Shadowsun remained silent, his eyes fixed on the screen, as if attracted by Angron's figure.

The Ethers also fell silent, seemingly thinking about Shadowsun's suggestion.

After a while, Yingyang finally broke the silence: "I think we should discuss the matter of joint vision." His voice was low and firm, revealing a determination.

"I agree..." an Ether said slowly, and the other Ethers nodded in agreement.

As Yingyang spoke, he looked towards the other side of the screen intentionally or unintentionally.

On the screen, Angron stood at the bow of the ship like a god of war, with the two linked axes of Blood Father and Blood Son crossed on his chest, emitting a terrifying aura.

His power armor looked particularly dazzling under the light of the stars, as if he was a god from mythology.

What is even more eye-catching is that what spread out behind him were not devil wings, but a pair of huge wings made of pure spiritual energy, one half of which was shining with golden light, like the wings of an angel, and the other half was covered in blood, revealing endless murderous intent.

At the same time, the Tau Empire's escort fleet was firing at him frantically.

Pulse cannons, ion torpedoes, railgun shells, all kinds of powerful weapons rained down like raindrops, trying to destroy Angron in one fell swoop.

All attacks were swallowed up by an invisible force the moment they came into contact with the psychic wings, and were quickly annihilated into harmless light particles, as if these attacks had never existed.

Angron stood in the void, his tall figure like an unshakable mountain.

He slowly raised the Blood Father in his hand, and the huge axe blade flashed with cold light, as if it could cut through everything. His eyes were like torches, tightly locked on the nearest frigate.

The next moment, Angron leaped up without warning, swooping down on the frigate like a nimble falcon.

His movements were swift and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

Surprisingly, he did not use any thrusters or jump packs, relying entirely on his own powerful physical strength to speed through the vacuum of space like a meteor.

This method of advancing purely by relying on the physical body was simply inconceivable to all the members of the Titanium Empire present.

The close-in defense guns on the frigate responded quickly, launching a dense barrage of bullets in an attempt to prevent Angron from getting closer.

However, these shells were like toys in front of Angron and could not catch up with his speed.

In the blink of an eye, Angron appeared at the bow of the frigate like a ghost.

He swung the Blood Father in his hand with the force of thunder. The huge axe blade easily tore through the armor of the frigate, just like splitting a piece of rotten wood.

With a loud bang, the entire frigate split in the middle like a log hit by a giant axe.

Angron rushed into the core through the cracks. His figure shuttled through the interior of the frigate like lightning. Sparks flew and alarms rang out wherever he passed.

Just five seconds later, the frigate's engine suddenly made a deafening roar, and then exploded due to overload. The huge shock wave pushed the wreckage of the frigate towards the nearby cruiser, triggering a series of chain explosions.

In this thrilling explosion, Angron's figure leaped out again like a ghost.

His psychic wings fluttered slightly, and he swooped down on the next prey like an arrow.

........................

In the Webway

Dark Eldar raider "Painful Joy"

Lower deck

dark.

It was not ordinary darkness, but an absolute darkness that was deliberately modulated and swallowed up all light.

What flowed in the ventilation ducts was not air, but some kind of sticky, sweet and fishy anesthetic mist.

The metal surface of the deck is covered with a biofilm that absorbs all footsteps and vibrations.

This is Corax's hunting ground.

He huddled in the shadows of the cargo hold. His figure was no longer the outline of the noble Primarch, but something closer to a nightmare. His slender limbs were entangled in flowing shadows, his crow feather cloak blended with the darkness, and only the occasional flash of golden pupils proved that he still had his sanity.

The energies of the Warp hummed through his veins. Ten thousand years in the Eye of Terror had taught him how to weave shadows into weapons, how to make darkness an extended limb. Now, the shadows of the entire ship were his eyes and ears.

There were light footsteps on the deck above, the witches were patrolling. Their laughter was as sharp as broken glass, and their blades left poisonous green marks in the darkness.

Corax did not move, but gently exhaled a wisp of black mist. The mist spread along the cracks in the floor and condensed into an invisible tripwire under the feet of the witches.

"Plop!"

A witch spirit suddenly fell down, and when her companion turned around, she saw only a pool of evaporating black liquid on the ground.

"Are you playing this trick again?" Wu Ling licked the blade, "Come out, little monkey~"

The corners of Corax's mouth rose slightly.

They thought they were hunting.

But obviously, they were wrong.

They are the prey.

Time had no meaning aboard a Dark Eldar ship. Corax had been "asleep" for thirty-seven standard hours, or was it longer?

His body clock was warped by the warp, but to the hunter, waiting itself was a weapon.

His shadow sensed three important pieces of information. First, the ship was heading towards Comoros, and there were two short jumps.

Secondly, there are 30,000 human captives held in the cargo hold, who will be offered to the Haemolyuks.

The shadows trembled slightly at this last bit of information. Black matter oozed from Corax's fingertips, drawing a three-dimensional map of Comoros on the floor.

His goal was clear. It was not a simple massacre. This was the task given to him by the ruler named "Yang Cheng". He had to sneak into Comoros and prepare for the upcoming war.

Screams were heard from the seventh deck, and Corax's shadow perception captured an "entertainment".

That's the Dark Eldar torturing human captives with nerve agents.

Their technology is very sophisticated, it can amplify the pain a hundred times without being fatal. The cry of a young girl was particularly clear. She was probably only fourteen years old. The skin all over her body had been removed, and her eye sockets were transformed into frames to fix candles.

The Primarch's fingers tightened slightly.

The shadow responded to his emotion, and the temperature in the cargo hold dropped ten degrees.

A tank filled with liquid nitrogen suddenly exploded, and a tall silhouette emerged from the white mist? But it disappeared in an instant.

This was just an illusion he left for his captives, a promise that would soon be fulfilled.

"Hold on." A deep voice came from the mist. "Reinforcements are on the way."

The girl stopped crying, and her empty eye sockets seemed to see mist condense into the shape of a crow, then quickly dissipate.

In the darkness, crows are gathering.