How can a retired savior be considered retired if he drops to 40,000?

She should have ended the conversation with the Primarch at his signal and made some preparations for her journey to the front line. But before she turned around, she suddenly turned back and asked a question she knew the answer to: "My Lord, don't you want someone to record everything on the front line?"

After she said this, she regretted it. Irene realized that she was really presumptuous in the face of this Primarch who seemed too non-aggressive. She really shouldn't have presumptuously speculated on the thoughts of a legion master and exposed this fact to him in person. Even if his life ended at this moment, no one would be surprised - but to her surprise, Fujimaru Ritsuka didn't show any sign of being offended. She was just... a little surprised.

Then, she smiled. It was a cheerful smile that matched her age, which made Irene, who thought she had survived a disaster, feel awkward.

"...I must admit that I almost misjudged you and thought you were no different from the previous narrators who didn't know what they were doing." The Primarch said, "And, yes, I don't really want anyone to go, but I'm not that unwilling. Few people dare to point out my hesitations like you did. I admire your courage, even if it was impulsive. Please come back alive with all your limbs intact."

Irene nodded, not quite understanding. She understood this contradictory feeling, but at the same time she thought it would be better for her not to delve too deeply into this issue - at least not today. Rather than continuing to explore the Primarch's thoughts, she had some more relevant questions to understand:

"So, were you just trying to scare me with what you said before? Or was it true?"

"I admit that I was subtly conveying my opinions to you when I said those words, but they are all true." Fujimaru Ritsuka answered frankly, "As I said before, there is no absolutely objective 'truth'. If you can understand this, I may be able to let you coordinate the compilation of the Legion's war history."

"But I'm just a photographer..." Irene's first reaction was panic. She felt that the other party expected her to master some theories or understand some principles in this position, but she had not yet grasped it.

"Don't let your original starting point limit your progress." Fujimaru Ritsuka persuaded again. This time she seemed more enthusiastic, and her attitude made the overall atmosphere less serious. "When you have the opportunity, take a step forward in time. Maybe you can discover your new potential."

Irene couldn't tell whether the other party really had expectations, was just being polite, or was just acting on impulse. She smiled politely, decided not to take it too seriously, and brought up another topic as a conclusion to the conversation:

"Thank you very much for meeting me, Master Fujimaru." She saluted awkwardly in the posture she had learned in the emergency training course. "It is a great pleasure to talk to you. It also makes me believe that the terrible rumors about you are all nonsense."

In this brief contact, Irene was already convinced that Fujimaru Ritsuka was not the "mentally abnormal woman" described in those groundless legends. She thought she could safely bring up this topic, and thought that the other party might laugh at these rumors, or get angry, or ask her what the rumors were outside - but she didn't expect that the other party showed a thoughtful expression.

"You can't say it's all nonsense," Fujimaru Ritsuka commented seriously. "Rumors based on hearsay also have a base point. It's just like there is no such thing as an absolutely objective truth. In the process of spreading what they think is the truth, everyone adds a little bit of 'subjective color'."

"Rumors can be devastating. Rumors that are contrary to the facts can cause endless harm once they are widely spread." Salieri, who had been silent for a long time, suddenly interrupted and said, "Master, perhaps you should devote your energy to managing this issue."

Fujimaru Ritsuka was not annoyed, but just shrugged nonchalantly: "But the 'most' people in the empire always have someone to fear and resent. I happen to be a suitable target, so why not?"

No one understood what she meant by this, but her attitude of not caring about it was clear. Irene didn't think too much about whether she was qualified to speak on this issue, and instinctively said, "There are even rumors that you eat a child every day."

“Wow.” Fujimaru Ritsuka showed a little fake surprise—as if she knew this very well and deliberately showed this emotion just for fun—“Wow!” she exclaimed, “This is really exaggerated and a bit outrageous.”

Irene was amused by her performance: "That's the truth. Who in their right mind would eat a child?"

"--I mean, the frequency of 'daily' is too ridiculous." Fujimaru Ritsuka corrected him sternly, "If that were the case, the Imperial Population Growth Committee would have come to trouble me a long time ago."

"...?"

Irene was stunned by the implication in this sentence. It was not until three seconds later, when Fujimaru Ritsuka laughed, that she realized: there was some kind of genetic inheritance relationship between the Primarchs and their legionnaires, and this rumor might be true.

——Captain Sevitarion, who loves to scare people, obviously has a clear inheritance relationship with Ritsuka Fujimaru in this bad part of his character.

She did not think about why the other Space Marine and Salieri who were present at the time did not laugh. At that moment, Irene had already chosen a "truth" that belonged to her. She did not consider whether this "truth" was truly "objective" and whether it could be consistent with the cognition of other people.

* Guda Eats Children: The alien child brains that were eaten during the battle. Because it was an alien that I didn't have time to learn too much about, I realized it was a child after eating it. In theory, it's true, but it's not the same as normal understanding...

In fact, as long as you understand it from the right angle, the rumors about Guda are all true (that expression).

*Guda is mentally ill: How can anyone be mentally ill after saving people? It is better to say that from the Emperor to the Primarch, there is basically no mentally ill person. The most normal Luo Bao was also forced to be abnormal by 40K. I said (hey).

* Guda was sidelined: She was lazy. After the army was on track, the entire organization operated autonomously for more than 70% of the time. She was responsible for the peaceful life and beautiful appearance, and it seemed that she was sidelined (actually, it cannot be said that she was not sidelined at all, at least she often failed to notice when the tattooed man was doing something tricky).

(End of this chapter)

Chapter 185 Don't Panic

The course of fate changed again.

The Lord of Change in the Crystal Palace was laughing wildly because of this. His laughter was wanton and crazy, tearing the surrounding space without any scruples, even though this was his own domain, his own palace. He had been doing this for a long time: time in the warp was always difficult to measure, but this domain had been recast nine times in the Lord's wild laughter, and Tzeentch was obviously still not ready to stop.

Although Tzeentch could not see through every possible future in the universe - He was the Lord of Change, always chasing unpredictable changes, and "omniscience" meant "every change could be predicted", which was contrary to His nature. And now, the direction of fate was changing frequently without His control, prediction, or interference.

The introduction of a few minor variables made the future of the entire universe unclear. The future has always been fickle, but to this extent, for this Chaos Mighty, it was literally "the first time since the beginning of the universe." Not far from him, Carlos's two heads looked listless, and his feathers, which were not very bright to begin with, became grayer than ever before. Obviously, he had overdrawn his strength by trying many times in a short period of time at the request of his master to peek into the "future" that even his eyes could not reach.

The Lord of Changes did not care about these little things. He just continued to use his supreme magic to select the fragments he needed from the disorderly future in the subspace, and to infer the issues he wanted to know at the moment, trying to find an opportunity for him to intervene and guide the fate of a grain of dust in the real universe to the direction he wanted to see. This was difficult, there was another existence that was constantly hindering him, and it might take a long time to decide the outcome with the other party, but it didn't matter, the Lord of Changes had no shortage of time.

Everything is connected. He only needs to pluck the string in an inconspicuous place. As time goes by, this subtle vibration will be transmitted along the trajectory of fate, constantly flowing between objects, people, and events, accumulating energy as it moves, until it finally sets off a magnificent wave.

But when will this wave finally hit the shore? Even Tzeentch, who planned all this, couldn't tell. How can a mere mortal avoid such a disaster that originated from a place where no existence is aware of it?

The crazy laughter in the Crystal Palace has not stopped, but the Lord of Change has made his decision.

He had to meet his other brothers, and he couldn't wait: if there was one more chess player beside the chessboard, it would be the best thing for them.

-

The believers serving the God of War walked slowly in the sea of ​​blood.

His name was not important, his appearance was not important, his past was not important, and his achievements were not important. He was just a wounded mortal, walking slowly in a battlefield piled with the bodies of the dead and the blood flowing from the bodies, and he was the only living person among them.

He was therefore allowed to advance in this decadent, miserable, and unremarkable way: all the enemies around him had fallen, and the bloody souls of the cowards and losers had drifted into the warp, becoming him - the only survivor here, and therefore the only winner, a living sacrifice to the god of war.

But the person involved was unaware of this.

It doesn't matter whether his victory was honorable, fair, or not. What matters is that he is the only one who can still breathe. This should be enough to prove his status as a winner, but because he is a worshiper of the God of War, he is still trembling with fear and dare not enjoy the rest after the victory: How will my Lord view this victory? I have never faced any strong enemy head-on, but just barely survived on the battlefield, and finally became the last survivor who was lucky enough to survive - will my Lord recognize this as a victory?

He didn't know how to read, and he couldn't possibly have any intellectual attainments. He worshipped the Lord of Blood and the Lord of Skulls only because of the environment: his tribe believed in this Chaos Power, and he had lived among these people since he was a child, so he naturally became a believer. In panic, he wanted to ask the wizard in the tribe about this question, even if it would make him get hit on the head with two sticks. But then, he found the person he was looking for among the piles of corpses: holding an iron sword with an obsidian inlaid on the hilt and a broken blade, with a hideous face and bloodshot eyes, lying on his back on the ground, and the body from the waist down was missing.

There was no doubt that the wizard was dead.

The civilization here is not very advanced. Under the glory of the God of War, the creatures living on this planet have invested all the resources they can find into an endless and meaningless war, and humans are no exception. This is a common thing on a planet that has sunk into the warp. The only survivor on the battlefield has not received any education other than using weapons and fighting - he is still very young, so he has no idea what to do for a while, and is therefore at a loss.

He stood stupidly in front of the wizard's body for a while before realizing that this was not a solution. He needed to do something to calm his uneasy heart so that he could enjoy the happiness of surviving the disaster with peace of mind. After thinking for a while, he chose to take the half-broken iron sword from the long-dead wizard and began to try to find a way out:

A newborn calf is not afraid of a tiger, and ignorance is bliss, or some similar motto could be applied here. In short, this young lucky man, who had not received any proper education, decided to hold a sacrifice to the gods he and his tribe served, and directly ask the gods themselves whether such a "victory" could be recognized.

Of course, he himself didn't know how to accomplish something like this, or what price he would have to pay to accomplish something like this. He just remembered that he had seen the wizards in the tribe do something similar, and decided to copy it based on the vague impression in his memory. He once again patrolled the battlefield with a purpose, carrying the broken iron sword. This time, he wanted to collect the heads of those warriors.

The warriors in the tribe always wore more ornaments on their bodies and heads, which was also the goal he had been striving for. He once worried whether he could please his god by offering the heads of people he had not killed himself, but when he began to try to cut off the heads of these people with the broken sword, this thought disappeared from his heart without a trace: there was no other reason, but "cutting off other people's heads" was much more difficult than he had imagined.

He knew that the god he served had a sacred number of eight, but he had just barely survived a fierce battle and did not have that much energy to expend. He only cut off the heads of four warriors, and the workload had already made him breathless. For a believer, this was very unqualified. At this moment, boredom took over because of excessive fatigue. The only survivor of this war thought to himself: So be it. And decided to use only these four heads as sacrifices for the ceremony to fulfill his wish.

He shouldn't have been able to do it. The holy number was wrong, the sacrifice was wrong, the altar was wrong, the prayer was wrong, and the person praying was wrong. This sacrificial ceremony was wrong from beginning to end, and it should have attracted nothing - even if someone would pay attention to him, in the end he would only get the wrath of Khorne. But when he piled his only four heads into a tower on the small temporary earth platform, and knelt down in front of this simple altar, ready to pray, words that did not originally exist in his mind came out of his mouth smoothly:

"I beg the great god of war to look upon you. You are the lord of all warriors in heaven and earth, the patron saint of honor and justice, the enemy of all directions (Necoc Yaotl), the servant of us (Titlacauan), the symbol of night and wind..."

He muttered mechanically and empty, picked up the broken sword inlaid with obsidian with lifeless eyes, and under the empty gazes of four heads, with a skill that he could not have and could not display here, he used the broken sword as a dagger and stabbed it into his chest, then cut out his heart in the gushing blood.

——Something did respond to him, something controlled him, something came here in a non-material form, hovering above the mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

The dust settled on the battlefield, and dark clouds gathered, as if a heavy rain would fall at any moment. As if attracted by some invisible force, the bones, flesh, and blood here slowly floated up from the ground, and rolled like a whirlpool under the shadow, being unreasonably compressed to a point, and then, a man's figure slowly descended from it.

"How interesting." Tezcatlipoca, once again possessing a humanoid form that allowed him to walk through the material universe, sneered and complained, "What on earth did that blue-haired mollusk take that it chose to help me?"

Gray smoke was bubbling around him, and the naked man was walking towards the "altar" leisurely. He was wearing appropriate clothes at some point, and he had a cigarette between his fingers. He smoked and walked to the "sacrifice" who was summoned here by the ritual of Tzeentch.

The "winner" who survived the war to the end was a boy who looked less than fifteen years old, but now that things had come to this, there was no point in saying anything. The boy just knelt in the same place, lowered his head, and held his heart high with his hands. The corpse was silent, but the attitude was like an offering.

Tezcatlipoca sneered, took the heart that the boy had unwillingly given to him in his ignorance, and stuffed it back into the boy's chest.

"What the hell?" He complained, and left the planet with smoke.

Miu (no more)

Guda will be offline for a long time, send!

(End of this chapter)

Chapter 186 Bring a towel

It has to be said that the environment on Medusa is quite...uninhabitable.

At least this is the case for people like Debbit Zem Woyd, who should be classified as "ancient humans" based on their physical physiology and genetic structure alone.

He "wrapped" himself in a piece of fur from a local creature to keep warm - to be more precise, he used the fur to build a small tent around himself, because both the skin and the fur were so hard that it was almost impossible to make them fit the contours of a person.

It is hard to imagine that under the technological conditions on the Iron Hands' home planet, humans still have to rely on such primitive means to maintain their body temperature. However, this is the Iron Hands' home planet after all. In a sense, the law of the jungle and survival of the fittest are the only principles here. For a "very rude outsider" like Debbit, "If you want to go out, you need to consider how to keep warm yourself" is not even a warning.

In fact, from the root, this was a misunderstanding that was a blessing in disguise. Ferrus Manus and the members of the Claw of Destruction had no intention of treating him so badly. Even if only for his ability to observe the cosmic environment in real time, Debbie should at least enjoy the treatment of the highest level navigator.

The problem is that after returning to the home planet, the Iron Hands Chapter was in chaos because of the return of the Gene-Father, and neither the Primarch nor the Astartes could spare the time to take care of these details. If it were someone else, they would probably try to discuss with others, submit applications to their superiors, try to trade or borrow with other mortals in the team, or stay where they are, etc., to prepare the materials needed for their actions - but here is Debit, who puts efficiency first, and he will only choose the "most efficient" way to deal with it:

He went out alone, and in the near-freezing temperature environment near Medusa Airport, he randomly killed a hapless beast passing by, then skinned it, processed it simply, and added magic to it. He used it to keep warm and wandered around the entire planet exploring the earth veins until now.

At the beginning, he even wanted to build his own means of transportation out of industrial waste. If Adjutant Fish hadn't suddenly remembered that there was such a person and looked back when he had built half of the chassis, Debbie might have really relied on the little skills and magic he learned on the Claw of Destruction to build a three-no car with questionable reliability and use it to travel around the surface environment of Medusa.

Anyway, now, Debit relies on the vehicles provided by the Iron Hands Chapter to move long distances on the ground - thanks to the friendly sponsorship of Adjutant Fish. But the latter did not provide Debit with more warm equipment, and Debit had no objection to this: he felt that this fur with questionable comfort was indeed enough.

Adjutant Fish's actions were not negligent: a founding group certainly wouldn't be so poor as to not even have a few coats for mortals, but for the people on Medusa, there was a clear difference between wearing clothes that were obviously "gifted by others" and clothes that were obviously "hunted by oneself." Debbie himself might not have noticed it, but when he talked to the locals while wearing this not-so-useful fur, the latter would often have more sincerity in their answers.

Debit's limited memory capacity every day made him unable to pay attention to these trivial matters. Just like now, standing at the foot of the Holy Mountain of Karash, he actually didn't care about the members of the Iron Hand Karagu Clan who were eyeing him covetously. He just used magic to operate the drone familiar he had modified in advance with the sensors retired by the members of the Destruction Claw. While observing the trend of the underground spirit veins from the perspective of a magician, he stared at the three-dimensional image of the Holy Mountain recorded by the sensor on the data board in his hand.

"It's a bit misaligned." He finally came to this conclusion. "There must have been many geological changes here. At present, the intersection of the spiritual veins under the mountain and the place where Ferrus Manus's amniotic fluid chamber landed ten thousand years ago have shifted. The risk of performing the ceremony here is still high."

"But there is no better place." Enkidu beside him said, "The spiritual vein in the Eye of Medusa is strong enough, but the 'fate' between that place and Ferrus himself is mostly formed by the worship of later generations. Even in our universe, the distortion caused by the collective subconscious of mankind has created many 'innocent monsters', not to mention that in this universe, 'faith' itself is a power that can almost transcend everything."

The implication was clear: if the ceremony they were planning to "reunite the dead Primarch with his remains when he was alive" was held amid such intense prayers, there would be additional risks - when the ceremony was over, would it be Ferrus Manus himself who would walk out, or another "Ferrus Manus" who had existed in the imagination of the Iron Hands Chapter members for ten thousand years?

"That question is unanswerable," Debito retorted, clearly understanding the other party's meaning. "On this planet, the name Ferrus Manus has long been deified by countless people. Even this mountain, which symbolizes his 'birth', only has a strong connection with him in terms of cause and effect, which can relatively better help him maintain his self-awareness."

The God-era thought criminal once again made a shocking statement: "Like I said at the beginning, the best solution I recommend is on Istvan V."

"The risk is too high. Rejected." Debit said expressionlessly. "The two universes have different rules of operation. He was able to return to the real universe only after he defeated the concept that symbolized his own death. For this universe, holding a ceremony at the place where he died on Istvan V will most likely just push him back into death."

"We are both designed and manufactured weapons, so I understand that he is definitely not that fragile." Enkidu shrugged, "We are the same kind. I can see that he is always looking for challenges."

"That's not the problem. I told you, the risk is too high." The data had been collected. Debbie stopped looking at the data board in his hand and put all his exposed limbs back into his fur cloak. He looked up and waited for the drone familiar to fly back under control. "If this was just his problem, I don't think he would refuse it. But just like Fujimaru, he still has his unfinished responsibilities. He can't die before he completes them."

When it came to Fujimaru Ritsuka, Enkidu let go of the topic with a hint of regret: "That's really a pity."

Before the Lion's Mane and the Claw of Destruction parted ways due to the Emperor's Star Language, Fujimaru Ritsuka had already transferred the contractual relationship with Enkidu to Debit with the consent of all parties. Although the latter was not recognized by human reason and it was difficult for him to summon Heroic Spirits by his own power in the original world, his qualifications as a magician and a Master were still real. After Enkidu himself expressed no objection, the transfer of the contract went smoothly. After that, the protection of the Servant's spiritual base was undertaken by Debit regularly using the Emperor's amulet made for him by the State Religion Foundation after communicating with Fujimaru Ritsuka.

——Even in his original universe, the "baptism chant" used by the Holy Church is essentially just a kind of magic based on "faith". Whether it can exercise its power has nothing to do with whether the faith is firm, but is linked to the magic qualification. After changing to another universe, this part of the truth is also fortunately the same: perhaps the emperor does not care about this little thing, or Fujimaru Ritsuka has given him the green light in front of the emperor. At least as a qualified magician, Debit has not made any mistakes in this "little thing" of making amulets using this powerful foundation.

"But you're right. I also think that holding the ceremony on this planet may not be the best solution." The drone returned to Debit's side. He reluctantly stretched out his hand from his fur cloak and grabbed the small machine that had shut down its power source. "Why don't we go back and ask Ferrus Manus himself if he has any other clues about his 'Land of Destiny'."

Meow (six o'clock)

(End of this chapter)

Chapter 187 Sit tight and hold on

It stands to reason that when Debit returned to the Iron Hands Fortress-Monastery, Ferrus Manus was probably too busy to see him: the Primarch was angry with his offspring ten thousand years later.

It's not that he was yelling or breaking anything. After more than ten thousand years of experience in the Webway War, Ferrus Manus's ability to control his emotions has improved qualitatively - that is, he finally knows how to prevent his anger from showing on his face when he is angry.

But at his core, Ferrus had only learned how to control his anger. He would still be angry when he should be angry. This anger burned forever and ever in his essence, something that was destined to be engraved in the depths of his soul before he was "born" from the Emperor's alchemical forge of life, something that could not and would not be changed.

That is to say, when he was really angry, the few supernatural visions that were triggered unconsciously could not be hidden.

The more ordinary members of the warband could not sense these subtle differences, but since Ferrus Manus returned to this planet, the Iron Think Tanks stationed in the fortress have obviously become more cautious in their actions. As a visitor from another world, Debit, like Fujimaru Ritsuka, has no talent in psychic power, but as a better magician, he can make judgments by interpreting the subtle vibrations of the surrounding ether.

To him, the signs that Ferrus Manus was "angry" were obvious enough that he could sense them across half of the monastery's main building.

In the distant universe, the current Lord of Medusa might indeed be a space shell that Fujimaru Ritsuka could defeat with a sofa cushion - but on this planet, things are very different. To put it in a way that Debit is more familiar with, this is because Ferrus Manus has gained the double bonus of being native and well-known on his home planet; and for the Iron Librarians, it is easier to understand that the reverence for Ferrus Manus by the warbands and people living on this planet for tens of thousands of years has deeply penetrated into the land, and it is these beliefs that fill the Primarch's current "fragile" spiritual foundation, allowing him to drag most of his essence into reality.

In short, if it is limited to the planet Medusa, or in other words, the Steneros system where Medusa is located, even the current Ferrus can exert a power comparable to that of a Primarch when he was alive. But unfortunately, the territory of the Empire is very large, and the war that needs to be ended cannot be limited to this corner of the Nebulous Sector. Ferrus will inevitably have to leave this system in the future and go to other regions of the universe to solve various problems. This unresolved problem cannot be regarded as solved.

Debbie thought for a while and decided to move forward because he thought it would be more efficient to do so.

If it was Fujimaru Ritsuka who was here, she would definitely be able to do this more smoothly in a few communications. But unfortunately, it was Debit who was here, and he only knew how to do things in this rigid way: he tucked the data pad under his arm, and walked into the corridor that was so lively and even a little abnormal, almost crowded with various colors of power armor from the Iron Hands and its successor groups, and did not shy away from getting into the middle of groups of Astartes, using various means, whether obvious or covert, physical or magical, to try to move forward, and finally, after attracting the attention of Ferrus himself, he was called to the front of the Primarch himself under the angry eyes of the other Astartes.

"What's the matter?" Ferus asked directly with a frown on his face. I don't know if it was an illusion, but the wrinkles between his eyebrows seemed to have deepened in the short period of half a month.

It took Ferrus ten days and a lot of energy to explain his "resurrection" to all his descendants who stayed in the base. He knew that he shouldn't blame these soldiers who lived ten thousand years later, but for him, anger was not something that he could not avoid after he made a subjective decision. It was really exhausting to control himself from punching those descendants who were too stubborn. Strangely enough, Ferrus even missed the days when he couldn't beat the sofa cushions - at least at that time, when he was so angry that he wanted to raise his hand to hit someone, he could do it with all his strength.

Then, there are the questions of how to get the remaining remains of himself out of the tightly grasped hands of his offspring, whether to replace the current commander of the chapter, how to deal with the wars that the Iron Hands are facing, how to treat the various sub-companions that came after hearing the news, etc. If the ether shell made by Fujimaru Ritsuka can be more sensitive in the part of "appearance is determined by the heart", maybe in this half month, Ferrus will be annoyed by all the trivial matters mentioned above and become old.

Strangely enough, the little time he spent talking to Debit, in the context of other problems, actually became an opportunity for Ferrus to "breathe a sigh of relief". At least this maverick crew member of the Destruction Claw would not bring him the kind of news that would upset him.

"The situation is not good." Debbie said bluntly as usual. "To make a long story short, I doubt that there is a very suitable ceremony site on Medusa. Every inch of land here is soaked with too much 'belief' in you. There is no guarantee that 'you' will still be 'you' after the ceremony."

This sentence sounds very annoying just from the literal meaning, but for Ferrus who has already understood most of the common concepts in magic, he completely understands what Debit wants to express: "So, you start to think, is there any suitable place outside this planet?"

"The most suitable place, I think, is Earth." Debito used the ancient names he was more accustomed to for all the proper nouns without any concern. "The laboratory under the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, or the place where the celebration was held when you first returned to Earth - one is a symbol that you were truly 'born' in this universe, and the other is a symbol that you are known to the Empire as the Tenth Primarch Ferrus Manus. These two places are of sufficient importance to you, and the faith that is imbued in the land of Earth must be clearly directed to the Emperor."

"It's too far. I can't leave." Ferrus refused directly. "When I really returned to the Misty Star Region, I realized that there were still so many unresolved wars waiting for me to deal with. Besides, if I really took my own skull away from this planet, the hell priests who were responsible for taking care of it before would probably commit suicide immediately."

"Then I recommend the 'Land of Shadows', near the lava lake where you obtained the 'Iron Hand'." Debbie proposed the second option without any hesitation. "If you don't consider the issue of 'faith', it's actually the 'least suitable' place. But as a legendary gathering place for dead souls, the negative information in the leylines may help you maintain your self-esteem."

"'Maybe.'" Ferrus repeated the word. "What's the actual probability?"

"It's hard to say. Even if Enkidu personally collected data on that area, the information is still vague. And in the end, the only thing that can fundamentally determine the success or failure of this matter is your own will." Debit replied, "Many things in magic are like this. Either they succeed completely or they fail completely."

He obviously skipped a section of the discussion, but Ferrus was also aware of the consequences of failure: "A reasonable idea is that we should obtain the energy supply department first, and then implant it into the spiritual base together with the anchor department. This way, only one ceremony is required, which can avoid risks to a certain extent."

"I don't recommend this, but you are the one who makes the final decision," Debbie said. "You are fully aware of the risks involved: although the rituals used are roughly the same, the incorporation of the anchor and the energy supply should be two very different spiritual operations. What you are doing is almost the same as performing an open-chest implant surgery on yourself with your bare hands."

Ferrus thought for a few seconds, and calculated the success rate during this period of time. After a period of time that was as long as several centuries for the Primarch, he had to sigh heavily and frustratedly: "You are right."

He paused again. "But perhaps I should first retrieve the equipment I was going to use as the Energy Department. It's not too far from here, but it's locked up in a Mimir vault. I think it would be best if I could unlock the defenses on that planet myself and retrieve it."