Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 128 For Super Tranquility
It's no wonder Mordred exclaimed in surprise, because this golden toilet is so famous, just like the Brass Throne, Nurgle Gardens, Crystal Maze, and Slaanesh Silvers, it's a well-known tourist attraction.

The nickname "Golden Toilet" was too offensive, immediately provoking the displeasure of the large, golden-haired man, who kicked Mordred again, grabbed his ear, and spat out:
"You bastard, you're so infuriating! If I die in the future, it'll most likely be because you've angered me to death. This is a powerful golden throne, a technological marvel I dug out from the deserts of the Asian continent. How come it's become a toilet in your mouth?"

Perhaps even he himself felt it resembled a toilet. The Emperor kicked Mordred again, knowing it in his heart but knowing it out loud would make him lose face.

Mordred wasn't angry. He'd gotten used to the weasel's wicked nature over the years. He didn't even feel the pain from being kicked, but he still pretended to be hurt to fool the bastard. Otherwise, the bastard would have used his spiritual energy to force a fight.

"So what are you planning to do with this golden throne?"

"Of course it's for the future of humanity! Once my network is completed, I can use the Golden Throne as the activation key, and then the empire will take off!"

Mordred thought this weasel was setting up another flag, even trying to take off. With your crappy internet connection, it would be more like you could fly.

But the Emperor wouldn't listen to advice. He had a lot of witty remarks on his mind and couldn't stop. He kept praising how great and awesome the network he had built was, as if the empire would establish an everlasting legacy as long as the human network was open.

Mordred felt a sense of familiarity with the name, and then it dawned on him: wasn't this the story of the Qin Dynasty's Second Emperor's demise?

The Great Expedition is equivalent to unifying the six kingdoms, while internal and external troubles are equivalent to the great enemy of chaos. It's like an old general on a stage; no matter how you look at it, this weasel seems to have gone mad.

You're such a greenhorn, Mordred would rather travel through the Warp than ride in this junk. Don't blow yourself up one day.

Seeing that his rebellious son showed no ambition, the emperor said little, knowing that one day he would prove his decision correct.

"So in order for the success of the Internet Road Project, you'd better spit out everything you've eaten over the past few years. I'll pay you back when you grow up."

"what?"

"Give it back to me? Even Ruth doesn't believe you. You have nothing to offer, and even if you did, I wouldn't support your network construction. You're even crazier than me."

It's no wonder Mordred was so disrespectful; the human network constructed by the Emperor was simply too crude. Calling it a dirt road was an understatement. At best, it's usable, but that's all it is.

The network created by the ancient saints can isolate subspace radiation. It is called a highway, but it is more like a superdimensional pipe. This thing expands spontaneously with the subspace tides, just like capillaries.

It is home to countless races that have multiplied and thrived, and some places are even large enough to house a planet or a galaxy.

The Emperor's creation is nothing but a bomb, so crudely made it comparable to the creations of the Greenskinned Orcs. If the Internet were to explode, the entire Holy Terra should no longer be called the human homeworld; it should be renamed the Eye of Terra.

But the emperor, a gambling addict, didn't care about any of that. He was just hoping that the Internet would open and humanity would take off. Even though he knew it was true, he still stubbornly denied it.

"Mordred, my proudest son, let's help each other out, brother. I've always dreamed of having a network of our own for humanity. As long as we, father and son, are of one mind, I will nominate you as emperor once the empire takes off."

Seeing this bastard start acting shamelessly again and making empty promises, Mordred was at her wits' end.

“Shut up! Let whoever wants to be emperor be emperor. I don’t even want to be a war general. Besides, I really have no savings. All my resources have been spent on minting coins and improving people’s livelihoods.”

"How could that be!" The Emperor may have low emotional intelligence, but his IQ was not low at all. He and Macado reconciled their accounts and discovered that Atlas had already amassed a massive amount of resources through confiscation and taxation; it was impossible for them to have no assets. In fact, this was still an underestimation. Confiscating assets was just one wave of profit; Atlas's real money lay in its smuggling business. With its low loss rate, what appeared to be a massive spending spree of billions in subsidies was actually a scheme where the profits from both sides were pocketed by Atlas.

They would go back, change the paint job, and claim it was produced by Atlas themselves, repeating this cycle endlessly, having a great time.

However, in order to avoid incurring significant losses, Mordred still took out his data tablet, summoned the Imperial Guards to witness for him, and played a super-quiet recruitment video.

As a catchy, jarring melody begins, the icon for legitimate radio broadcasts flashes, and Mordred, dressed in an Atlas-style trench coat over a stretchy vest, appears in the center of the screen:
Haha, does this look familiar?

Such scenes are unfolding right now across the galaxy.
You might be next ￣へ￣

Unless you can make the most important choice of your life. (A burst of rousing music)

Prove to everyone that you have the strength and courage to pursue freedom.

Join Atlas, become a supremely tranquil elite, and a Spartan warrior in the peacekeeping force.

Slaughter the brutal and vile alien creatures, extend managerial democracy to the entire empire, become a hero, become a legend, become Atlas!

As a profound silence fell and all the world representatives raised their right hands, a little girl carrying a rifle ran up to the crowd and said to the camera:

"War Master, I want to join Atlas too! I want to defend the Empire."

"Hahaha, well done, Jill! Even little Jill has chosen to join Atlas, what are you waiting for?"
Call the Atlas recruitment hotline now to help protect our beautiful, prosperous, and peaceful super-peaceful world!
Hey ha, long live Atlas!
Waaaagh! !

The short film ended, followed by various promotional videos of the Tranquil 50 World. The emperor remained silent for a long time, seemingly understanding something, while the Imperial Guards beside him fanned the flames.
"Your Majesty, the Tranquil Subsector is indeed a wonderful place. Its environment, landscape, and even its abundance are renowned far and wide, rivaling even Macragge. As for our Terra—it's hard to say!"

Mordred retrieved the data panel and patted the slightly hunched Emperor on the shoulder: "See? I've invested all the resources into the construction of our homeland."

Our Atlas treatment is among the best in the entire Empire; otherwise, why do you think I would have become a war commander and taken the blame?

Instead of wasting time messing around with your garbage website, you should do something worthwhile. If you just went out and took a look, the people of Terra wouldn't be living such a miserable life.

An empire without people is meaningless, you heartless weasel.

If it were anyone else, they might have been broken down, but who is the Emperor? He didn't reflect on his actions at all. Instead, he clung to Mordred's coattails, saying that since Tranquility is so wealthy, you have even more power to help me repair the Internet. He didn't even care about his reputation.

Unable to shake him off or beat him in a fight, Mordred was so annoyed that he quickly offered a half-baked solution.

"Old Huang, have you ever heard of the Three Divine Artifacts of the Ancient Saints?"

(End of this chapter)