Chapter 808 Someone Likes You Very Much

After the banquet, Warmaster Reese was beaming with joy for the victory of the sand table simulation. Although the general of the Mordian Iron Guard had no expression on his face, his knuckles without gloves had turned white due to excessive force.

Creed remembered Sergeant Aurora's standard for being full - 20 slices of meat.

If he ate 5 slices of meat, he would probably have to go to the medical room and lie down for a while.

The servo and servo skull cleaned up the food on the table. They would put the food residue into the circulation device. In a few days, a batch of steaming nutrition bars would be distributed to the soldiers and crew.

Creed was ready to return to his office to continue the unfinished work.

Something was wrong.

Nine out of ten was wrong.

He had walked 35 steps, but the corner was still two steps away from him.

Creed stopped. Even if his pace and frequency were affected by the meal, there would not be such a big deviation.

Although Creed's suspicion seems a bit ridiculous in the eyes of others, Creed's actions have withstood the test of war.

In the countless wars against aliens and traitors, there are wizards who are good at weaving illusions. And Creed's carefulness and subtlety help him see through illusions again and again.

Creed, who stopped, knew that Adjutant Kyle following behind him might not be a real person. He silently prayed for Adjutant Kyle and prepared to make his last struggle.

Shatter the illusion and then spread the news that the warship was infiltrated by psychics. This is Creed's only idea.

Creed pulled out a monomolecular dagger from the inside of his coat and removed the energy clip of the laser pistol on his waist.

The dagger pierced the shell of the clip, and Creed felt the energy clip in his hand quickly heated up. A sudden explosion of high temperature can disrupt the ritual of weaving illusions. This is a valuable experience that Creed has practiced.

The energy clip is about to explode, Creed threw it out violently, and turned around to slash at Adjutant Kyle.

As he thought, Adjutant Kyle was just an illusion, and disappeared like a bubble the moment he was hit by the dagger.

Creed fell back and wrapped his whole body with his coat. The overload explosion of the energy magazine was no joke. Creed needed to prevent the burning damage caused by the high temperature. No one wanted to be injured before officially fighting the enemy.

One second, two seconds.

The explosion did not appear, but instead a strong and clear voice resounded in Creed's mind.

"Creed, you are indeed unusual."

This is psychic communication, Creed quickly judged this. However, the psychic communication he had heard was not as clear as this voice. The language transmitted by the Imperial Psychic was more like playing music on glass with fingernails, which was unpleasant and harsh. People would never want to hear it again after hearing it once.

Creed's eyes blurred, and the slightly flawed corridor disappeared. He found himself in a wide and dark warehouse.

The tall Space Marine stood in front of Creed, with a slight recognition of Creed's reaction on his face.

Creed carefully identified the Space Marine's paint and accessories, then he took a deep breath, his pupils dilated in shock.

Space Wolves, White Scars, Raven Guard.

Three Space Marines from the original regiments were standing in this unknown warehouse, all staring at Creed, and this pressure almost made Creed kneel down.

Wodehouse noticed Creed's emotional changes, and he relied on psychic power to soothe Creed's spirit.

"Calm down." Wodehouse said.

Creed immediately felt that his whole body was as cold as ice. He hugged his coat tightly and found a piece of ice on the ground that sealed the energy clip.

"Your emergency treatment of illusions is perfect, but unfortunately it is only suitable for those weak psychics. If you meet a psychic master like Wodehouse, you would have been crushed into a meat pie long ago." Kaiser White Fang said with a smile, holding Creed's back.

Should I feel lucky? Creed tried to hold back the coldness in his bones so that he could speak more clearly.

Creed said tremblingly, "Sir. What are you doing?"

Wodehouse replied, "I just want to ask you something. Do you know the Volskani Cavalry?"

"Yes, sir." Creed replied with difficulty. He didn't understand why the Space Marine asked this question.

"Very good, the Volskani Cavalry is a traitor."

Creed's eyes widened in shock.

The Volskani Cavalry is a unit of the Imperial Guard. They are tough and tenacious warriors in the Cadia Sector. This legion has existed for hundreds of years, and they have obtained hundreds of glorious flags.

Such a glorious army was called a traitor, and Creed's first reaction was to loudly accuse Wodehouse of talking nonsense.

Wodehouse did not punish Creed for his overreaction, but just used Fenris's frost to keep him calm.

The shivering Creed was given a sip of strong wine by Cather White Fang to recuperate his body. He felt the fire surging in his stomach and constantly dispelling the biting cold.

Realizing that he had spoken too harshly, Creed apologized to Wodehouse and then asked Wodehouse how he knew that the Volskane Iron Cavalry was going to rebel.

In fact, Wodehouse was also quite shocked by the rebellion of the Volskani Cavalry. He knew this purely because Lin Fan told him some details of the 13th Black Crusade in advance.

"It's a warning from the Emperor." Wodehouse said solemnly, "We can't live up to his expectations. The Volskani Cavalry must be completely eliminated."

Creed was silent, and then he suddenly realized a problem.

Why did these Space Marines come to me? I am just a little admiral waiting for trial. How can I let the Space Marines talk to me face to face about such a dangerous issue?

Wodehouse felt Creed's doubts. They chose Creed because of Lin Fan. He always said that Creed was the last Lord of Cadia.

The last Lord. Wodehouse didn't dare to think about the information revealed here. He answered his question before Creed asked it.

"Because you are the one chosen by the Emperor!"

Creed suddenly felt that he was not communicating with a wise and elderly think tank, but with a political commissar candidate who had just graduated from Zhongsi College.

The one chosen by the Emperor. Creed has heard this too many times. Before every brutal charge, the commissar would roar this to the soldiers.

Do you deserve it?

Creed looked at Wodehouse with some doubt, and found that his eyes were full of recognition.

I don't know if you deserve it, but some people think you do.