Chapter 372: The Double Sects of Huaiyan

"Lord, I would rather others not believe in you and see you than others believe in you and not find you." - "The Book of Lorgar"

Morse guessed the Legion to which the Word Bearers' Astartes belonged before he even spoke his answer.

After all, after the Emperor burned the last cathedral, there would be no second Legion of Astartes still speaking those ancient words.

Morse did not deliberately collect information about the Seventeenth Legion, but in the eyes of Malcador, this unique legion was too important to ignore, so much so that the imperial prime minister often carried out worries based only on experience. The military reports sent back by the agents and the Word Bearers themselves were crossed with each other, and then the compared manuscripts were sent to Morse, hoping to get more clear suggestions and guidance.

To this, Morse usually has only one answer: Dear Lord Malcador, before the Emperor personally denounces or recognizes the Word Bearers, what extra trespasses do you expect me, a humble and humble rural craftsman from a remote galaxy, to do? thing?

+I hope you have someone available to fill your current position. +

Morse said, not with his tongue, but letting his voice alone echo in the Word Bearer Brother's mind.

+ Come with us and tell us about your hospital. +

The monk's deep purple eyes similar to his genetic father were widened, as if he had understood something, and his face was slightly lit by the fire of passion. After speaking a few short words of Colchis to his battle brothers in the sound array, he stood up with a face full of glory.

"Please," he said softly in Gothic, looking longingly at the two people whose identities he did not know and bowed deeply, "two respectable adults, please follow me on the escalator of the tower. Walking. We save the elevator for mere mortals who can’t walk long stairs.”

Perturabo took a step slowly, then reluctantly nodded, and said with that unyielding calm expression: "We are not gods or demigods as you say, and we don't need such respect, warrior."

The monk was unmoved and just showed a humble and strange smile: "Yes, sir, we have always understood."

clear?

Perturabo endured and endured, swallowing his doubts. He didn't want to openly accuse the other party in the hall of the charity hospital built by the Word Bearers, otherwise he would be on the same level as Rogal Dorn.

The corridors of this tower were originally filled with dust and debris and were unused. After the hive city law enforcement gave up searching deep into the floors, some homeless people began to take root in the shadows of various residential towers. However, this residential tower in the center of the city, which is often provided to people with wealth or status, is an exception, and therefore Stayed relatively clean.

After the Word Bearers arrived, the corridor was further cleaned to ensure that it could meet the basic conditions of a medical clinic.

They walked along the corridor, and from time to time, some Astartes with cuneiform tattoos on their skin ran past quickly, carrying some medical kits, or simply dressed like priests. Judging from the size and shape, these combination packages are exactly the packages carried by the drones that had previously flown overhead.

Every Astartes warrior passing by Perturabo would first be suddenly enlightened, then full of reverence, then recite two pious verses, and then leave happily with a blushing face.

Perturabo pretended not to notice.

"After discussions with the company, we used the first to tenth floors as a place to diagnose diseases, and the eleventh to thirtieth floors to care for patients whose illnesses are not urgent," the monk said. Mentioning these things made him a little worried, rubbing his fingers Holding his Holy Eagle Medal, "Such as headaches, various conditions of weakness, mild inflammation, trauma, digestive system problems, etc."

"The thirty-first floor is our kitchen. There are not many food sources here, and it is difficult for us to care about everyone's eating habits. We can only cook some average-tasting food..."

"On the 32nd to 45th floors, we focus on treating burns. There are some factories where these accidents are prone to occur..."

Morse and Perturabo alternately asked the monks some questions, mainly about the charity hospital they opened here, such as their supplies, manpower, hygiene issues, time, returns, etc.

Their manpower consists mainly of the Word Bearers Astartes themselves when not at war, their own legion of mortal auxiliaries, and finally the few Watchers in Hive Terra itself who are willing to obey their commands.

"We use our hands to draw the heads, wings, and talons of the eagle on the forehead and chest of the watcher, and then put a little salt in the mouth of the watcher," Brother Astartes happily mentioned this. "Many patients, or people who are not patients, come to us voluntarily after coming out of the shadow of death or seeing the effects of healing, hoping to be baptized."

"What if they don't want to?" Morse asked.

The monk was stunned for a moment. Perturabo stood aside, clearing his broad body so that the two Astartes carrying the stretcher could quickly run past him.

“For us, the Muristan Order, this does not matter, it simply means that water has not yet welled up in their hearts, the light in their souls, and the food of their souls have not yet been discovered, not that they have turned their backs on Him.

"They will naturally come to serve Him when He deems it necessary, and when that time comes, they will be sad if someone forbids them from following it, and they will be angry if someone takes away the truth from their eyes. They will I cried out to myself: No, I am willing to accept the condemnation I received for my past mistakes.”

"What about the Halhabait Cult?" Morse asked.

"Do you know them too?" The Astartes sighed, the joy of seeing the existence of the demigod in his mind quickly faded in the pile of guilt and dissatisfaction. His face turned into a faded parchment.

"Introduce them to me, warrior." Perturabo said, and decided to look up more information about the Word Bearers after returning.

Since it was Horus Lupercal who first found Lorgar Aurelion in the Pacific Segmentum, in addition to maintaining a good relationship with almost all active legions, the Word Bearers have always been close to the Luna Wolves and know each other better.

There are not many battles in the galaxy that require the Luna Wolves and the Iron Warriors to go out together without wasting military strength. In addition to some arrangements for the war, Perturabo has not actually met Lorgar himself so far, and his understanding of his legion is also very limited.

The monk nodded obediently and worriedly.

"Under the watchful eye of Yurizen, we once formed many sects, but in the end only two major sects remained, one is our Muristan and the other is Halhabait."

"'He says, to everyone who has, more shall be given; and from him who does not have, even what he has shall be taken away. As for those enemies who do not want Him to be their king, bring them here and kill them before Him.'[1] Because He said so, and as long as our Gene Father allows, they will bring destruction to anyone who does not believe."

"In fact, we should not blame them," the monk sighed, "because many of the supplies we provide to mortals come from the plunder carried out by Halhabait; from this standpoint, how unreal and insincere are we in front of Him?"

Through the corridor, Morse could see the mortals who were receiving treatment from Astartes on the current floor. Even inside the 18th Legion Salamanders, such a scene is rare.

Apart from fighting, many legions have different hobbies. For example, the Iron Warriors are keen on construction and design, the Thousand Dust Suns produce tens of thousands of research reports and articles every year, and the Emperor's Children are famous for their artistic works. Recently, they have started a trend of steel ornaments, creating many paintings based on silver steel.

For the Muristan Order, their interest probably lies in sparing no effort to invest their non-military materials in good deeds for Him.

"Objectively speaking, your expedition efficiency is probably basically improved by the Halhabait Order," Morse said, retracting his gaze. The efficiency of the Word Bearers in the Great Crusade even amazed Malcador. As for the number of dead souls created by the Skyfire, which is several times that of other legions, at least the Emperor himself did not mind.

The monk was even more ashamed, his face flushed, and he silently recited some prayers mixed with High Gothic and Colchic, such as "The Only Great One", "Leave His Eyes", "In Heaven", etc., to appease his conscience.

The Emperor's attitude has always been clear. The victory of the Great Crusade is superior to others. This is almost a condemnation for the Muristan Order, which makes them read more of the Imperial Truth and the sacred texts that accompanied Lorgar's birth, and find more scriptures that conform to their ideas and make corresponding interpretations.

There are only a few floors left to the top of the residential tower. Since it is Perturabo's private reserved place, the top floor is separated from the entire residential tower by an unlocked iron door, which requires Perturabo's own data line connection to open.

Ever since Conrad Curze reminded him of the unreliability of genes in Olympia, Perturabo has changed a large number of doors to this design.

"We have reached the top of the long steps," the monk said respectfully, "the place above does not belong to us, my lord."

Perturabo touched his hair, connected a pipe to the data board, and the iron door opened with a buzzing sound.

"Goodbye, warrior." The Lord of Iron said back.

Morse laughed and floated into the door. Before he saw the stunned monk, who didn't know what was in his mind, and hurriedly straightened his robes to kneel down, the door closed.

Inside the door was another place with a similar style to the Olympia workshop. It seemed that Perturabo planned to let his hometown workshop accompany him to every corner of the galaxy.

The Iron Lord took a long breath and finally showed obvious embarrassment. "How can Lorgar Aurelion stand such... passionate warriors?"

Morse smiled. It seemed that it was not difficult for him to accept the reality that such a group of people existed in the world: "You should start to worry whether Lorgar himself is so passionate."