Warhammer: Become a Saint Starting with the Banner of Souls

Qin Mo gently clenched his right hand, using his absolute control over the laws of space at the peak of the Mahayana stage to impose a layer of spatial confinement within a three-mile radius.

The effect is immediate.

The Alpha Legion's teleportation beacon emitted a piercing overload alarm.

The spreading pale blue energy halo suddenly twisted violently.

Immediately afterwards, all the indicator lights on the beacon surface turned a glaring red, and a large number of error codes scrolled wildly on the display screen.

"Teleportation interrupted!" an Alpha Legion technical soldier exclaimed. "Spatial anchor point could not be established! Target coordinates... the target coordinates are constantly drifting! It's as if the entire space has been locked down by something!"

The commander's pupils contracted sharply.

He suddenly turned to look at Qin Mo, where the man in black robes was standing a hundred meters away, his right hand casually clenched as if he were holding an invisible ball.

It's him.

He locked this space.

A person.

Use your body.

The teleportation was locked.

The commander of the Alpha Legion considered himself an extremely calm person, after all, one of the selection criteria for the Alpha Legion was the ability to maintain rational thinking under any circumstances.

But at that moment, his heart still pounded uncontrollably for a few beats.

Teleportation technology is the culmination of tens of thousands of years of human civilization. Its operation involves precise manipulation of subspace and complex calculations of the structure of real space.

But this person, with just a handshake, rendered all of that ineffective.

What does this mean?

This means that his control over space has far exceeded the limits of human technology.

The Dark Apostle of the Word Bearers also noticed this scene. His heart sank to the bottom.

The warp rift has closed, and the demon summoning failed. It wasn't a problem with the ritual; the demons themselves were too afraid to come out.

Teleportation was also blocked. The entire mortal support force was wiped out. Suppressive firepower had no effect on the black-robed man.

They were trapped.

"Who exactly are you?" The Dark Apostle removed his helmet, revealing an aged face covered in chaotic, corrosive patterns.

"With such immense power, why serve that false emperor sitting on the golden throne?! Can't you see the truth?!"

"A fake emperor? Doing things?"

Qin Mo seemed to have heard the biggest joke in the world. He stood with his hands behind his back, his arrogant aura soaring to the sky:

"I act solely on my whims! I cultivate demonic arts if I wish, I kill if I wish! As long as I am strong enough, who in this world is worthy of my service?"

The Dark Apostle frowned: "Then why are you helping those imperial lackeys?"

"Help? I'm not helping anyone. I just find your demons delicious."

He raised the Banner of Ten Thousand Souls and waved it in front of the Dark Apostle:

"Speaking of which, you summoned far too few demons just now. Could you summon some more? Summon more high-level ones this time; maybe if I'm full and in a better mood, I'll let you go."

The Dark Apostle's lips twitched violently.

He walked the path of chaos for ten thousand years.

He had personally sacrificed millions of souls. He thought he had seen all sorts of absurd things.

But today, he realized he was still too young.

This person actually asked him to "summon some more demons"?

Do you think demons are like cabbages in a field? You can't just pull one up and another will grow back? You can't summon them whenever you want.

Besides, those demons have already run away in fear! Who are you asking him to summon?

Sending invitations to demons across the warp?

"We cordially invite all demons to grace us with their presence. We guarantee that once you arrive, you will enjoy the ultimate experience of being devoured and refined by a black flag." —Who's coming?!

The Dark Apostle took a deep breath, suppressing his surging emotions.

He exchanged a glance with the Alpha Legion commander beside him.

The two made their decisions almost simultaneously.

The Dark Apostle sent a brief distress signal in the highest-priority encrypted channel:

An unknown and powerful enemy has been detected. Requesting reinforcements. The target possesses the ability to devour demons and seal off space; conventional weapons are ineffective. (Repeat: Conventional weapons are ineffective.)

After sending the distress signal, the Dark Apostle decisively ordered: "All units, provide alternating cover and retreat to the northwest! Do not linger!"

If you can't beat them, summoning won't help, and teleportation is blocked, then use the most primitive method: run. Run on foot.

The Word Bearers and the warriors of the Alpha Legion immediately sprang into action.

The Alpha Legion, well-trained, quickly split into multiple tactical groups, taking turns providing cover as they retreated, their bomb gun fire never ceasing. The Word Bearers, however, were less particular, directly forming a rearguard line with their melee weapons, ready to use their bodies to block the pursuit.

Qin Mo watched their chaotic retreat and sighed with disinterest.

"Boring."

He turned to look at the system screen in his mind and casually asked, "Hey, you who calls yourself the system, do you have any ways to provoke them? Fighting these spineless losers is incredibly boring."

The system screen flickered briefly, then displayed a message:

[Yes, host. Based on the detailed historical data of the Word Bearers Legion and the Alpha Legion collected in the encyclopedia database, this system has tailored two precise provocation plans for you.]

[The solution is as follows: You just need to do this... then this... and finally say these few sentences.]

Qin Mo raised an eyebrow after reading the two plans.

"That's it?" His tone was full of doubt. "Are you sure this will work?"

[Okay, host. Please trust the professionalism of this system. In the Warhammer universe, physical damage is just scratching the surface; mental critical hits are the real damage.]

Qin Mo nodded thoughtfully.

"That's interesting."

The next second, his figure vanished like smoke.

The rearguard of the Whisperers is retreating in an orderly manner.

The Dark Apostle walked in the middle of the group, directing the retreat while coordinating the escape route with the Alpha Legion via the communication channel.

His heartbeat had just calmed down a bit; the man in black robes didn't seem to be catching up.

Perhaps he really is just interested in demons? Perhaps they can escape safely—

Hello everyone.

A calm voice came from behind.

The Dark Apostle's pupils contracted sharply. Qin Mo had appeared directly in front of them at some point, less than five meters away.

Without any warning, without any sound, it appeared out of thin air.

This distance is close combat range for a Space Marine.

The Word Bearers instinctively raised their weapons, chainsaw swords, power hammers, and explosive guns aimed at Qin Mo.

But Qin Mo did not attack them.

He simply used his spiritual power to lift up a large handful of sand.

The Word Bearers watched his movements nervously, wondering what he was going to do.

Is it some kind of offensive spell? Is it a curse cast using sand as a medium? The Dark Apostle instinctively raised his psionic shield, and the other warriors also assumed defensive stances.

Then--

Under their watchful, wary gazes, Qin Mo used his spiritual power to evenly toss the handful of sand out.

The sand, like a miniature sandstorm, swept over them and evenly covered the power armor of the Word Bearer.

that's it.

They just sprinkled a handful of dirt.

There was no explosion, no corrosion, and no supernatural effects.

The Word Bearers remained in a defensive posture for three seconds.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

Nothing happened.

A Word Bearer warrior looked down at the sand on his armor in confusion, then looked up at Qin Mo, his tone filled with bewilderment, and even a hint of annoyance at being fooled:

"You...threw a handful of sand at us?"

Qin Mo tilted his head slightly and said in an extremely calm tone:

"What, you don't even recognize the City of Perfection?"