."

"Huh?" Angel was stunned, not expecting that his brother was really still struggling with tax issues.

"Besides, even if I pay the tax, the money should flow to your treasury behind the closed stone gate, not the private pocket around your waist. Don't think about using my coins as your gold leaves."

"No, Conrad," Angel reached out and patted Conrad Coates on the shoulder, "Are you seriously playing the role of a fur trader?"

Konrad Coze slowed down, with deep doubts on his face, "What are you talking about, Son of Baal? Do you know me?"

Sanguinius' reaction was swift. Whether Curze was truly lost in the theatrics or if he truly didn't remember him, Sanguinius responded appropriately.

He shook his head inside the helmet, pinched the sides of Curze's bright red cloak with his fingers, and felt the feel of the material. Before Curze unhappily pulled away the hem of his clothes, he said briskly: "So to speak. Look, The source of your furs is not legitimate. If I tell the Pure Blood Conclave about their raw materials, you will have to pack up your belongings and leave us tomorrow."

Conrad Coates lowered his eyebrows and snorted slightly in displeasure, "Then give me back my two coins first, great angel."

"Well, although I don't know what you and that Morse have done," the angel regretfully found that he couldn't touch his chin through his helmet, "but I am still the leader of Baal, and - no, I have no wings, Why still an angel?”

He sighed deeply, his smile disappearing beneath his helmet.

"I don't know when you met Morse and me, Sanguinius." Conrad Coze spoke these words softly, seemingly unaware of Sanguinius's mood change, or maybe he didn't care. "We cannot pay the taxes here in cash right now. Morse proposes that you come and do a property justice for our... leather goods."

"You really don't know me, Conrad?" There was an underlying fluctuation in Sanguinius's voice, and his joking attitude slowly weakened.

"Who doesn't know you?" Conrad sneered.

"who I am?"

"No one knows who you are, Guardian of Baal."

Sanguinius lifted the muscles of his cheeks upwards, and in the process, his lower lip felt a slight pain from the pressure of his upper teeth.

He stood in the hot sunshine, looked around, and felt the stories carried by this land. Countless sand dunes make up the desert, and each sand mountain is the most authentic witness of time. Sweat fell from Sanguinius's forehead, leaving wet traces along his cheeks, and eventually dissipated within the rough protective suit.

The hot air was occasionally blown by a breeze, bringing a brief coolness to Conrad Coates. The wind passed through the market tent, causing the hanging kettle to knock on the iron-clad wooden shell, making a clear "ka-ka" sound.

Countless tiny grains of sand make a subtle and hoarse sound, like a whisper in the desert that continues slightly. They hover briefly in the air, and then quietly fall back to the ground, intertwined with their footsteps, becoming the most authentic accompaniment to the world.

What kind of dream can be so vast and real? How much data does this require, and what energy is required for such a simulation?

Sanguinius was suddenly shaken, as if he were back in his room that morning, wandering among the giant furniture, seeing everything as a slice of reality and worrying about it.

He shuddered slightly. Although he could not help feeling happy, he did not dare to imagine it deeply.

"Okay," he said softly, "take me to evaluate whether your leather goods are eligible for tax deductions, Konrad Coates."

"It seems that you really know me," Cozze said unambiguously, "Don't come closer to me, angel. No matter how cool it is near me, don't get close without permission."

"Aquila above, I've already touched your wings..." Sanguinius shook his head sadly.

Konrad Coates' vehicle parked in the middle of the market is very iconic, not to mention its dark blue background color like midnight and the blue and white zigzag lightning pattern used for decoration. Let's just say that it hangs on the bracket outside. A series of light pink leather materials, no one will do this.

There was no signboard hanging on the vehicle that was used as a store. Standing next to the vehicle was a mortal who had the courage to wear a black robe even in the scorching heat. His fingers were fiddling with a piece of black that spread out on his sleeve. The cloth strips seemed to be calculating something.

Before Curze approached, the man turned his head quickly like a prophet, his eyes swept around Sanguinius, and turned back his black-haired head indifferently, continuing to look straight ahead, looking into the unknown distance. point.

"That's..." the angel lengthened his words to express the question.

"Morse, the fortune teller." Coze showed a clear mockery of Morse's title, "Anyone who looks into the future is either crazy or stupid, or both."

"Does he see my future?" Sanguinius asked.

Had Morse also seen the fragments of him dying alone, seeing his personal death as his final contribution to the war?

In fact, Sanguinius himself never specifically glimpsed the situation at that moment, and Konrad Curze's overly fancy language has no reference value at all.

"Ignore him." Coze knocked on the iron plate of the vehicle. "He said that all three of us would die badly. It's full of nonsense."

"Including himself?" Angel raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, actually it's me." Magnus opened the curtain of the vehicle, stuck his head out, and looked at Sanguinius curiously. "He said I would theoretically be unlucky too. Oh, by the way, you don't know me, right? I'm Magnus, and I'm in the same group as Morse and Curze... who came to Baal to sell furs together. "

No, where did Magnus come from?

"Hello, Magnus." Sanguinius had not yet gotten over the shock of suddenly seeing a pearl-red figure with copper-like hair appearing in front of him. He subconsciously used his friendly smile, Sincere greetings and random pleasantries, "Are you...a magician?"

"How can I be a magician?" Magnus shrank back, as if he was frightened by the word, "I don't look like me!"

"Then you are..."

Curze's cool tone playfully revealed the truth before Sanguinius could say "scholar."

"He's here to help us move things," Coates said. "A porter."

Sanguinius heard the gears in his head jam.

"Why?"

Curze nodded in Magnus's direction, "This guy is bigger and stronger than all of us, isn't he?"

He smiled suspiciously, staring at Magnus as he briefed Sanguinius on his life.

“For someone so big,” he said sing-song, “it’s a shame not to be able to carry heavy things.”