Warhammer: Should I also sit on the Golden Throne?

0052 Dedicated to the Blood God

"Witch!!!" Léon the Spearman screamed as he flew into the air.

The conjoined woman's four pairs of eyes were all fixed on him. The howling psionic wind tore through the veil between warp and reality, whipping up a biting wind that swept across the red sand-covered arena.

Léon the spearman's body began to writhe in mid-air, his bones creaking and groaning as if they were about to snap.

Suddenly, a completely opposite force surged forth, violently pulling the spearman Leon's body backward. Leon's body slid across half the sand and crashed down beside Zhou Yun with a thud.

He lay on the ground, trembling all over, his mouth full of blood.

"Cheer up, it's Leon's name, don't let it drag you down," Zhou Yun said to Leon.

The gladiator's name sounds similar to the original name of the First Legion.

A sharp wail rang out, and the conjoined woman's eyes, flashing with untamed psionic flames, swept across the entire battlefield. The beastmen she controlled, along with several gladiators who were close to her, were all thrown into the air by an invisible force. Only Angron managed to stabilize himself by using his own weight.

He's a wild psionicist!

Zhou Yun swiftly waved his arm, and the crimson sand surged up like waves, flying into the sky and quickly concealing all the gladiators' figures in the yellow sand.

The gladiators in mid-air landed one after another, crashing into the red sand, and were pulled to Zhou Yun's side.

This woman clearly had not received any real psychic training; her psychic release relied entirely on instinct, requiring her to lock onto a target with her gaze.

But... although Zhou Yun had been mocking this purely forceful method of casting spells, the strength of this conjoined woman was just too great.

Twins naturally synchronize their souls when casting spells together, amplifying each other's power. They ascend to heaven by stepping on each other's feet with their left foot, creating the famous Sharp Twins, a pair of α+ level psionicists.

The conjoined twins' two heads also possessed unrestrained psychic abilities, though far less than the Sharp Twins. However, their two souls shared a spine and brainstem, which enhanced their psychic resonance. Furthermore, the veil of warp energy in this arena was so thin...

Level 11 Z? Level 12 E?

It's alright, they have the original on their side.

Zhou Yun's mind suddenly shifted, and two wills pierced into the brains of Angron and Kleist respectively.

Kleist gasped in surprise. In her vision, amidst the swirling yellow sand, the woman's figure was clearly visible.

Angron saw the same thing. He let out a low war roar, wielding two heavy battle axes, and charged towards the woman without any hesitation.

After a brief moment of surprise, Kleist reacted, activated the anti-gravity device, and her figure rose into the sky.

Angron, like a giant warhound, and Kleist, like a hawk soaring through the sand, attacked the conjoined women from the left and right.

A hissing sound suddenly rang out, and the metal collar around the woman's neck began to flash an ugly yellow light as the current surged into the twins' shared spine.

At first, Zhou Yun thought the collar was a psionic suppression collar, but now he understood that it was simply an electric shock collar used by high-level riders to stimulate the witch's psionic energy.

He cursed aloud, and the conjoined women began to scream.

A biting chill swept in from the subspace, white frost covered the sand, and the air seemed to freeze for a moment.

Then, centered on the conjoined women, the space groaned, the red sand in the sky was shaken apart like ripples in water, the field of vision instantly opened up, and an invisible force that distorted the air pressed down in all directions, followed by the chill of the abyss and the pungent ozone.

It's a level 13 Δ!!! How did the Nuthrians manage to catch this thing??

Kleist screamed in mid-air, her body flying backwards like a swallow with broken wings.

Zhou Yun hurriedly used his spiritual power to grab her in mid-air and pull her to his side.

But Zhou Yun still held onto hope; Angron was the Primarch—

Angron staggered from the shock of that terrifying psionic energy, losing his balance and taking several steps back.

".....?" A question mark appeared above Zhou Yun's head.

He...this...ah? No, that can't be right...Before being captured by the high-ranking riders, Angron single-handedly slaughtered an entire squad of Eldar, and those Eldar were much stronger than this untrained level 13 Δ...this...

Four eyes, four eyes filled with madness, suddenly turned to Zhou Yun; the conjoined woman had noticed him.

The smell of ozone filled Zhou Yun's nostrils. Those four eyes were like scorching furnaces swirling with flames. Subspace lightning pierced reality; gravity vanished for a fleeting moment, then psionic energy slammed into Zhou Yun like cannon fire.

A towering figure, as imposing as a majestic mountain, stood in front of Zhou Yun, and also in front of the gladiators Zhou Yun had pulled to his side.

Angron roared and stood in front of the psionic cannon. The battle axe he had crossed in front of him as a shield was twisted into a lump of scrap metal in just two or three seconds. His skin cracked, his muscles twitched slightly, and blood began to seep from under his skin, but he did not retreat an inch.

"What should I do?!" he roared at Zhou Yun.

"Give me some time." Zhou Yun sat cross-legged on the red sand. His fingers flew across the sand, drawing an octagon on the ground, enveloping his body within it.

He wanted to cross the boundary directly here and establish a connection between his body and the subspace.

With a single breath, air carrying the smells of scalding hot sand, ozone, and fresh blood rushed into Zhou Yun's lungs. In just a brief moment, his will transcended the shackles of his body and began to rise.

It was too thin; the veil here was so thin that it would break at the slightest touch, as if a sacrifice was being performed here, and the torrent of the subspace was instantly revealed to Zhou Yun.

It was a vortex filled with blood, skulls, sulfur, and burning flames...

With his second breath, Zhou Yun touched the curtain, and he easily stepped into the vast ocean... It was so powerful, the warp space near Nuseria was so powerful, the magnificent, scorching ether almost engulfed Zhou Yun's soul.

Zhou Yun saw it: in this arena, on every gladiator, the triumphant ropes, the scars, the red and black lines, the victories and defeats were intertwined and entangled, rising into this subspace and hovering in the storm.

This scene reminded Zhou Yun of the incense burning on the altar. Each gladiator was like a burning incense stick, ignited by each battle. Their courage, anger, victory, defeat, bloodlust, unity... everything rose into the highest heavens, offered to the bloodthirsty spirits and demons there for their enjoyment...

Zhou Yun now understood that his feeling was correct.

This arena is a bloodthirsty sacrifice, offered to that...

"This is the number 8."

In the classroom of Macurag, warm morning sunlight streamed through the narrow windows, and dust motes floated lightly in the air, like silk woven from plain silk. Zhou Yun pointed to the number eight on the blackboard and said to Robert Guilliman:

"It symbolizes bloodlust, killing, violence, and war."