Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 160 Golden Experience, Requiem!

The existence of Primarchs is quite peculiar; they are the product of the fusion of warp and physical bodies, and to a certain extent, the physical bodies actually limit the Primarchs' power.

Because of this characteristic, Angron was able to transfer his consciousness and was divided into two parts: one was a nail pilot to carry his essence, and the other was a living mech for daily activities.

But looking at the strange humanoid figure with fine cables on its head, transformed into Angrian, in the Emperor's slideshow, the Emperor and Mordred exchanged a glance and both realized that the future was a bit too bizarre.

"Is it possible that this isn't the real Mortarion?"

The answer to this question is no. Old Huang was so disappointed because he knew clearly that this illusion was the future Motalian, especially the big, thick spiked club that was used as a pointer, which he had given to him himself.

But that's not right. If Mortarion had been kidnapped by Nurgle, Mordred would have accepted it, but why is Angron getting involved?
"In other words, if this intelligence is true, then at some point in the future, Angron will be forced to enter Mortalian's body."

"Yes, that might be the only reasonable explanation."

Mordred couldn't understand what circumstances would force Angron to abandon his body and merge with Mortarion, whether under duress or voluntarily.

"What about Guilliman? That headhunter Guilliman doesn't seem like the kind of guy who could stab you to death."

Not only Mordred didn't believe it, but the Emperor himself didn't believe it either. Even if all the Primarchs attacked together, he could still take on all of them by himself with his super strength.

The illusion was so bizarre that Mordred couldn't help but think of the terrifying Gayman 13. Only the man who treated the four peddlers like dogs could have such formidable strength.

Since we can't figure it out, we can only take it one step at a time. Anyway, judging from the scene, Angron and Mortarion are doing pretty well, so even in the worst-case scenario, there's still a chance to save them.

"Old man Huang, this is just a subspace illusion. Don't scare you like that. Who knows what will happen in the future? By the way, don't you have psychic abilities for prophecy? Why don't you tell me your fortune?"

Since he had nothing else to do and it wouldn't hurt to do some calculations, the Emperor immediately took out a deck of tarot cards and placed them on the table. After shuffling and rubbing the cards, he gestured for Mordred to draw a card first.

Mordred didn't actually believe in such superstitious things. He only gave the weasel something to do because it seemed to be in a bad mood, just to amuse the fool.

As the cards were revealed, the first card was the Empress. Under the Emperor's powerful spiritual energy, an illusion of a woman dressed in a ceremonial gown appeared, causing the golden giant's face to darken.

"Strange, this figure looks more like a priestess, but why does it look so familiar!"

"Don't ask, this round doesn't count!"

Without giving Mordred a chance to ask, the Emperor snatched the card and fiddled with it for a while, but the card he drew again was still the Empress. Even the third time the Emperor drew the card himself, the result was the same.

Enraged, the Emperor slumped into his chair, grabbed a bottle of Coke from the refrigerator, and began chugging it down, completely bewildered by Mordred's behavior.

Perhaps annoyed by Mordred's idiotic look, or perhaps because he was alone and needed someone to talk to, the Emperor, after downing two large bottles of Coke, sighed.

“That’s Erda, your biological mother! Didn’t you notice that, apart from the hair color, you look exactly like the person in the picture?”

Upon hearing this, Mordred was no longer sleepy. Sensing that there was some juicy gossip to come, he pulled up a chair and sat down next to the Emperor, gesturing for him to hurry up and tell him what he wanted to hear. He also handed him the latest Rick V cigarette.

Like all middle-aged men, the Emperor, though socially awkward, is actually quite secretly passionate. Since Mordred knows him well, he won't pretend.

"Alas! Back in the day, I was a famous handsome young man in the surrounding villages. The number of people pursuing me was endless. It's just a pity that I was too strong. Most of those ordinary women couldn't withstand my overwhelming strength."

The Emperor wasn't lying. Even without his alluring aura, he was a truly handsome man. In Mordred's era, he would have been the epitome of pure innocence, capable of attending the United Nations summit based solely on his looks.

"And as you know, lifespan is meaningless to immortals, but it is meaningful to mortals!"

As time passed, the once familiar faces gradually aged and died. In that barbaric era, we, the immortals, gradually came together.

That period was the happiest time of my life; it was during that time that I met Erda!

"Is this the classic tale of a poor boy meeting a rich and beautiful woman, a story of hard work and perseverance?"

A lonely and destitute immortal, after seeing through the illusions of the world and leaving home, falls in love at first sight with a noble priestess, but the prejudices of the world prevent them from being together.

And you, my old Deng, with your shameless persistence, finally won the heart of your beauty!

Mordred's guess was not without basis. As the saying goes, you can tell a lot about a person's character from their childhood. Judging from the weasel's appearance, it would have been a savage in ancient times. It might not even know how to cook and would only know how to eat wild animals raw.

So it must have been a rich young lady who took pity on the savage, and eventually, after spending time together, she was attracted by the emperor's pure and innocent nature.

Thinking of this, Mordred couldn't help but chuckle. His chronicle of the Roman she-wolf had new material. However, the emperor's answer completely surprised Mordred. It wasn't a poor boy pursuing a rich and beautiful woman, but rather an older woman forcibly seducing a young man.

"You bastard, what's the point of having such a vivid imagination?"

"I already said that was a barbaric era. People used leaves and clods of dirt to wipe their butts. And didn't I just say that I'm a well-known handsome young man in the surrounding area? I'm considered one of the younger immortals."

"And thinking about it makes me angry. If I hadn't been outmatched, I wouldn't have been kidnapped by those bastards and handed over to Erda. Especially that old man Olpeson, who sold me for 30 sheep."

What? There's also Ace's love! And life insurance.

Mordred was even more excited. He never expected that these immortals would play such wild games. What kind of image did they have in ancient history?

"Wait a minute, why does this plot sound so familiar? You weasel, tell me the truth, are you Zeus or something?!"

I knew this bastard was thinking the wrong thing. After many days, the golden psionic energy attack came flying through the air and struck Mordred's head directly.

"That's just because of the limitations of the times. Humans have created myths about powers they don't understand, and we immortal beings are indeed the prototypes of gods in myths."

But I have absolutely no interest in cows. This is all a fabrication by that jealous woman, Erda. Only that pervert Poseidon would be interested in other creatures. I wonder where that bastard has gone.

Also, Apollo is actually a cross-dresser, Hades is the oldest immortal among us, but he's a chatterbox, and Hercules lost a bet, so he has to call me "Papa" for the rest of his life.

Through the Emperor's narration, Mordred gradually came to understand that most famous events in human history were influenced by immortals, and that these immortals were quite wicked.

No wonder they can hang out with weasels; they're not poets at all.

While gossip may be interesting, it cannot solve the fundamental problem. The Tarot cards reveal the image of Erda as a mother, but they still cannot explain the encounter between Mortalian and Anglon.

Since they had already given up, the Emperor once again used his power, signaling Mordred to draw cards again. This time, the cards drawn were the Hanged Man, representing the search for liberation amidst chaos, and the final card, the Demon.

When the three cards are brought together, a dark flame suddenly appears, revealing an illusion.

In the scene, the nearly shattered Mortarion wields his giant club, blocking countless surging demonic tides, repeatedly shouting Guilliman's name, while on his shoulder he carries Angron, who has been smashed into a pulp.

Then, the scene shifts abruptly. A violent explosion tears through the starry sky, and a crimson figure, whose mere presence exudes terrifying power, stands with his hands behind his back, facing away from the crowd as he receives the divine punishment. He indifferently says:

"I am Magnus, the Crimson Titan, the Shattered Star General, the Crimson Calamity!"

Unexpectedly, even Magnus made an appearance. The two exchanged a glance and were both eager to see the last image. Based on the previous two images, it was at least proven that their efforts had not been in vain.

But when they saw the third video, the two of them let out a miserable wail, and Mordred even gouged out his own eyeballs with his hands.

The scene was simply too blasphemous: the priestess's gown from the previous illusion was now being worn by a green-haired woman who was holding Mortarion and nursing him with a loving expression.

The problem is that both the Emperor and Mordred could see through the illusion; it wasn't a kind woman at all, but rather...

It's not a matter of being a scoundrel!

"Quack, I don't want to see! I don't want to see! Take it away! My eyes! Ugh!"

Mordred, whose mind had been dealt a devastating blow, rolled on the ground, vomiting uncontrollably. Senior Sister Gou's move was truly ruthless.

The Emperor, standing to the side, was also not having an easy time. At least Mordred had no recollection of Ilda, even though he had been married to her for a time.

That priestess's long dress inevitably made the Emperor's mind boil. The memories of Ilda overlapped with Nurgle's, as if he could see the fat Nurgle hugging him shyly, while he himself was full of lust.

"Damn it, Neos, what's with your vivid imagination? Forget about him, forget about him!"

The Emperor, slumped on the ground, made the same choice as Mordred: he gouged out his eyeballs to physically isolate himself from the blasphemous scene, and then unleashed his psychic energy to erase his memory of Mordred.

But when his eyes recovered and he saw the mess around him, Mordred and the Emperor began to ponder again. As if history were repeating itself, Mordred once again uttered that suggestion:

"Old Huang, don't you have psychic abilities and can predict the future? Why don't you tell me your fortune?"

"Row!"

(End of this chapter)