Mont looked at his reflection in the mirror, somewhat bewildered.
It was a face entirely unfamiliar to him; the direction of his horns had been altered, his skin had turned a slightly yellowish color, similar to a normal human, and the contours of his face had softened somewhat compared to before.
The pustules and inflammations on his skin were also cleverly concealed.
This made Mont look like nothing more than a middle-aged man with horns and a mild mutation.
Mont touched his face, somewhat disbelievingly.
Alexander had just, from who knows where, suddenly pulled out a large jar of strange gray clay.
He applied this clay to Mont's face, and in an instant, Mont's face was transformed into a different appearance.
No wonder, no wonder he said he could let Mont come along.
Mont could sense that Alexander still harbored considerable vigilance towards them.
He looked at Alexander, who was standing in a corner of the shack, molding his own face with that peculiar clay.
"A little higher on the cheekbones?"
Alexander asked Sanguinius at the corner of his eye.
"Yes, yes, about two millimeters higher would be right."
"Hairline higher. Guilliman's hairline isn't this low."
"And the eyes? Does it have that vibe?"
"It's similar. Guilliman had this look ten thousand years ago."
"Right, adjust the corner of the mouth like this."
"With this face of Guilliman's, it's no wonder my brothers suspected him of being a rebel ten thousand years ago."
Joan, Marquite, and Mont stared blankly as Alexander talked to himself.
"Does your dad have schizophrenia?" Mont couldn't help but squat down and ask Joan beside him.
Joan gave Mont a disgusted look, then quickly put some distance between them.
The rejected Mont froze in place, looking utterly deflated.
Alexander looked at the face reflected in the mirror and nodded with satisfaction.
He turned his head to look at the group.
Mont and Marquite's expressions immediately changed.
It was a face in the style of the Mediterranean coast of Europa, every muscle on it seemed to have been meticulously sculpted by the most skilled carver.
His eyebrows were straight as if carved by a knife, and his deep-set eyes were filled with rationality and wisdom, though a closer look would reveal a deeply buried anger hidden within them.
His lips were thin, pressed into a straight line like a scabbard holding sharp eloquence, while his chin was thicker, giving him the majesty of a ruler.
This face was not as terrifying as Alexander's previous Lion face, but it spontaneously commanded respect, as if facing the ruler of hundreds of worlds.
And after Mont and Marquite looked at this face for a few seconds, they quickly noticed the terrifying anger hidden beneath its rationality.
"The Thirteenth!!!"
"Son of Vengeance!!!"
"Cursed Scion!"
The wails of the angels echoed in Mont's mind.
The fear this face brought them seemed even more terrifying than the previous Lion face.
Alexander seemed to notice the confusion in Mont's expression.
He looked at Mont, a slightly cold smile appearing on his lips, and deliberately lowered his voice, saying:
"Tell the old fourteenth."
"If there's a war in the Warp tomorrow, you and I will each lead a hundred thousand Astartes, and we'll see who returns victorious to court, and who does the cesspit backstroke."
"Huh?" Mont's face showed some bewilderment.
Alexander, as if not having had enough fun, continued to pace around the shack with this face that the angels called the "Son of Vengeance."
"And tell your angels to tell the old fourteenth: I want to see the true master of the 14th Legion; this company commander can step down."
With that, Alexander grandly waved his hand, feigning authority.
He also mumbled things like "No one understands Astartes better than I do," "Second," "Guilliman is on his way to Terra," "Quick, call the stretcher bearers!", "Cawl, help me!" and so on.
Mont and Marquite listened, completely bewildered.
They could only hear the angels' continuous exclamations of surprise.
Joan's small face was scrunched up, but the corners of her mouth couldn't be held back, as if she was about to burst out laughing.
Sanguinius curled its wings and couldn't help but laugh aloud.
"If you have an opinion about our Primarch, you can tell Guilliman to his face."
"Don't laugh, you're next." Alexander swept the golden hair from his forehead and said, "Next time I'll mold your face and sell handmade chicken meatballs on the street."
"Go sell them on Baal. My scions are short on bolter targets."
Listening to the words of Sanguinius, Alexander smiled, then looked at Mont and Marquite.
"Mont and I will sneak into the nearby settlements managed by the genestealer and listen to what the Gene Stealer Bishop truly wants to say."
With that, Alexander's gaze fell upon Mont.
The reason Alexander asked Mont to come along was not entirely due to distrust.
A more important reason was: why should he do all the dirty, tiring, and dangerous work?
He wouldn't do it! When there was something dangerous to be done, he would just kick Mont forward.
"They are eager to expand and recruit, which might reveal a weakness that allows us to infiltrate the First District," Alexander said.
He currently had two goals.
One was to investigate what the genestealer were doing.
The other was to move the Warp Engine hidden in the Government Building of the First District.
Regardless of which, he needed to find a way to infiltrate the First District.
"Indeed." Mont nodded in agreement: "Leman Russ's clay, which can change size and appearance, will make it very convenient for us to blend in."
"Unfortunately, you don't have much clay. A large-scale infiltration would easily expose us. Otherwise, we could directly lead people to infiltrate the First District and give the Four-Armed God-Emperor Cult brats a big surprise."
Attack the First District with a group of people.
Alexander stroked his chin, glanced at the plague-infected mutants outside the shack, then looked at his four-dimensional pocket, and an idea popped into his head.
A giant statue of the Four-Armed Emperor hung high on a building constructed against pipes.
This was one of the largest settlements in the entire Bottom Nest, falling under the jurisdiction of the genestealer Cult.
However, most of its residents had not truly converted to the Four-Armed God-Emperor Cult, nor had they been corrupted by the genestealer.
And today, the Bishop of the Four-Armed God-Emperor Cult would come to this settlement to preach to these residents.
The residents had been waiting on both sides of the road since early morning, simply because the Four-Armed God-Emperor Cult would distribute food and purified water to them.
These were extremely precious commodities in the Bottom Nest.
Some people also seized the opportunity to set up small stalls by the roadside, selling goods.
The stall in front of Alexander sold roasted large rats, boiled mushrooms, and jelly made from subterranean worms.
He ordered one of each, exchanged them for a few lho cigarettes, then returned to where Mont and Joan were sitting.
Joan and Mont maintained a distance wide enough for two people to sit, looking disgusted.
Mont's expression seemed a bit broken.
"I didn't choose to become a mutant," he said to Joan with deep resentment.