110: The judge's hesitation; the paradox of law and decision!

Zhang Yuan's command, sounding like clashing steel, echoed in the cockpit of the banshee bomber.

"Eliminate the target!"

Ilaria's body tensed abruptly, and she looked at Zhang Yuan. A trace of struggle flickered in her ice-blue eyes.

Her duty was to uphold the order and laws of the Empire. Under no circumstances did a mortal Commander, even one possessing STC technology, have the right to sentence a Planetary Governor to death. This was a grave crime sufficient to trigger an Exterminatus by the Inquisition.

However, she had also witnessed with her own eyes the devastating blow that group had dealt to friendly forces at a critical moment.

Zhang Yuan did not look at her.

His gaze was locked firmly onto the holographic sand table. That gaudy and ridiculous golden iris emblem, representing the Planetary Governor, was fleeing in a panic.

Just as the pilots of the Banshee Squadron confirmed their lock and were about to press the missile launch button.

A change occurred.

The Planetary Governor's convoy of hover vehicles had gone completely mad.

Inside the vehicle, the Planetary Governor's fat face was twisted into a lump, pressed tightly against the bulletproof glass, his eyeballs bulging and bloodshot from extreme terror. The guards beside him were pulling their triggers, firing all the weapons on the vehicle wildly at the sky, the ground, and any direction that could give them a shred of comfort.

The uncontrolled laser beams cut wildly across the chaotic battlefield, and the warheads of heavy Bolters exploded on the ground in meaningless puffs of smoke.

This was not a battle; it was the embodiment of fear.

That fear, emanating from a dozen people, pure and devoid of any impurities, mixed with the cowardice of betrayal and the selfishness of survival, formed an invisible, pungent "scent of blood" on this battlefield saturated with psychic energy.

It was like a huge torch lit in the pitch-black midnight.

It was also like a drop of blood falling into boiling oil.

In an instant, it attracted the attention of all the chaos creatures within the manor.

Deep in the courtyard, those chaos beasts that were being suppressed by the thor mecha's artillery fire and retreating step by step, suddenly paused in their movements.

In the ruins of the streets, the succubi that had just crawled out of the shadows, preparing to pounce on the Space Marines' defensive line, also halted their seductive strides.

They all turned their heads in unison.

Countless eyes, flickering with evil, greedy, and bloodthirsty light, bypassed the two firing thor mecha, bypassed the iron-forged defensive line of the Space Marines, and stared precisely and fixedly at the convoy that was fleeing in a panic.

For these bloodthirsty creatures, the disciplined soldiers before them, radiating the cold breath of iron and death, were a tough nut to crack, a difficult battle.

But that convoy...

The pure fear emanating from within was a more enticing, more delicious dessert.

It was a supreme delicacy that could make their very souls tremble.

In the deepest part of Valentine Manor, upon that throne constructed of flesh and bone.

The Keeper of Secrets tilted its head, a trace of playful interest flowing in its violet eyes. It watched the pathetic convoy as if enjoying a comical play.

"Oh?"

"Is this... the final entertainment of the banquet?"

"What a bunch of pathetic and ridiculous bugs."

"Very well, let my children enjoy an appetizer before the main course is served."

The Keeper of Secrets seemed to find this sudden "interlude" quite interesting.

It couldn't even be bothered to take action itself.

It merely sat on its throne, in that distorted Warp field filled with decadent sounds, elegantly raised an arm, and with long, slender fingers, gently snapped its fingers in the air.

"Snap."

A crisp sound, almost impossible to hear.

Yet, it was this very action.

The entire Valentine Manor came alive.

In the courtyard, those wriggling flesh carpets suddenly bulged with huge pustules.

On the walls of the buildings, those reliefs made of human faces opened their wailing mouths.

From deep within the shadows came a bone-chilling, sticky friction sound.

The next second.

"Splurt! Splurt! Splurt!"

Countless pink and purple figures, with enchanting postures yet carrying a deadly threat, "grew" out of the flesh, "squeezed" out of the walls, and "flowed" out of the shadows.

It was Slaanesh's banshees!

Hundreds upon hundreds of Lust Demons (Daemonettes)!

They held sharp pincers, their bodies flickering between reality and illusion, emitting that kind of soul-stealing, mind-bending shriek that could snatch away a mortal's soul.

Their target was not the two huge thor mecha on the front lines.

Nor was it Titus's spearhead squad advancing on the flank.

Nor was it the Space Marines waiting in formation on the perimeter.

Their target was only one.

That convoy radiating endless fear and delicious souls.

"Ahhh—!"

The banshees' shriek, like an invisible wave, instantly swept across the entire battlefield.

In the Planetary Governor's convoy, the head of one guard exploded on the spot, red and white matter splattering the entire vehicle window.

Another guard revealed a dazed, infatuated smile; he dropped the Bolter in his hand and opened his arms, as if welcoming a lover's embrace. The next second, a pink and purple afterimage flashed by, and his body was neatly cut into two at the waist, his upper body slowly sliding down while still wearing that expression of bliss.

"No! No! No!!!"

The Planetary Governor let out a scream like a slaughtered pig.

He saw the pink and purple tide surging crazily toward his convoy from all directions.

Those enchanting yet terrifying demons were like a school of sharks that had smelled blood; in their eyes, there was only pure greed and the joy of slaughter.

Inside the heavy command vehicle.

On the holographic sand table, the red dots representing countless enemy units changed their direction of movement in an instant.

They formed a huge, unstoppable red torrent, bypassing the green defensive line representing Zhang Yuan's troops, and pounced precisely and madly upon that golden iris emblem.

The Commander of the Banshee Squadron reported urgently over the communication channel.

"Commander! The target... the target is surrounded by a large number of demon units! We... we have lost the firing window!"

Ilaria stared intently at the sand table. Her hand was still pressed against the sword at her waist.

She knew that now was the best time. The best opportunity.

The demons were personally conducting the "trial" of the Planetary Governor, completely erasing all legal procedures and consequences. This was the most efficient result, and the one most in line with her duties as an Inquisitor—to eliminate the traitor without bearing any legal responsibility.

She only needed to remain silent.

Zhang Yuan's extreme rage, born from being humiliated, had now eerily calmed down.

He watched that spectacular and terrifying scene on the sand table.