Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 139 Sexy Angel, Performing Online

A plasma spark tower once said that a ship must be able to launch, and people must be well-fed.

The problem now is that the Baal people are starving, and even the Holy Blood Angels are struggling to make ends meet.

It's not that the Holy Blood Angels are truly starving; it's that their military preparedness is lax, and they don't have anything of value to offer. They're only slightly better off than the surviving members of the Eleventh Legion.

Once a cannon fodder unit, always a cannon fodder unit. The cannon fodder unit's job is simply to fill in the gaps during the Great Expedition, while the officials in the rear military affairs department have much more to think about.

With 18 main imperial expeditionary forces, 2436 fleets, three joint commanders, and Mordred, a humanoid war general who dislikes everyone and only knows how to confiscate property, the officials in the Ministry of Military Affairs are not having an easy time either.

Of the three commanders, the Emperor is the monarch and must be fully supported, Horus is the crown prince and must also be supported, and the remaining one, Feralus, is a Martian VIP and enjoys the treatment of a father.

The world's casting capacity is limited; we can't expect everyone to sell their possessions and be treated equally when creating something out of thin air.

The priority will definitely be the supply of the main force, and serving the unapproachable big brother the best tea. As for the remaining little karami, they'll just have some high-brow tea to quench their thirst.

There's even a tacit agreement within the Empire that unless there's complete cooperation with the Cult of Mechanics, the Primarch's return to the Legion is tantamount to an automatic separation, and everything must be done strictly by the book.

This is an incentive method devised by the emperor, this big, golden guy. It's very humane and has a similar advanced concept to the Zhou Dynasty's enfeoffment of feudal lords.

Don't think Mordred is being sarcastic. Feudalism is already extremely advanced in the Empire. Some worlds are still in primitive tribal societies. You never know how many Throne Coins a wildling's shell is worth.

To rid the Legion of its infamy and to stop it from acting erratically, the Archangel devised a plan to suppress its thirst for blood through art and culture.

Not only do they have to draw blood every day and give several hours of ideological and political lectures, but some troubled children also need one-on-one tutoring to severely correct their bloodthirsty nature.

But even a skilled cook can't cook without rice; ideological and political education can be taught however one wants, but when it comes to farming and managing a business, angels are a complete mess.

Fortunately, Mordred's second brother is very wealthy, and he can easily afford to support Mordred on just one or two planets.

"Ninth Brother, I'm not kidding you. I have a way to make you rich, but at least enough to cover your daily expenses. It all depends on your sincerity."

There is sincerity, but the archangel wants to earn money with dignity and doesn't want to sacrifice his appearance.

Saint Gilles was extremely conflicted as he looked at the strange clothes offered to him by the dog-woman maid.

"Brother, why don't we just forget about it? I'll work for you from now on. This is just too shameful. I don't believe anyone would like watching this."

"Why not! How will you know if you don't try? Hurry up and get to work. You've already done your makeup, what are you talking about?"

If the response is good, I'll immediately assemble a fleet to assist in the reconstruction in Baal. You don't want the people on your homeworld to suffer because of you, do you?

After saying that, Mordred took out a list and placed it in front of the angel. Looking at the aid plan that covered almost the entire Baal, Saint Gilles hesitated.

"Could we censor it with mosaics?"

"You talk too much nonsense. If I blurred your face, who would know who you are? But then again, a little concealment adds to the charm. Here, put this on!"

A veil was thrown in front of the angel. Looking at this monstrous thing, Saint Gilles felt that it would be better to show his face, but since things had come to this, he had no choice but to bite the bullet and go ahead.

Soon, with the launch of a live streaming room called Angel Loves Dorothy on the Shenyin network, more and more users flocked to it.

"Hello everyone, I am the Primarch, who has been practicing for two and a half years. This is my first personal account..."

It's no joke that everyone loves archangels; with Saint Gilles' appearance alone, he attracted a lot of attention as soon as he appeared.

With Mordred's hired online trolls campaigning for votes, the entire Divine Seal Network's users were watching. After all, this was a Primarch, a true Child God, someone you rarely saw, and even if you did, you'd have to think twice before getting killed.

Sure enough, the pervert that Mordred had marked appeared instantly and started showering people with tips.

"Oh, angel, angel, I love you so much!"

As gifts flooded the screen, WarGod88 immediately became the top contributor and gained access to Saint Gilles' chat.

"Welcome War God 88 to the live stream! Yes, I love you too!"

Saint Gilles, who was putting on a bright smile, felt nauseous, but making money was nothing to be ashamed of, so he immediately began his witty banter, emphasizing his aloofness while walking his dog.

But the kobolds fall for this. The angel is their white moonlight. If they were to be completely obedient to him because of a small gift, wouldn't that ruin their relationship?
However, before they could exchange more than a few words, three more tycoons made a dazzling appearance, and it was easy to guess who they were.

The archangel, who was very sociable, wasn't intimidated at all. He sang and performed for money, chatting casually from time to time. Everyone could tell that he cared about me.

In just ten minutes of live streaming, the back-end received an astronomical amount of virtual currency in donations. The source of this virtual currency was only one thing: recharging with Atlas's Fel Crystals.

Within the Sea of ​​Souls surrounding Tranquility, a fel star rests. If the Dark Angels were to see it, they would surely recognize what it is: the battle moon that the Randan Xenomorph dragged into the warp by Atlas.

But at this moment, it's a scene of utter chaos, with countless souls being thrown into the fel furnace to provide their gods with something to boast about.

To further extract more value, Atlas even ingeniously offered a comprador service, using abandoned spaceships lost in the warp as bargaining chips.

Once a person takes a shortcut, they can no longer work hard step by step. Looking at the back-end transaction data, the archangel's mindset underwent a slight change.

"Second brother, I feel like I'm dreaming. Is all of this mine?"

"What? Yours? You must be joking. Only 20% of this is yours."

"Only 20%?"

“Twenty percent is quite a lot.” Mordred opened Pip-Boy and pointed to the data, explaining:
"This business isn't just about our two legions. You get two, I get three, and the remaining half is protection money."

For reasons that cannot be disclosed, these assets need to be processed later and cannot be put into use immediately. I just earned a hard-earned living.

I can't reveal more details; it's a very complex situation, and you simply can't handle it. Just stick to being a virtual idol.

Saint Gilles seemed to understand who the protective umbrella was, but even so, the portion allocated to him was enough for the Blood Angels to accumulate resources.

Only Atlas can use the demon slaves, and the space shipwreck is a complete mystery. Mordred wasn't lying; Atlas really does earn his money through hard work.

Mordred, engrossed in calculating data, turned her head and met the archangel's rather strange, longing gaze:
"Second brother, now that I've shown my face in public, can't I..."

"Don't worry, 1.8 million units of advance supplies will be delivered immediately. It's time to show you Atlas's air transport capabilities."

But would you be interested in taking it a step further and joining our brotherhood's mutual support and hobby group?

Since things had come to this point, how could the archangel refuse? He immediately expressed that he was eager to improve, but didn't know what this hobby group should be called.

"Of course, it's my second empire!"

(End of this chapter)