Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 140: Just a joke

Saint Gilles was indeed a paragon of virtue and righteousness; no matter how Mordred tried to persuade him, he refused to join his Second Empire.

Especially when he learned that he was to be made emperor, he was furious and said thank you for the invitation, but he would never want to hold any position related to the emperor in his life, because he felt that it was very unlucky.

Seeing that this guy was unmoved by either soft or hard tactics, Mordred gave up on the idea of ​​tricking him into joining the group, simply assuming that he was ignorant and unaware of Atlas's true strength.

Now that things had come to this, Mordred, who had wanted to be more subtle, stopped pretending and directly led his good brothers to the Baal Wasteland. Under the clear, foolish gazes of the Holy Blood Angels, Mordred pointed to the aid station set up by the Ninth Legion in the distance and said:

“Brother, although you have unified Baal and brought order and stability to mankind, the real future is not like this. This is what you can do, but it is what we Atlas can do.”

"???"

Everyone was puzzled, wondering what had gotten into the war commander again, but soon they saw countless shooting stars streak across the sky.

The sonic booms generated by the burning atmosphere roared, and countless spaceships appeared on the horizon, even obscuring the sun with this man-made power.

Seeing the utterly shocked Saint Gilles, Mordred reached out and gently closed his mouth, asking with a smug look:

"This is Atlas, this is the Giant of the Sky, this is what makes me a Warmaster of the Empire. I'll give you one more chance, do you want to join me..."

"Yes, I must join! Second Brother, I was abrupt just now. The Second Empire is everything I've always wanted, and I'm eager to advance!"

He grabbed Mordred's leg and abandoned all pretense. What use was pride? He was already a member of the Second Empire.

"Hehehe, good, very spirited. Welcome to the Second Empire. Now, I'll teach you the glory of managerial democracy!"

As a plan execution enthusiast, Mordred has been quite busy lately. He directly assembled all the ships of Atlas and joined forces with the three legions of the Emperor's Son, the Iron Warriors, and the Ultramarines to carry out a 30K version of strategic airlift.

During this month, the communication network of the Abomination was almost overwhelmed by Atlas's interstellar messages, which greatly exacerbated the sudden death rate of Terra Council personnel, leading the Ministry of State Affairs to believe that Mordred was about to launch a rebellion.

Fortunately, the title of Warmaster was indeed effective, and no one would really suspect that the Warmaster was rebelling, at least not as an Ultramarines. They just thought that Atlas was acting crazy again.

Using the Eldar network as a transit point, Atlas mobilized 75% of the Legion's personnel. Macragge's administrative staff were reassigned one by one, Chemos's production line was directly packaged, and supplies from the Tranquil World were dispatched by ship, heading to Baal along with the Iron Warriors.

Thanks to the power of the Divine Seal Network, a total of 1300 ships of various colors were deployed throughout the Empire in less than half a month. Atlas could be seen everywhere, and black ships bearing the letter A were everywhere.

Despite being loved by everyone, Saint Gillespie, having just returned to the Empire, was quite naive. He only thought the dense array of ships in the sky was impressive, but he couldn't grasp the true extent of their power.

The other Holy Blood Angels are different. Those who have survived to this day are all veterans selected from mountains of corpses and seas of blood. They know very well how difficult it is to mobilize so many forces.

Mordred wanted this reaction. Atlas had a bad reputation before. Although it wasn't explicitly stated, most people looked down on this kind of behavior that didn't go to the battlefield but only hauled goods behind the scenes.

They believe that Atlas's current position is entirely due to Mordred's status as a war commander of the Empire, which allowed him to gain preferential treatment for his own legions.

But today, Mordred is going to show everyone that the support with the highest economy is the most powerful. He's going to let everyone know that while Atlas may be strong, Mordred is tough!
By establishing a reputation and cultivating a powerful image in the eyes of the Empire, Atlas will gain more advantages in achieving their ultimate goal of becoming a global conglomerate.

With an arrogant expression, Mordred decisively reached out and pulled up his little brother, while simultaneously closing the angel's smirking, unseemly chin.

"Ninth Brother, do you see? This is the benefit of joining the Second Empire. We will have someone come to evaluate Baal and design a follow-up plan that best suits your development."

There will be no pointless hardships or ignorant behavior. Before long, the radiation in the entire Baal region will be eliminated, turning the yellow sand into an oasis and spreading forests and grasslands all over the world.

You can unleash your artistic talents on Baal and make this planet a true home. Before long, in just a few generations, everyone will be able to proudly call Baal their home planet.

Mordred's description drew the attention of all the Blood Angels, who for the first time saw a glimmer of hope—a scene they, warriors who had spent half a century in the midst of slaughter, had never imagined.

But just when you're having a good time, someone always manages to spoil the mood. Radolon stepped forward and asked a rather unpleasant question:

"But General, if they don't go through hardships and trials, how can the Baal people develop resilience and become soldiers of the legion?"
No matter what, we are a legion, and our mission is to wage a great expedition!

Surprisingly, quite a few people thought this made a lot of sense, which made Mordred's teeth ache. He wondered if these people had some kind of serious illness.

Mordred snatched the strawberry canned fruit from the pile and, if this kid wasn't Atlas, he would have exiled him to Catachan.

"Kid, it's a good thing you're not my son, otherwise, based on what you just said, I could make you cry like a fart."

Remember this: suffering is never something to be celebrated; the only thing worth celebrating is the group of people who overcome suffering. This is typical outdated and harmful thinking.

Are we supposed to force them to endure hardship, making the new recruits do wilderness survival in the Gobi Desert, repeating my brother's old path, and then having a random life-or-death battle at the end, leaving only a few survivors?

Everyone who heard this fell silent, including Saint Gilles himself; it was clear that they truly believed it.

"Tsk, back then, Old Man Huang was able to generate 20 legions just from Terra. I thought the Terrans had some kind of special buff. With your brain-dead thinking, no wonder it's so hard to recruit Space Marines. You've really wasted your genetic seeds."

"Wait a minute, I have a question for you. What do you think of Guilliman, the Primarch of the Ultramarines?"

After a brief silence, no one spoke first, except for Radoron, who was being held by Mordred:
“Warlord, His Highness Guilliman is definitely an excellent Primarch, and I am also a loyal warrior under the Emperor, all for the Empire. It’s just that he’s a bit ambitious!”

"Ambitious?"

“That’s right, ambitious.” To cover up his previous embarrassment, Radoron said in a serious tone:

"General, you may not know this, but since His Highness Guilliman returned to the Legion, our cousins ​​have changed. They have started to stay in Altramar and only conduct small-scale expeditions in the surrounding areas."

Even we Holy Blood Angels obey His Majesty's orders and go wherever we are told. Only the Ultra Warriors obey orders but not summons.

They even formed the Principality of Altrama; this phenomenon of a state within a state says it all. I even suspect that future Ultramarines might rebel.

"I'm sorry, it's really my fault for leaving you with this impression!"

The sudden sound startled Radron, and as Mordred released his grip, another pair of large hands lifted him up.

Looking at the towering giant in front of him, clad in cobalt blue armor, Radoron felt that he was having a bad day and might die. But he didn't want to die young right after seeing his father!

"Your Highness, I was just joking. Do you think I still have a chance?"

"..."

P.S.: My life is more important. I still have two more hairs to grow during the day, so I have to go to sleep right away.

(End of this chapter)