Chapter 114: Charge Forward! Cloyas Raingal

Hundreds of massive transport aircraft tore through the atmosphere, their hulls glowing with friction like a shower of falling meteors.

"Entering the planetary atmosphere. Attention all craft, maintain safe distance. We expect to reach our destination in twenty minutes. Upon arrival, all transports are to deploy the Astartes and depart immediately—do not linger."

Inside the transport carrying Wang Ming, he issued the order via the communication terminal.

"Acknowledged!"

The mortal pilots of the fleet responded. This transport mission was exceptionally perilous. According to Wang Ming’s calculations, if Mortarion was indeed present, the skies over the target area would be teeming with Plague Drones. To ensure the safety of the transports, the Transmigrators would jump directly from the aircraft upon arrival, allowing the transports to flee at maximum speed. Each Transmigrator was equipped with a jump pack to ensure a safe landing and rapid transition into combat.

At the summit of the fortress, Mortarion stood beside Li Yongkang, gazing up at the sky where massive swarms of Plague Drones drifted like emerald clouds.

"Must you insist on this appearance?" Mortarion suddenly asked. He looked at Li Yongkang’s human form, finding it increasingly unsettling. Why would a creature as twisted and demonic as him cling to the guise of a human?

"I need to remind myself that I am still human," Li Yongkang replied, glancing up at Mortarion.

"Hypocritical," Mortarion scoffed. "Your true form has nothing to do with the human species, yet you cling to this facade." He found it ridiculous that such a wretched, corrupted thing would persist in the delusion of humanity.

"Damn you! Do not speak of my true form! That is the curse placed upon me by that disgusting wretch, Nurgle!" Li Yongkang flared with sudden agitation. He stood up, locking eyes with Mortarion, and as he grew agitated, it seemed as if countless grotesque things were writhing beneath his skin.

"Hehehe..." Mortarion did not react to the outburst, merely staring at the undulating skin with a mocking smirk.

"Forget it. It will only be a little longer now." Hearing the mockery, Li Yongkang forced his emotions down, sat back down, and returned his gaze to the sky, waiting for that man to arrive.

The transport fleet reached its coordinates, and Wang Ming observed the circling Plague Drones through the cameras. He ordered the Transmigrators to jump immediately and proceed to the fortress on foot; the transports could not be risked, as they had further duties to fulfill.

The cargo bay doors swung open, and the Transmigrators leaped into the void, plummeting toward the ground.

"Uh, great Primarch, sir, I don't think I can handle an air drop. Could I just head back with the transports?" Clovis Rengar asked Wang Ming, looking down at the ground.

Wang Ming didn't answer. He simply kicked Clovis out of the transport, then leaped out alongside Edvi. Wang Ming did not wear a jump pack, relying on the immense resilience of his Primarch physique to land on his feet. Upon landing, he immediately saw Clovis Rengar, whose bones were shattered but already rapidly knitting back together.

"Could you have given me a warning? I didn't even deploy my gravity chute," Clovis complained as he stood up, snapping his fractured arm back into place and walking over to Wang Ming.

"You can't die anyway," Wang Ming replied dismissively. He knew the man was a Perpetual; he could be used as a blunt instrument without consequence.

By the time Wang Ming finished speaking, all the Transmigrators had landed. Hu Jin and the others gathered around him.

"Let’s move. Prepare for combat."

Hu Jin nodded, drawing his phase blade and demonic longsword. The other Transmigrators followed suit, and Wang Ming drew his massive golden blade. Activating his power, the sword was instantly wreathed in golden flames. Wang Ming pointed the blade toward the fortress, and the Transmigrators surged forward.

"Boss, I know you’re trying to channel the Emperor, but take a tip from me: next time, drape a cloak over yourself or something. You’re missing the vibe," Hu Jin quipped as he walked beside him. Wang Ming’s gesture had clearly been an attempt at a grand imperial display, but it lacked the necessary flair.

The Transmigrators moved with incredible speed, reaching the Nurgle demonic host and the plague-ridden corpses before the fortress in less than five minutes. Wang Ming charged into the fray, his flaming blade cutting through the ranks. The golden fire acted like a spark in alcohol, spreading rapidly through the Nurgle demons, incinerating them. Once reduced to ash by the holy flames, these Warp entities were truly dead, with no hope of resurrection.

"Finally!" Li Yongkang watched the golden flames spreading through the host and leaped from the top of the fortress. He dove into the fire with manic excitement, the flames instantly engulfing his form.

"Pain! Hahaha! Such pain! I can finally feel it!" Li Yongkang roared with laughter, savoring the agony of the golden flames searing his flesh. It had been so long; although it was only pain, it was enough to exhilarate him.

The fire burned away his disguise, revealing his true, distorted form: a rotting monstrosity covered in writhing maggots, with internal organs spilling from festering holes, and hideous tentacles thrashing in the golden light. While the fire could make him feel pain, it could not kill him—only Wang Ming could grant him the true embrace of death.

Atop the fortress, Mortarion watched the ecstatic Li Yongkang, fiddling with a vial of virus specifically prepared by Nurgle for a "Perpetual" physique like Wang Ming’s. Seeing Li Yongkang charge toward Wang Ming, Mortarion spread his wings and dove into the fray as well.

Wang Ming and his men were busy carving through the demonic horde when they were hit by a stench so monumental it defied description—like a pair of underwear that had been worn for 40,000 years, then boiled for another 40,000 in the Grandfather’s cauldron of disease.

The respirators in their helmets failed instantly. Wang Ming and the Transmigrators relied on their sheer physiology to endure it, but Edvi and Clovis Rengar collapsed, convulsing on the ground, overwhelmed by the miasma.

"What the hell? Mortarion? Wait, what’s that other thing? A Great Unclean One? Why does it look so... odd?" Wang Ming hoisted Edvi and Clovis up by their collars, passing a wave of golden flame over them. They snapped back to consciousness—one of Wang Ming’s abilities, the psychic fire of humanity, serving to sustain life.

"Damn, that is foul," they gasped, their senses still reeling from the lingering stench.

"Clovis Rengar, hurry up! Aren't you an Inquisitorial Daemonhunter? Get to it!" Wang Ming shouted. Clovis, however, was still in a state of bewilderment.

"Screw it! I choose you, Clovis Rengar! Hold off Mortarion!"

Wang Ming hurled Clovis toward the Death Lord, needing someone to buy him time to deal with the suspected Greater Daemon. He coated Clovis in a layer of golden flame, turning him into a golden meteor aimed directly at Mortarion.

"Who am I? Where am I? Why am I flying? And what is that thing with the giant wings? Wait... giant wings?" Clovis regained his senses mid-flight, spotting Mortarion ahead and recalling Wang Ming’s order.

"Oh, hell, Wang Ming! I *%@$*—I thank you so much, you bastard!" He watched in horror as he collided with Mortarion.

The impact ignited the golden flames on Mortarion’s armor, causing the Primarch immense pain. Mortarion caught Clovis in his massive hand, crushing him into a lump of meat before tossing him onto the ground like garbage.

No sooner had Mortarion turned to aid Li Yongkang than a loyalist plasma bolt struck him from behind.

"What?" Mortarion spun around. Clovis Rengar stood there, completely unscathed, holding a plasma pistol and a bolter that had appeared from nowhere. A bolt struck Mortarion square in the face—not lethal, but deeply insulting.

Mortarion, Daemon Primarch of Nurgle, had been wounded by a "mortal"! He was livid, and baffled—Clovis was practically naked, wearing only a few scraps of metal, so where had the weapons come from?

"Whew... thank goodness I looted some Necron tech back in my youth, or heaven knows what I’d be using to fight this thing," Clovis muttered, exhaling. During the Great Crusade, he had made a habit of raiding Necron tomb worlds and ancient human ruins. He had stored his gear in a stolen Necron pocket-dimension device, which he had surgically embedded into his own body to prevent loss. The only side effect was that the implant site glowed green, which he considered a perfect trade-off.

"Just need to hold out until Wang Ming kills that Greater Daemon," Clovis thought, raising his weapons again.

Mortarion didn't even dodge; he took the plasma and bolter fire to the face and charged. He vowed to catch this "mortal" and subject him to a thousand different plagues until he begged for the end.