Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 155 Corn is so delicious.

"When I designed the Primarch, my original intention was to create generals who could help me lead humanity on the Great Expedition."

The Thunder Warriors' failure taught me that Space Marines need a stable leader, which is why I created the Primarch.

"Isn't that just a tool for oxen and horses? Old Huang, I'm giving you one more chance to put your words together. You'd better try to personify it a bit."

The emperor, who was secretly eating corn deep in the cornfield, paused for a moment. He felt a rare pang of regret at Sisyphus's plight, and even the corn in his hand lost its appeal. He was eager to prove himself.

"I definitely don't just see you as tools, you have to believe me! As long as the Great Expedition ends and my Internet Dao Project succeeds, our whole family can retire."

"Wouldn't it be wonderful if we found a garden-like world to live in and enjoyed the pleasures of rural life?"

Mordred was very dissatisfied with this answer. What do you mean by "not just treating you as tools"? Isn't that exactly what you mean by treating them as tools? And this so-called retirement plan, even if you wanted to, others wouldn't agree.

Mordred grabbed another ear of corn, husk and kernels alike, and stuffed it into his mouth. He patted the Emperor's backside, who was also sprawled on the ground, proudly displaying his corn, and asked:
"You idiot, you don't understand people's hearts. It's pointless to talk to you. You said before that each legion has its corresponding function. Let me ask you, what is the Eleventh Legion for? The Eleventh Legion has been purged by Russ, and I still don't understand."

According to Mordred's intelligence, aside from the Clover Legion, the god of civil war, almost every legion has overlapping functions. For example, the Civil Engineering Duo is a farming legion with two big butts. Fu Meifeng and the Brainless One, despite trying their best to avoid it, still ended up together.

Even the all-around First Legion has Atlas and Shadowmoon Wolves as counterparts, so the sickly Eleventh Legion doesn't look like a stinky can at all.

"It's purity!"

"What? Shouldn't we Atlas be the purest?"

Hearing this, even the Emperor felt that Mordred was being a bit too shameless. How dare she talk about purity? If it weren't for his support, Atlas, a legion that would be considered blasphemous, would have wiped out the information long ago. Did she have some kind of illusion about herself?

"Shut up. Number Eleven should be the purest and most innocent one among you. He is a sharp blade specially designed to fight against chaos. He represents humanity's adaptive evolution to extreme environments from the beginning of its existence to its spread across the starry sky. He is also one of the two legions with the highest resistance to chaos."

But who would have thought that before he was even born, he was captured by Dahl and used as an egg-laying device, and his legion was also reverse-contaminated, turning into complete bio-monsters.

Seeing that Mordred was still feeling good about herself, the Emperor revealed a little secret:

"Actually, your Atlas shouldn't have become like this. My original intention was to create a super soldier with strong individual combat capabilities, which was an initial attempt at another plan."

But I underestimated the Primarch's influence on the Legion, to the point that the Second Legion, which should have been the spearhead of the offensive, has become this bunch of shameless, lazy bums who just loaf around and wait to die.

"..."

Mordred always felt that the Emperor was targeting her. Atlas was just loafing around and didn't eat your rice, so why did you care so much? It was really nonsensical.

"Shh, keep your voice down. Mortarian looks like he's coming this way. Let's get back."

"There's a tractor over there, let's hide inside."

"it is good!"

Using the cornfield as cover, the Lord of Mankind and the Imperial Warmaster, two great figures at the pinnacle of the human empire, resembled dog thieves, crawling on all fours and wriggling on the ground like maggots.

Looking at the corn that had been stolen by some unknown creature again, Mortarian frowned. It had been almost two days, and he still hadn't caught those two wild beasts.

The yellowish-brown poisonous fog began to spread gradually, and soon it would cover the entire farmland. The old farmers of Barbarossi had little time left to harvest; some had already abandoned their work and taken refuge in their houses. No one bothered to test the fog's power; even a small amount could cause suffocation and festering sores, ultimately leading to a agonizing death.

But Mortarian was different; he had already endured far more intense suffering, he was more resilient than others, and he had more time to harvest the crops.

I steadied myself against the basket behind me, which contained corn that hadn't yet dried. In this cruel world, every bit of food is precious.

Even if it is not fully mature and the grains are rich in moisture and not easy to preserve, it can still become food to fill your stomach after being dried in the wind.

A huge figure emerged from the farmland, which was gradually shrouded in thick fog, and was quickly dumping corn into the tractor. The thick waterproof cloth was designed to protect the corn from the fog as much as possible.

Hesitation leads to defeat. The harsh environment of Barbarus taught the humans who survived there to be decisive, and so did Mortarion.

Without going to harvest any more, Mortarian cranked the handle and drove his little tractor rumbling towards the settlement. He needed to husk and dry the corn as soon as possible, otherwise it would rot and spoil.

Thanks to his powerful physique, after escaping that damned prison, Mortarian, who had nearly fallen to his death from the mountain, was taken in by humans, who did not distance themselves from him because of his size.

The extremely harsh living environment made the surviving humans realize that only by sticking together can they resist the malice of nature, and Mortarian, being such a big guy, was obviously a good worker.

For some reason, Mortalian felt that something was wrong with the tractor today. Even though he hadn't loaded much corn, why was it having such a hard time climbing a hill?

"Perhaps it's because the humidity has been too high lately! Water got into the engine, causing the lack of power."

However, the humid air wasn't all bad. Motalian, who was gradually getting used to the life of a farmer, knew that as long as the sun came out again, many delicious mushrooms would grow on the ground, and he could eat more of them.

After all, as a Primarch, Mortarion had an enormous appetite, and the amount of food he grew was simply not enough to feed him.

To fill his perpetually hungry stomach and to repay the kindness of these simple farmers, Mortarian and his good friend Karas started a repair shop together.

Using the knowledge in his mind, he repaired farm tools and forged tractors for others, exchanging them for food to sustain his own survival.

"Karas, hurry up and unload the cargo, the fog is coming soon."

"I'm coming."

Upon hearing his friend's call, a rather burly and tall man ran out of the earthen house, carrying a bucket of mud and sand, and poured it on Mortarian to wash away as much of the toxin residue as possible.

Dust billowed up, and the two men, covered in soot, didn't waste any time. They hurried to the front of the carriage and lifted the waterproof tarpaulin; they had to bring the corn inside as soon as possible.

Then they saw two huge men huddled in the back of the truck, frantically munching on corn. Their precious food, meant to help them survive the thick fog, was mostly devoured by these two creatures.

"Hey, want some? This corn is so sweet!"

"Ahhh!"

Mortarion emitted a sharp, explosive sound.

(End of this chapter)