Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 157 Prophecy: Even a dog wouldn't believe it.

Pigs in slaughterhouses never think about where they'll go after they're slaughtered, because once they find out the truth, things won't be so good.

The emperor is in this state now. He knows that half of his descendants will rebel in the future, but he can't guess why or who will rebel.

He saw only a tormented, dark sun sneering at him, its nearly shattered, chaotic consciousness sending chills down his spine.

Subconsciously, the Emperor believed himself to be human, and only to be human. Even as the Great Crusade progressed and his power grew stronger day by day, to the point of surpassing human limits, he still considered himself just an ordinary human being.

Neos, a weary middle-aged man originally from the Terra Minority Peninsula, refused to believe that the future of the Empire was bleak, and he was determined to lead humanity to stand up.

To realize this dream, the immortal Neos donned gleaming golden armor, transformed into the golden overlord known as the Emperor, and stepped onto the stage, embarking on a grand expedition called the Great Crusade.

But the prophecy continued to trouble him, troubling this weary lord of mankind. In an effort to break the prophecy, after Horus's return, the Emperor devoted himself to caring for his offspring with utmost devotion, until Mordred's arrival.

As Mordred grows up, the future becomes increasingly unpredictable. Not only the Emperor, but even the Four Merchants cannot see through the fog. This gives him new hope, which is also the reason why the Emperor indulges Mordred so much.

This indulgence became even more apparent after meeting Peturab, since Peturab was not exactly the same as the one described in the Emperor's prophecy, but rather the complete opposite.

Those who manipulate fate will inevitably be devoured by it. Mordred's brain is full of shit; his future has been distorted, and even Mordred himself can't figure it out.

Therefore, whenever a new Primarch was found, the Emperor would always keep this bastard by his side to see how he would react, so as to sort out his thoughts from the chaos.

But watching Mordred strip him naked, press him down in disinfectant and scrub him up and down, screaming in pain, the Emperor felt that this bastard probably didn't have any message to convey, he was just torturing someone.

The thought of how he had been outsmarting thin air and getting beaten up for no reason made the Emperor feel uneasy, and he desperately wanted to find a bastard to beat up.

As for why he only chose one, he couldn't beat more than that.

In the past, the Emperor would have definitely gone after the kobolds, but Barbarus's stench made him decide to change his target; he had long disliked that treacherous fat man.

The Emperor's sudden departure went unnoticed; Mordred's eyes were fixed solely on Mortarion's pale, fleshy body.

It's not that Master Mo is a pervert, it's just that Motarian is really too smelly. I didn't notice it when I was in Barbarus, but after returning to the ship, the stench hit me and made my eyes water.

Karas, who came with them, was alright; he only had a bad appearance, so Mordred threw him into the pool next to them to soak. But Mortarion was different.

Having never eaten decent food since childhood, and with Barbalus being a highly toxic cesspool, the accumulated toxins meant that Mortarian's breath could knock people over.

"Xiao Mo! I didn't expect you to be so thin, yet your skin is so firm and smooth. You're perfect material for women's clothing."

But you're too weak. Look at you, not only are you constipated, but your teeth are also yellow. I'm starting to suspect you've been taking some kind of "Oli Ge" (a popular Chinese food product).

Their eyes met, and Mortarian, filled with shame and indignation, turned red with anger. But he was helpless; if he resisted even slightly, he would be brutally beaten by this bastard.

The more Mordred did this, the more excited she became. She swung her adamantite chains and hoisted Mortarion up, making him look like a roast goose hanging in a shop window.

"Guh, what are you doing? Let me go! Let me go! I'm not joining the Empire anymore!"

"Tch, ungrateful wretch! Do you know how many women outside beg me to scrub their backs? If I just lift a finger, those rich ladies will send over tons of supplies. You're lucky, kid. Come on, open your mouth!"

"I do not!"

Upon hearing this, Mordred immediately grinned wickedly, pulled out a giant syringe, and slapped it onto the brat's thigh.
"Kid, I didn't expect you to be so brave. Have you ever heard of enema therapy? It's a sophisticated technique left over from the ancient Terran era, guaranteed to give you endless surprises!"
Anyway, I'm going to clean you up no matter what today. Either you drink this whole bucket of disinfectant, or you know what happens—I even have a durian needle here!

A large barrel of solution marked with a biohazard symbol was placed at Mordred's feet, along with a large funnel.

Even after less than half a day of contact, Mortarian could tell this guy was a madman; he would actually shove that thing in, and...

"Karas, what are you doing? Don't look!"

Mortarian, his legs clenched together, looked at his good brother, but to his surprise, Karas didn't turn his head. Instead, he stared at him with wide eyes.

Faced with the choice, Mortarian finally gave in and opened his mouth to take in the enormous funnel.

As two buckets of disinfectant were poured in, Mortalian's belly swelled up like that of a woman in her tenth month of pregnancy, and she looked like she was about to roll her eyes back.

Fortunately, Master Mo was still somewhat human-like, preventing the worst-case scenario from happening. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned two Imperial Guards, signaling them to escort the young master to the restroom. The Imperial Guards held Primarchs in particularly contempt; even Horus, while respecting their abilities, secretly considered them a gangster.

But Mordred is different. He can even be so ruthless to his own brother. If you accidentally fall into his hands, wouldn't you suffer an even more miserable fate?

After washing the big one, Mordred washed the small one. Seeing Mortarian contemplating life on the golden toilet, Mordred walked straight up to Karas.

"Big brother, I choose the funnel!"

"Wow! You've even learned to answer questions first."

"Yes, I admire you, but somehow, I'd rather kill you! By the way, you're probably mixed race, right?"

Seeing his biggest secret exposed, Karas lowered his head, but before he could explain, Mordred grabbed him by the neck and lifted him up.
“Kid, Mortarian is a good man, and he’s my brother. As the saying goes, an elder brother is like a father, and I don’t want anything to happen to my brother.”

Mordred loosened his grip slightly, looking at Karas whose eyes were bulging from suffocation, and couldn't help but sigh: "If you were in my shoes, knowing that your brother might be betrayed by someone else in the future, what would you do?"

"Ahem, sir, you're not talking about me, are you?"

Mordred did not answer, but continued to look at him calmly. Her expressionless gaze sent chills down Karas's spine, as if the person in front of him was not human, but an indescribable monster from the abyss.

"Then weed it out completely!"

"You are not afraid of death?"

“I’m afraid. I don’t want to die, but I’m even more afraid that my future self will betray Mortarian. Without him, I would have been tortured to death long ago. He is different from me. He was not born to be ordinary. He will become a legend.”

"Gu, just kill me!"

"Okay, then see you in the next life."

With a splash, Karas fell straight into the pool, swallowing two mouthfuls of bathwater that nearly choked him.

Looking at Mordred, who was basking in pleasure, Karas couldn't understand why he had let him go. Was he being used as a fool?
"My lord, you won't kill me?"

"Why would I kill you? I've already said I'm a refined and easy-going person. How could anyone believe in prophecy so deeply? I'm not that kind of idiot."

What decent person would believe in prophecy? I ask you, would a decent person believe in prophecy? Of course not! Not even a dog would.

But since you're so aware of this, you'd better remember this: if I find out you're up to no good, I'll twist your head off no matter where you run to.

I'm not afraid to tell you, don't let my gentle and easygoing demeanor fool you, I'm not a good person!

For some reason, Karas felt that Mordred wasn't lying; he really could go to the ends of the earth and twist his own head off. And why would you need to hide it? You don't even need to look to know you're not a good person.

Before he could even think it through, Mortarian, now completely cleansed of all impurities, was being carried over by the Royal Guard, shivering. Upon seeing Mordred looking at him, Mordred instinctively shuddered and cried out:
"Second brother, I was abrupt just now. As long as you don't make me drink that rubbish anymore, I'll do anything you want."

"Then how about killing your godfather?"

"What? Second brother, second brother, you're my real second brother! I dream of killing that bastard."

It's that simple. If Mordred had killed Nacre without a word like the Emperor did, Mortarion would definitely have held a grudge. But after Mordred's friendly exchange, the brat should thank him.

Mordred remembered that this was something called the Stalingrad effect, which was specifically designed to deal with rebellious youths like Motalian.

Looking at the excited Mordred before him, whose eyes were so determined that he seemed ready to join the Second Empire at any moment, Mordred, as the Great Mordred, was very satisfied and put his arm around the two brilliant young talents.

"No rush, your second brother will give you a fair chance to compete."

"But I can't beat them!"

"Tsk, you good-for-nothing, who said you were going alone? Kitty, go and bring 3000 Imperial Guards over. Some aliens want to fight us one-on-one."

(End of this chapter)