Chapter 113 Respecting the Elderly Is a Traditional Virtue

Danat Lysander opened his eyes again in the infirmary of the Destiny Steel.

His nose was filled with the familiar smell of disinfectant similar to that of the infirmary of the Phalanx.

Unforgettable.

To this day, whenever he thinks of what he did here that day, in front of the Gene-Father and with his thousand-year-old enemy, the Iron Warriors' warsmith Shantuo, he would-

Ahhhhh stop it! Lysander! Don't think about it anymore! Don't think about it! Think about something else!

-No, I should have seen something indescribable and impossible in the chapel before I passed out. The highest blasphemy against the Emperor and the Primarchs-

No, no, no, no, that must be an illusion, it can't fool me, it must be because this is the lair of the Demon Lord and the pollution of the Chaos enemy everywhere, it can't fool me! It should be just an ordinary traitorous Space Marine, who just happened to wear the stolen priest power armor, and his face has not mutated and just looks a little like an Ultramarines... Calm down, calm down, calm down, Lysander, think about something else!

Well, at least there is no nympho here today who makes people want to smash his head with a hammer. Lysander lay alone in the cold but quiet medical cabin. For the first time in more than 1,300 years since he started fighting for the Empire and the Imperial Fists, he didn't want to get up immediately.

As long as he thought about how many things that would make his skull explode would be waiting for him after he walked out of this medical cabin, especially the reproachful and resentful eyes of the entire First Company and the Reverend Brother Likewen - the former captain who had never slacked off for a moment in centuries of service quietly developed a timid ostrich mentality like poison ivy in his heart.

This feeling is really fresh and strange.

Lysander lay there, closed his eyes again, and thought about it. His Lyman Ear caught another familiar footsteps. The same calm and quiet, he knew who it was, Parogov Nilaydoa, the living saint of his genetic father - and also the chapter pharmacist apprentice of the Iron Warriors who called himself "Silver Skull".

——It's just a pharmacist apprentice! I want to see what that arrogant bastard Iron Warrior who dared to call himself the master of the living saint Rogal Dorn looks like——

"Good afternoon," Fortunately, Brother Nilaidoa's voice is very similar, but it can still be distinguished that it is younger and more bookish than the calmness of Lord Rogal Dorn. Similarly, the living saint's words and sentences are more casual than the habits of his gene father himself.

"I see that your heart and brain monitoring graph has entered the awake and active range, Brother Lysander. If you wake up and want to lie down for a while, you can tell me. Do you need a pillow and a blanket?"

The heat caused by shame rushed to Lysander's cheeks. He suddenly opened his eyes and tried to pretend that he had just woken up.

"Good afternoon, Nilaidoa...Pharmacist." He considered for about 0.0001 seconds whether to use "Sir" or "Master" or "Monk" to address him would be more in line with the other party's identity, but it seems that the living saint of the Imperial Fists is quite satisfied with the title of pharmacist.

"I just woke up, eh." Lysander suddenly realized sadly that it was really easy to use lying skills in language, as long as it happened for the first time.

And now he, who was once extremely honest and pure, has become a braggart in front of his father, the living saint. "I feel that I need to move around before I can get up. Maybe the blood flow is not fast enough due to the low temperature."

The young and miniature version of his gene father nodded at him, "That's right, but we usually keep the temperature in the cabin low, which helps prevent the development of serious injuries and the occurrence of accidents, and it is also convenient for us to adjust the dosage of various drugs. I will later suggest Master Hongsuo to raise the temperature of the medical cabin used by patients with minor injuries or less."

"Oh and this." As the living saint spoke, a black linen robe with a skull pattern embroidered with silver thread that looked very much like the Iron Warrior emblem and a wide leather belt with an equally uncomfortable silver emblem buckle were put into his hands together. Nilaidoa also pointed to the ground, and Lysander followed his guidance to see a pair of soft-soled cowhide gladiator-style sandals of Astarte size.

Lysander hesitated.

On the Iron Blood under Perturabo's rule (especially with the presence of a warsmith who had obviously defected to the Dark Prince), was it really wise for him to dress like this?

"Put them on quickly." Parogov Nilaydoa's voice came from behind the door of the pharmacist's special preparation room next to him. With a series of teeth-grinding mechanical interface closing, airlock depressurization, cable pulling out and belt buckle fastening, the young pharmacist strode out from inside, adding a pure white skull mask to his noble face as he walked. It disappointingly covered the face that was as noble and resolute as the seventh primarch, revealing only the straight and smooth lines of the jaw and lower lip.

"Your power armor and equipment have been taken away by the armory guard who delivered the words of uncontrollable anger," the living saint's voice had a little bit of a laugh, "The 'sage' doesn't speak well. I guess you will be troubled when you go to get them back. After all, he really hates people who don't come according to the schedule and disrupt his work schedule."

"Ah. That's it." Lysander answered vaguely. He suddenly found that he had become accustomed to the religious chants of the state religion, ascetic questions and answers, pre-war mobilization and battle roars. Such a relaxed conversation in daily life happened between two Asta Suddenly, one of them was even regarded as the representative of the Primarch - which made him actually at a loss.

"Well, when the father of genes was away," he heard Nilaydua say in a very natural tone, "he entrusted me with the work of fighting and guiding our lives here. Of course, given that you After all the battles and years I have experienced, I don’t think my qualifications and knowledge are enough to take on this kind of responsibility, but I still—”

"You only need to do the job you have been entrusted with, and we will complete the other parts." Lysander pursed his lips, "Belittle yourself is the last thing you need. I believe that even if the First Company and I may have a big difference, We may have differences, but when it comes to protecting you and obeying orders, we must have the same goal.”

"I have no doubt about this." The other person seemed to raise his eyebrows slightly, behind his mask, "But humility is not a bad thing anyway, Brother Lysander."

The former company commander lowered his head slightly to show respect to him, and then at the other party's signal, he walked with him through complicated corridors and airtight arches to a certain destination.

"I noticed that you've been looking at my mask. If there's anything you want to say, you might as well say so."

Lysander was startled, but then asked his own question, "Is this mask a symbol of some kind? Or some kind of..." Humiliation, he thought, what the Fourth Primarch Perturabo did to the father of our genes. Some kind of humiliation?

"Oh, because the Chapter Master said he couldn't look at my face," Nylaidoa didn't seem to care much, "What's wrong with you, Brother Lysander?"

"How can you just endure the insult that requires you to hide this sacred face?! How can you call him sir?!"

The other party looked at him in surprise, "Insult? Brother Lysander, what are you thinking about. The last time he saw me, he was... well... the situation was almost beyond control," the living saint's next words immediately made the former company commander repeat. His thoughts became confused, "Considering that he is indeed old and such a good person, we should be more considerate to him. Respecting the elderly is a traditional virtue that is worth taking the lead in promoting in the battle group. Don't you think so, Brother Lysander?"

Getting older?

Are people so nice?

Considerate?

Perturabo?

Lysander's remaining sanity was once again caught in a warp storm.

Gua.

? Did you write a bunch of words and send them to me?

God wants me not to sneak out of the plot.

Modified again: Okay, there is no screen, I am the only one who can’t see () kill t big steamed bun! (angry)

The second one is more, we are at the yard, let’s have dinner first