Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 166 War General, Not Even a Dog.

"Hey Mordred, I have something to discuss with you."

Horus Lupecal, a man among men, the epitome of masculinity, is like a dazzling star fallen to earth; just standing there inspires a sense of goodwill.

Unlike Mordred, who misleads people with her beauty, Horus's charm comes from his temperament. Even with thinning hair, his smile has a gentle, refreshing quality, like a sunny and cheerful young man, the kind of person who grows on you the more you look at him.

But this charm is selective; it had no effect on Mordred. Due to her height, Mordred could see Horus's sparse head at a glance, which always seemed a bit funny.

Even those with the original genes cannot escape the problem of baldness.

"Ahem, Horus, what do you want from me? The latest batch of magazines isn't for you... Waaah."

Before Mordred could finish speaking, Horus covered his mouth, saying, "How can we tell anyone about this? We brothers can keep it to ourselves."

"Shh, keep your voice down. Stop thinking about that magazine and think about yourself. Your father is in Ningjing, and I have a feeling he's not in a good mood. You'd better be careful."

Horus's claim that the Emperor was in a bad mood was an exaggeration; he was far from just in a bad mood. He was practically exploding with rage, constantly muttering Mordred's name, his face as black as the bottom of a pot. Horus had never seen him like this before.

Horus was quite the right man to tip off the Emperor right under his nose. But what Horus didn't know was that Mordred was completely unconcerned when he heard that the weasels were coming to cause trouble.

"Pah, I'm not afraid of him. That incompetent piece of trash dares to talk nonsense about me. He has no shame."

"Then I'll have face! I'm your father!"

A loud shout rang out, and the giant golden figure suddenly appeared behind the two of them. Just as Horus had said, his face was indeed as black as the bottom of a pot, and there were several bloody cuts on his body, as if he had been torn apart by some large beast.

But the golden giant, in a fit of rage, didn't give anyone a chance to explain. Horus was also caught in the crossfire and was slapped to the ground, leaving two large dents in the floor.

No one can accept being slapped for no reason. Mordred kicked his legs and slammed into the Emperor's waist, then started wildly scratching at the weasel as he rode on it.
"You worthless bastard, you're blaming me for your own incompetence! If you've got the guts, go and fight them! I've disliked you for a long time, you tyrant!"

"Me, a tyrant? Our whole family launched this great expedition together, and now you call me a tyrant? I think it's because I've been too lenient with you."

The Lord of Mankind and the Imperial Warmaster, two figures standing at the pinnacle of the empire, disregarded all dignity, acting like thugs and scoundrels, pulling hair and kicking groin, utterly disgracing the empire.

This scene attracted a crowd of onlookers, who were caught in a dilemma, neither able to move forward nor backward. Even the Imperial Guards were simply standing by, dumbfounded.

After all, this was His Majesty's family matter. If they went to mediate, neither side would be happy. Only Horus felt like the sky was falling and shouted, "Garlic Bird, Garlic Bird, stop fighting!"

An incompetent father, a rebellious son, and Horus, who adds to the spice of life, excite the four noble creatures who have been eyeing the Primarch, shouting, "Fight! Fight! I want to see this mouth!"

The two giants showed no mercy, clearly fighting with real fury. Their hair and clothes were scattered all over the ground, making Horus, whose hair was thinning, feel uncomfortable. He wished that the hair wasn't on his own head.

"Mordred, if you continue to be so indulgent, you might as well give up being the war commander."

"Fine, I won't do it. You think I care? Don't come crying to me later. You brought Horus here just so you could replace me, right? Here you go, I'm not doing it."

Mordred kicked the Emperor aside, removed the silver laurel wreath from her head, and threw it on the ground. Now everyone knew things had escalated. Watching Mordred being taken away by Atlas, the Emperor's face was grim and uncertain. No one dared to provoke him at this moment, and they all pretended not to see anything. Only Horus stared silently at the laurel wreath symbolizing the position of Warmaster.

Horus had his eye on the Warmaster position, and not only him, but also a certain unnamed golden lion king. In fact, every Primarch believed that he was the best candidate for Warmaster, even Horus.

But Horus would have preferred to see his brothers live in harmony, even if there was suspicion that he was posing for the photo. But judging by actions, not intentions, even if it was an act, who could keep up the act for half a century?

Just as the son of the First Return was struggling with his inner turmoil, pondering how to ease the tension between his father and Mordred, in the Tranquil Hive, inside the Hive Research Institute, which was heavily protected by the Black Stone Device, the two big guys who had seemingly broken up in everyone's eyes were secretly plotting.

"Hey, go easy on me! You dog, you actually hit me! And your claws are poisonous! You've ripped my scalp raw, can't you see I'm injured?"

Mordred remained silent, simply pouring disinfectant into the bottle and occasionally swiping her claws to remove any stray hairs.

"Shut up. This is called the composure of the older generation of artists. If we don't hit you hard, how will people know that the relationship between the Emperor and the War General has broken down? I even want to break your legs."

As a close friend, or perhaps his only friend in the world, Mordred knows exactly what kind of shit the weasel is about to poop the moment it raises its hand.

The Emperor's weakness was immediately apparent; he had clearly fought a fierce battle with the kobolds and was now extremely exhausted.

As the last stray hair was removed, the Emperor, now a man with long, straight black hair parted in the middle, sighed: "Damn it, if I could destroy the whole world with one punch, would I need to make a deal with those four pieces of trash?"
But I found something interesting this time, want to touch it and see?

Following the gaze, a small flame was silently burning on the emperor's finger, gradually turning from black to dark gold.

This flame was different from the Emperor's usual powerful spiritual energy; it looked incredibly sophisticated. Mordred extended his long tail, intending to test the flame, but was slapped back.

"Put your tail away. You have hands and feet, why do you have to play with your tail? Can't you be human-like like me?"

Mordred thought to himself, "In terms of human content, you're not even as good as me. At least I can be classified as a demi-human, while you, this yellow-skinned thing, are just a suited human, a VTober."

Actually, it's quite terrifying to think about. From the perspective of the four vendors, it's like there's a lunatic in the dormitory who not only can't get into graduate school, but also fantasizes about being a two-dimensional character.

They were also swindled out of a large sum of money by this lunatic, and in the end, instead of improving, his condition worsened, and he started playing role-playing games on the computer.

Mordred extended his finger and touched the flame, immediately feeling a sharp pain. Even though he had severed his nerves, he could still feel that piercing pain, but it was just pain.

"This is the treasure I found. Although it's only a small piece, any subspace entity that gets stuck to it will be instantly annihilated, beyond any hope of survival. I plan to find an opportunity to steal it from them later."

This sounded vaguely familiar, and after much thought, coupled with Horus's sudden visit, Mordred finally remembered what it was:

“Old Huang, don’t tell me you found this in Devon.”

"Ha, how did you know?"

(End of this chapter)