Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 221 The Crow's Trail

There was not a moment of sorrow for Makala, who was exploited by Erda; the two Imperial War Marshals were about to return to the cesspool.

As one of the three great cesspools of the Warhammer universe, alongside the Foundation and Cthulhu, Mordred's face immediately fell upon his return, and Horus let out a sharp roar, like a fart that had been stepped on.

"Macado, what are you doing, you dog donkey?"

Horus was understandably distraught, for Macado stood behind him holding a giant syringe filled with peanut butter, his eyes filled with reluctance and disappointment.

Coupled with Mordred and Horus maintaining the same pose as five years ago, it creates an indescribable eeriness and grotesqueness.

This is like a gay guy sneaking into a boys' dormitory. Once a chain of suspicion is formed, that's the most terrifying thing. Horus would rather point to a bomb gun than have a syringe stuck in his mouth and teeth!

"Nothing, just knew my vacation was over! By the way, Mordred, how about you…"

"Get lost! Believe me or not, I'll self-destruct and kill you, you son of a bitch!"

Knowing he was in the wrong, Makado shrugged and made a psionic teleportation and ran away, leaving only the giant syringe rolling on the spot and slipping in front of Horus.

"Well, if I'm not mistaken, it seems we've been gone for a full five years this time, which means..."

"Stop talking!" Horus's face was resolute, like a philosopher-king whose will could not be broken and whose mind could not be disturbed by any thoughts, his eyes filled only with longing for beautiful memories:
"It's just a little physical pain, I can take it! This trip is a wonderful memory for me, it was worth it! It was totally worth it!"

Seeing Mordred's disgusted look, Horus finally gave in and begged his good second brother to help him up, saying he couldn't feel his butt anymore.

With a flick of her fingernail, Mordred severed the chains with chitinous claws imbued with a disintegrating force field, helped Horus to his feet, and summoned her offspring through the mental network.

When they saw that their father had finally come back to life, the nine oxen and horses wept with joy. They were finally free and no longer had to be those damned government servants. But there were always a few clueless people who would ruin the atmosphere.

"Hey? Father, why are you crossing your legs?" Abaddon's words instantly filled the room with an awkward atmosphere.

Horus suddenly felt that perhaps he had been too kind to them, especially that rebellious son Abaddon. If you can't speak properly, then don't speak at all. And was that damned spiky braid mocking my thinning hair?

"It's nothing. Mordred and I were in a very fierce battle, but in the end we were better. Come and help me up, I need to rest properly."

If Mordred hadn't known what Horus had been like for the past 13 years, he might have believed it. No wonder Old Man Huang kept repeating "the son of the first return" to him every day. Their stubbornness was exactly the same. Then he saw Tom.

"..."

"Father, I..."

Mordred admitted that he used to be a superstitious believer in science, thinking that science could explain all the truths in the world, and that he could even summarize a series of theories about the warp.

But science doesn't exist with Tom. This kid always manages to pull off some kind of trick, or he awakens some special talent that allows him to always find the Primarch.

Sure enough, upon returning to the Abomination, Tom immediately reported his findings:

"Father, here's what happened. Didn't you give me a table of characteristics of the Primogen? Guess what?"

Mordred didn't want to guess; he had a more efficient way. He simply pulled out his belt and slammed it on the table. Seeing the danger, Tom immediately knelt down and hurriedly pulled out his data tablet. Looking at the unusual frequency on the tablet, Mordred immediately recognized it as an illegal broadcast, and also a browsing history.

Due to Atlas, the Great Crusade is progressing much faster than originally planned, and has now lasted for nearly a century, reaching its peak.

As we all know, when a force expands too quickly, the hidden dangers behind it will grow bigger and bigger until they explode in an instant.

The empire was a thoroughly militaristic regime, making it a villain in any story. In comparison, the Sith Empire was a beacon of civilization.

The fact that the empire, a makeshift organization, hasn't encountered any major problems so far is entirely due to strongman politics and an overwhelming sense of martial virtue.

Despite constantly mocking the yellow weasels, Mordred had to admit that Imperial Truth was indeed a perfect slogan that could unify everything.

Various alien species ravage the galaxy, warlords wage war and the people suffer, and the unification of humanity is an inevitable trend. This is the Great Crusade.

For the Great Expedition, everyone from Terran councilors to Hive workers silently endured the hardships. The Tithief was created for this purpose, a complete wartime economic system.

As long as the Great Expedition continues to be victorious, there will be a constant stream of world resources to be exploited, providing energy for this steel behemoth called the Empire and silencing all dissent.

Everything seemed to be going well, but underneath, undercurrents were surging, and all sorts of small groups and forces were growing wildly, with the Mechanicus being the most prominent.

Mordred knew exactly what kind of person the "oil enthusiast" was; just look at the Great Sage Kragg who was dismembered into pieces back then.

To limit the Mechanicus, the Emperor chose to allow the Iron Hand to infiltrate; as long as the Iron Hand was there, the Red Men would not be able to cause chaos.

Even if the Mechanicus really runs into trouble, there's still the Icarus Protocol as a last resort. The all-powerful Dark Angels will show these techies what the First Legion's true value is.

As for supporting a series of forging worlds such as Underworld 8 and Riza, these are all covert moves. On the surface, there is Atlas, which competes with the Mechanicus.

Atlas is a mad dog, and Mordred is the madst of mad dogs. This is the consensus of all the high-ranking officials of the Empire. Even the Space Wolves and Dark Angels, who serve as military police and counter-terrorism forces, would not launch a large-scale purge against Holy Terra at will.

During his 30 years as Warmaster, Atlas used taxation as a pretext to purge dissidents. Although he killed many people, he also profited even more, thus becoming completely integrated into the empire.

Mordred knew perfectly well that he had to let others live as well as he lived. He could exploit people, but there had to be limits. He couldn't push them to the brink of death.

For this reason, Mordred has always turned a blind eye to the Mechanicus's imitation of the Seal Terminal, and Atlas even allows the Mechanicus to come and study, so that everyone can make money together.

This illegal broadcasting is a kind of "miracle broadcast" produced by some small workshops. Its power efficiency is far inferior to that of genuine Atlas products. It is the kind that has not been officially authorized, which is equivalent to a satellite dish antenna at home, which is stealing Wi-Fi.

"What do I do if I want to kill someone? What's the mixing process for No. 36 iron concrete? How do I win my sister's heart? How are nuclear bombs made? If I kill the foreman, can I become the foreman myself? Will I get blown up if I'm holding a nuclear bomb...?"

"Wow, that's a huge leap!"

Looking at the browsing history Tom handed her, the questions inside were increasingly abstract, but Mordred still read through them carefully, simply because the data came from a world called Kival.

"Tom, you are truly my proudest son, well done!"

(End of this chapter)