The intensity and bizarre nature of the battle in this United Empire dimension, which the Salamanders Legion had broken into, instantly climbed to the peak.
This place vividly displayed their twisted technological aesthetics and biological modification capabilities.
The combat units of the United Empire, like products crawling out of the deepest nightmares, madly lunged at the invaders who were setting fires everywhere.
On the ground battlefield, the most numerous were the infantry units called Stitch Walkers.
They were forcibly pieced together from the limbs and organs of at least three different humanoid creatures—obviously from conquered races—then fixed with metal braces and implanted with basic combat command neural bundles.
Some brandished biochemical corrosive blades, while others had their arms modified into biochemical guns that spewed bone spikes laced with neurotoxins.
They roared meaningless syllables, charging in chaotic and wild formations, relying on numbers and the coverage of biochemical weapons to attack.
Coordinating with the Stitch Walkers were heavy units referred to by the Salamanders as Maw Beasts.
These creatures possessed thick chitinous carapaces akin to armored tanks. Their fronts were unimaginably massive fleshy maws filled with spiral sharp teeth, capable of spraying high-pressure streams of acid or directly devouring light vehicles.
Their movements were relatively slow, but their destructive power was astonishing; they were sharp weapons for storming fortifications and breaking through defense lines.
The air was filled with Membranous Hunters and Spore Bombers.
Membranous Hunters resembled a hybrid of enlarged vampire bats and fighter jets. They possessed sharp biomass bone blades and cavities capable of firing biological plasma. They were fast with bizarre maneuverability, excelling at diving, slashing, and harassing ground targets.
Spore Bombers were like bloated flying sacs. They circled at high altitudes, dropping explosive biochemical bombs downward that released highly corrosive spore clouds or parasitic larvae.
There were even more massive and deformed units faintly visible at the edges of the battlefield, acting like mobile biological fortresses, their specific functions not yet fully revealed.
The entire military force of the United Empire exuded a coldness and sense of blasphemy that treated life as a parts inventory to be disassembled, spliced, and enhanced at will...
Various manifestations were rather similar to the Qu civilization.
The lighting and shadows of this dimension itself were also extremely uncomfortable.
On the dark purple canopy, a massive star shaped like a biological pupil emitted cold light, dyeing everything in a sickly hue.
Tiny, fluorescent biological spores floated in the air like living dust.
The earth, or rather the ground composed of those massive biological structures, displayed a pulsating, bizarre texture mixing metallic luster with flesh and blood patterns. Stepping on it yielded both the hardness of metal and a certain nauseating elasticity.
Pungent chemical odors, the sickly sweet scent of decay, and high-frequency environmental noise resembling the flapping of insect wings intertwined together, constituting a continuous torture to the senses.
However, within this filthy purgatory, there were not only mournful wails of despair.
As the Salamanders Legion launched their unstoppable offensive, those other intelligent races that had been enslaved and oppressed by the United Empire for a long time—
They could be resistance forces of old human armies accidentally swept up here and fighting for years, or they could be slaves of other conquered alien races; all keenly perceived this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
In every corner where the United Empire's ruling power was violently shaken due to the invasion of a strong enemy, sporadic fires of resistance were ignited, subsequently gathering into widespread blazes.
Using crude weapons and long-accumulated fury, they ambushed isolated United Empire patrols, destroyed logistical supply lines, and even made contact with the infiltrating Salamanders squads at certain key nodes, providing valuable intelligence or acting as guides.
Although these acts of resistance were not enough to directly turn the tide of the battle, they acted like a lingering disease, further disrupting the United Empire's defense systems, scattering their troop strength, and creating more favorable conditions for the Salamanders' advance.
Meanwhile, the Salamanders Legion executed their mission of purification and destruction with an almost cold efficiency.
Their advance was as steady as flowing magma, completely unstoppable.
The Imperial fleet's orbital bombardments were precise and lethal; every volley of lances and macro-cannons could clear out patches of blank areas among the enemy swarms.
On the ground, Astartes squads, coordinating with auxiliary forces, Helljumpers, biological weapons, and armored units, crushed forward in tight tactical formations.
The roar of bolter rounds was the most stable rhythm on the battlefield. Every shot precisely tore through the weak joints of the Stitch Walkers or drilled into the mouths of the Maw Beasts to detonate their acid sacs.
Melta weapons were the best choice for purifying blasphemous creations. As the scorching beams swept past, whether it was flesh and blood or twisted metal, everything vaporized and vanished under extreme high temperatures.
Flamers were the very signature of the Salamanders. The roaring flames acted like living creatures, greedily licking at every object tainted by the United Empire's aura, turning them into soaring torches and scattering ashes.
In the purified areas, the air was filled with the burnt smell of high-temperature scorching, replacing the original stench of decay.
The kill-death ratio was even more astonishingly disparate.
The seemingly ferocious and massively numbered biological weapon frenzy of the United Empire appeared fragile and inefficient in the face of the Salamanders Legion's rigorous tactics, sophisticated equipment, unyielding will, and the invisible encouragement from their Primarch.
Facing the Imperial legions, they seemed to lack true tactical coordination. Confronted with the multi-angle crossfire and close-quarters coordination of the Astartes squads, they often fell in droves.
The Salamanders' casualties were minimal, mostly consisting of slight damage to their armor or isolated losses under extreme saturation attacks.
Their frontline, like a red-hot branding iron on the United Empire's filthy canvas, steadily and resolutely pushed forward, leaving behind burning paths of purification.
At the very forefront of this crushing offensive, the most dazzling and morale-boosting figure constantly charged at the most dangerous positions.
That was exactly the Captain of the Salamanders' 3rd Company, the legendary Gao Zan.
He did not pilot the exclusive Titan or Knight purchased from the Thousand Sons Legion, nor did he command from the bridge. Instead, clad in heavy Terminator armor and wielding his iconic, unimaginably massive power hammer, he charged side by side with his gene-father, the Primarch Vulkan.
Vulkan himself was like a moving mountain range.
His stalwart body was encased in dark green master-crafted power armor. Every swing of the giant frost hammer he wielded was accompanied by a thunderous boom and devastating energy shockwaves, turning swathes of enemies, along with the ground they stood upon, into fine powder.
His very existence was the guarantee of victory, the absolute pinnacle of the legion's morale.
And Gao Zan perfectly interpreted what it meant to be the sharpest knife under the Primarch's command.
His combat style was sweeping and grand, yet precisely lethal.
The power hammer seemed weightless in his hands, sweeping out with a momentum to crush everything. Whether it was the thick carapaces of the Maw Beasts or the agile fuselages of small biological flyers, all shattered, deformed, and exploded beneath the hammer.
He was like the firmest reef, resisting the most turbulent enemy tides, and also like the most furious thunder, tearing through any obstacle that dared to block the legion's advance.
Every one of his angry roars and every strike of his hammer made the blood of the Salamanders warriors behind him boil with soaring battle intent.
This scene deeply shocked those high-ranking United Empire officers who possessed higher self-awareness through remote observation equipment.
Their cognitive systems, based on biological modifications and collective thinking logic, experienced severe disorder and...
Self-doubt.
How is this possible...
How could there exist such...
Such physically formidable individual warriors?
A high-ranking commander responsible for this war zone was filled with incomprehensible confusion in its cognitive core.
What the United Empire excelled at and relied on the most was likewise biological modification technology.
They could manufacture elite biological weapons that were not inferior, or even unilaterally superior, to Astartes monks in pure strength, speed, or special abilities.
For example, certain City Breakers bred specifically to counter heavily armored units possessed enough brute force to flip over main battle tanks;
Or some Hunters possessing extremely fast speed and regenerative abilities, sufficient to pose a massive threat to ordinary soldiers in complex terrain.
However, these elite weapons, without exception, were products of mass modulation.
They might possess powerful bodies, but they absolutely lacked the individual willpower, tactical wisdom, leadership talent, and irreplaceable actual combat experience accumulated over long bloody battles like Gao Zan had.
They were merely weapons, tools to execute orders, without self or personality, much less capable of making spiritual judgments and commanding beyond pre-set programs according to the rapidly changing situations on the battlefield.
As for extraordinary individuals like Company Champions and Company Honor Guards, who could be considered top-tier among the Astartes, not to mention a Primarch like Vulkan who was akin to a walking natural disaster...
This completely exceeded the theoretical framework of the United Empire's mass-producible elite weapons.
They could not comprehend, nor could they replicate this elite cultivation system that pushed the potential of extraordinary individuals to the absolute limit and perfectly combined it with absolute loyalty, rich experience, and outstanding leadership.
This was not just a technological gap; it was a fundamental difference in civilizational philosophy and cognition of life.
In the eyes of the United Empire, extreme individual strength was inefficient and unreliable; collective homogenization and controllability were the optimal solutions.
However, this group of burning giants before their eyes ruthlessly shattered this cognition of theirs with irrefutable martial force.
The Salamanders' offensive could no longer be described as an attack; it was a purifying storm sweeping across the entire dimension.
With an all-conquering momentum, they brazenly pushed from multiple directions toward the deepest parts of the United Empire's dimension—locations emitting the strongest energy fluctuations and biological signals, suspected to be core areas or vital hubs.
All resistance along the way was reduced to ashes and ruins before the dark green tide of steel and the holy fire that burned everything.
The dimensional territory carefully constructed by the United Empire, full of blasphemous aesthetics, was being burned, purified, and reshaped inch by inch by the Empire's fury.
Vulkan's advance was unstoppable, burning through the layers upon layers of twisted defense lines of the United Empire.
Closely following behind him were his most loyal Honor Guard and the elites of the 3rd Company led by Captain Gao Zan, acting like a red-hot sharp blade.
Their target directly pointed at the core area heavily guarded by layers of defenses in this filthy dimension—the living and residential zones of the United Empire's nobility and true ruling class.
When they broke through the final defense line constructed by elite biological weapons and energy barriers and stepped into this area, the scene before them was entirely different from the bloody chaos on the previous battlefields, yet equally filled with blasphemy and discordance.
This place seemed to be an oasis forcibly carved out within this biological industrial hell.
Although the towering buildings still bore traces of biological structures, such as curved skeletal pillars and fleshy outer walls covered in fluorescent moss, their lines were clearly meticulously designed, presenting a bizarrely twisted elegance.
The air was permeated with artificially formulated spice scents that masked the stench of decay from the outside.
The streets were paved with smooth materials akin to the scales of some giant creature, and hovering vehicles glided past silently.
Above the dome, a soft but color-distorted sky was simulated, and there were even glowing creatures shaped like jellyfish slowly drifting to serve as lighting and decoration.
And those residing here were the true citizens of the United Empire, the upper class enjoying the fruits of their rule.
Their appearances corroborated this civilization's ultimate abuse of biological modification.
Most maintained some twisted humanoid form, but their bodies had undergone extreme optimization and beautification.
Their skin was smooth as wax, gleaming with an unhealthy metallic or pearlescent luster;
The proportions of their facial features were precisely calculated, yet appeared completely lifeless due to being overly perfect, their eyes hollow;
Their limbs might be elongated to appear elegant, or had superfluous, decorative tiny appendages added to them;
Their clothing was woven from biological threads and luminous mycelium, luxurious and bizarre.
They were meticulously modulated works of art, as well as the vested interests of this twisted society.
When Vulkan's stalwart body burning with purifying fury, along with the group of steel giants exuding an aura of death behind him, burst into this pure land they considered absolutely safe like destructive Titans from mythology, extreme terror instantly replaced the numbness and arrogance on the faces of these nobles.
Panicked screams and chaotic orders rose and fell in succession.
These nobles, usually aloof and regarding other races as experimental materials or slaves, now made total fools of themselves, desperately surging toward those pre-set emergency teleportation nodes.
They attempted to activate the technology the United Empire relied upon for dimensional jumping and emergency escapes, to open temporary dimensional rifts and flee to other safe star sectors the Empire had not yet set foot in.
However, their hopes were destined to be dashed.
Long before the full-scale offensive was launched, the Techmarines and Librarians accompanying the Salamanders had already dedicated their full efforts to deciphering the principles of the United Empire's teleportation technology, integrating data seized from Wallace Breen and multiple facilities.
This technology possessed immense randomness and instability. Its precision and safety in crossing dimensions were far inferior to the spatial gates opened by the Emperor, which were based on deeper universal laws, and it had extremely complex energy and coordinate limitations.
Nevertheless, while this type of technology was considered outstanding for ordinary civilizations, the Human Empire's technicians still managed to find its key frequencies and energy signatures within a short period.
At the same time Vulkan launched the assault, a specialized task force fleet had already deployed large-scale jammers and frequency-locking devices at key locations.
Although the United Empire's portal technology had some value in random cross-dimensional travel and could provide new ideas or supplements to the Empire's existing warp technology, its inherent risks and inefficiency dictated that it could not replace the spatial gates.
Its greatest value might lie in short-range tactical maneuvers under certain specific environments, or as samples for studying alien dimensional theories.
But this moment was not the time to delve into its technological value.
When the nobles attempted to activate the teleportation, all that awaited them were the sparks of energy backlash and the cold prompts of failure.
The dimensional coordinates of the entire noble district had been temporarily anchored and jammed; any unauthorized dimensional jump attempts were forcibly blocked.
The path of escape was already severed.
""
Vulkan's gaze swept over these panic-stricken alien nobles attempting to flee. There was not a trace of pity in his eyes, only the resolve to execute a verdict of extermination.
When dealing with human compatriots who had gone astray or been forced to comply, he could show immense patience and gentleness, giving them opportunities for salvation and rehabilitation.
But toward these alien rulers who took pleasure in enslaving and modifying humans and other races, establishing and maintaining such a blasphemous order, the creed of the Salamanders aligned with the iron law of the Empire—
For aliens, there was only one path: purification.
Better to kill by mistake than to let one slip away!
"For the Emperor! Purge the aliens!"
Vulkan's angry roar was like a thunderclap as he took the lead and charged at the groups of nobles gathered in front of what seemed to be the imperial palace or core administrative buildings.
Gao Zan and the Honor Guard followed closely behind, like a red-hot iron stream pouring into a flock of sheep.
The slaughter, or rather, the righteous execution, began.
Bolter rounds precisely pierced through those meticulously groomed heads. Power weapons easily tore through waxy skin and reinforced bones, and flamers engulfed screaming figures in the fires of purification.
There were no trials, no negotiations; only the most direct and thorough physical purification.
These nobles, who had once dictated the fates of countless races, were as fragile as exquisite porcelain before the Empire's most ruthless warriors, shattering upon contact.
Vulkan was unstoppable. He charged straight into the depths of the most magnificent and most blasphemously decorated palace building.
Any biological guards or mutated nobles who dared to block his path were turned into fine powder beneath his giant hammer.
Ultimately, in the most central hall, he found the nominal supreme ruling council of the United Empire, along with a large number of core officials.
They might still be attempting to activate the final self-destruct protocols, or letting out desperate soul-wrenching wails.
But all struggles were futile in the face of Vulkan's absolute power and will.
The giant frost hammer crashed down with the mighty force to burn everything to ashes.
The loud bangs, flashes of fire, ice crystals, the roaring collapse of the building, and the final few alien shrieks that abruptly ceased marked the physical end of the highest ruling class of this twisted regime built upon the suffering of countless races.
With the most cruel and thorough method, the Salamanders Legion proclaimed to the entire 21st Universe:
Any alien force that dared to make enemies of humanity and commit blasphemous acts was bound to face the Empire's merciless and unforgiving destruction...
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