Chapter 97 You Are Already 88 Years Old, Don’t Try to Escape

"So how do you plan to encounter the expedition led by the Son of Dorne?"

Uselma Atla picked up the tea cup that he liked recently, took a sip of the fragrant and refreshing orange blossom water, briefly asked a question, and then opened the big book hanging on his waist and took a leisurely look. Read up.

In contrast, Lamizane was sitting behind his big desk, holding his head in his hands in pain.

"Why are you so happy to have a drink after hearing this kind of news?"

"Why didn't I?" Ma'atra ran her fingers through the pages of the book made of Thoth Temple sedge. "You see, I still completed it perfectly despite the lack of a sufficient number of psykers. My duty in the war group: The prophet group should use prophecies to guide the future direction and combat goals of the war group. Didn’t I do everything well? Not me."

"Then why don't you talk to Perturabo? - He's right next door." The Chapter Master lay on the table and raised his head towards the psychic advisor with a ferocious face, "Perturabo is in charge anyway. His legion and planet are nearly ten thousand years old, and they have even invaded the solar system and Holy Terra. Although he is a bit of a naval battle, wouldn't it be better to go to him for such a small matter? "

"Tsk, tsk, that's not possible," the chapter's psychic advisor raised a finger and shook his head at the chapter leader, "The venerable Perturabo is busy now, don't disturb him. So that's why he commissioned I, his brother-close friend, will tell you how to do some daily work that can help him."

"This kind of thing can no longer be called daily work! Can this kind of thing be called daily work?!"

There was a look on Lamizane's face that you could see on Gutera's face when he was awakened by a mass overtime notification on WeChat when he planned to spend a weekend vacation and even thought about how long to sleep and which group of chess pieces to paint. A painful expression.

"Can this kind of encounter with the Imperial Fist Expedition be called a daily routine? Although I have changed my appearance and my name, I have not forgotten that this is the Iron-blooded ship! This is the Iron-Blooded ship! Steel, iron, warriors The flagship of the (Gutella expletive) Empire Fist!”

"It's just a small expedition fleet. It's not like they brought the mountain formation over." A look of disapproval appeared on the face of the mortal young man. "They only have one capital ship."

"Since it's so simple, how about you take charge."

"Reject. This is your job. I am only responsible for guiding, communicating and executing."

"Shouldn't the work of guiding novices include teaching me step by step how to fight a space naval battle in this time?!"

"Not included. I said it, because I don't see the need for teaching. It's not difficult at all, as long as you have the skills."

"No?! For example, you said there is only one battleship, but they are still a fleet after all! If there is a battleship, I think there should be at least a company of Space Marines on it! Who leads the company, and the route trends? I don't even know... Oh wait, although you have divined that we will encounter the Imperial Fist expedition, so you can also use it in reverse. I mean, use your power cleverly, let us Avoid them?"

"Avoid it?" Uselmalatra closed the book with a snap and sat up, "Did you make a mistake?"

His blue-green eyes narrowed sternly, "Are you not confident at all about the power you have now? Or do you have no idea at all?"

"Of course I know the power we have, so I don't have any confidence at all."

"Oh? Then tell me, how much power do we have on hand now?"

The Fourth Primarch's body paused slightly for 0.0001 milliseconds at an extremely slow speed compared to the Primarch's speed, and Uthelma Atla's psionic auxiliary vision could see some ultra-high-speed tiny light spots shining on the opponent's retina. Internal skimming.

"We now only have one iron-blooded ship disguised as a moon-level ship, one Iron Warriors veteran with less than 10,000 men, mortal technical officers, chapter servants and crew members with less than 10,000 men, and a company in name only has three squads. New recruits in training, plus a think tank chief who is lying in the medical room so he can't be counted, a priest who also serves as a think tank, and two pharmacists. In the end, even if we count you, we still can't even get two full combat companies. Come out. ——Even if I can try to deal with one, I can’t let Perturabo come in! What if he floats away in the universe?

Lamizane became anxious as he spoke. He stood up suddenly and began to walk back and forth in the office.

"This is really too bad! We are so weak and helpless! Alas! I was too anxious when I escaped before. After escaping, I relaxed and indulged in dawdling! Too lazy!"

"..."

Utherma Atra put down his tea cup and was silent for a moment.

The psychic consultant began to really understand how Perturabo's handsome black and white dog's face had that look of relief, looking down on everything, lamenting life, and a little bit of a good show when he asked him to come over to do this. .

"Allow me to interrupt, are you counting only the living, our Chapter Leader?"

"Doesn't 'living force' count as living people?" The other party looked at him innocently, "We don't have that kind of very useful abomination intelligence to make instant analysis suggestions, feedback and command, and the Iron Blood doesn't have any ancient iron man super intelligent AI on board. I mean, the Iron Blood is not built with dark age technology, so even if there are organic souls, it still needs to be driven by living people. Fortunately, Captain Walter has always been there. By the way, so we should be able to escape just by running, right?!"

"..."

The fifteenth Primarch, who regained his second life, began to feel that perhaps his behavior of squatting in the Great Pyramid of Tizca and pretending to be autistic with a nest of drooling wolves on his head did not seem so stupid and evasive.

"You didn't take the Iron Blood's own combat power into account at all?!" The green-eyed advisor asked incredulously, "We have a Queen of Glory-class super battleship that is fully equipped and has sufficient energy except for not having enough pilots!"

"But, but!"

"But what?!" Utherma Atla began to consider whether to simply tell him to just try to command, and if that didn't work, he could help overload all the engine rooms of the other fleet with psychic energy.

"But don't all naval battles turn into boarding?!"

"What?! Ridiculous! Who taught you this?!"

"I see everyone keeps saying this, it makes sense, right?" Their Chapter Leader gestured excitedly, "Besides, the enemy is the Imperial Fists, how should we deal with them if they use a combination of teleportation and boarding? We only have Terminators, not even a Dreadnought."

"...What about your huge number of Iron Guards and robots? You didn't count yourself and them at all, did you?!"

Now it was the turn of the psychic advisor to become ferocious. The slender fingers of the dark-skinned young man grabbed the corners of the heavy silver armor of the giant who was three times taller than himself, and the polished and rounded nails made a harsh friction sound on the surface of the power armor plating.

"Do, what?!"

"Come on... It seems that I really need to teach you a good lesson...!"

Quack.

There is one more chapter, in the code