Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 250 Hope Remains: A Warning from Ten Thousand Years Later
What one cannot obtain in youth will surely haunt one for life.

With very few exceptions, every single Primarch is an orphan who can be paired with Batman. Even if they can enjoy an expensive adoptive father, they can't enjoy an expensive adoptive mother, making them like cursed lone stars.

Even the well-off Rabo, whose illustrations are accompanied by images of him, is not as good as Guilliman, the chosen one who has been loved by both his father and mother since childhood.

A gambling father, a mother who ran away from home, a seriously ill younger brother and a broken home, plus two uncles with multiple generations whose mental illnesses were not to be outdone—even Qin Shi Huang would have to boast that he had won so badly that he was completely out of control, and then eat two bowls of bean rice.

Primarchs are more or less influenced by their home planet.

The chaotic jungles of Caliban shaped the Lion King's savagery; the biting winds of Fenris shaped the Wolf King's cunning; and Chemos, forced to be frugal due to resource depletion, shaped Forgrim's pursuit of perfection.

In the barren and desolate Kolkis Wasteland, people can only survive by relying on the strong, which has fostered a fundamental logic of power dynamics among the people of this world.

Luo Jia, who grew up in this kind of world, is undoubtedly the perfect embodiment of this kind of personality.

Add to that the two sources of all evil, Colfaren and Iribas, who have been training Luojia like a dog for decades. Unless you have a barbarian like Zhuang Sen who can smash your dog's head with one punch no matter how much nonsense you spout, everyone will be twisted.

Mordred could understand Luo Jia's madness; after all, barren soil could not grow vibrant flowers or lush forests.

Once upon a time, Mordred had a friend from an ordinary family. However, from a young age, her parents constantly told her that since their family was poor, she had to work hard and study diligently, and not think about anything else, because she was the hope of the whole family.

The result was that although this friend had carved out a path, he was not happy. He was like a dark goblin who feared the sunlight, even though he was not bad in terms of conditions and had an excellent appearance.

During a business trip, under the influence of alcohol, this friend confided in Mordred, saying that he hated his parents so much that they made him rot into a pile of mud at the age when he should have been in his prime.

This friend's ending was not good. In less than half a year, he was blown up into Lego bricks by a FAB-500 and went straight to another world.

But while Mordred could understand, he couldn't stand Luo Jia rubbing his snot and tears all over him. This was no ordinary lunatic; he had to deliver a heavy blow.

No matter how Mordred beat him, Luo Jia clung to him like a leech and wouldn't leave. When the electric chair used to shock Alpha was used, Luo Jia looked quite satisfied and asked for a higher voltage.

When the belt used to discipline Forgrim was pulled, Luo Jia was overjoyed and chuckled to himself in the room when no one was around.

Left with no other choice, Mordred had to resort to his long-forgotten Titan training methods.

Watching the Golden Word Messenger skillfully maneuver through the dense hail of bullets, untouched by a single bullet, and even radiating golden light, unfurling dazzling wings to resemble an archangel, directly breaking through layers of blockade and smashing the Titan's cockpit with a single hammer blow, Mordred silently lit a cigarette.

The second-runner has clearly memorized the map, and the invincible Titan training method has fallen! For an ultimate masochist who sees pain as a reward, physical education has become a negative example.

Even wanting a cigarette was forbidden; Sally, appearing out of nowhere, flicked the cigarette butt away, pulled out a thick stack of approval lists, and shoved it into his hand, indicating that he should get back to work and that smoking was bad for his health and would shorten his lifespan.

"..."

For two whole days, Mordred stayed in his room, deep in thought. He just couldn't understand why Luo Jia, who was already so amazing, still needed to worship a great god.

If you have that ability, you could put your energy into the Great Expedition and maybe the position of War Commander would be yours. Do you really need someone to bully you and whip you?
In the end, however, Mordred still found a way to control Luo Jia: a book on child psychology that Guilliman handed her.

Inside the Abomination, Morred and Guilliman, lounging on the sofa, exchanged a glance and nodded in approval as they watched Luo Jia working diligently and frantically revising documents at a rate of one ton every half hour.

"Boss, wasn't my method good? When dealing with a masochist like this, you have to praise him and not treat him like an adult."

"Indeed, I didn't expect you to be so smart, Guilliman. It seems like Mom did a good job raising you. By the way, why do I feel like there's something strange about you?"

"Huh? How could that be? It must be that my father cursed me to kneel for too long. My thighs are still weak."

Looking at Guilliman sitting upright in front of him, Mordred felt more and more uneasy, even feeling a strange sense of familiarity, especially those eyes, which were unusually lively.

According to the files Mordred had written for each of his brothers, Guilliman was a super thinker who was always lost in thought.

Even during one-on-one duels, he would still have his mind on how to increase the total grain production of Macurag, which made Guilliman seem a bit dull at times.

But Guilliman now has such a lively look in his eyes that he seems like a completely different person, especially his slightly narrowed, dreamy little eyes, which make him look like a dog-man.

"Dogman?"

"What dog-man?"

The sudden sound interrupted Mordred's thoughts. Looking at Luo Jia, who was squeezed in the middle of the sofa and gazing at him with a pleading expression, Mordred came back to his senses, reached out and rubbed her head, praising her: "You're such a lovely little sister. You're the best, my good girl. You've finished your work, right? Go and connect with your offspring. You haven't been back to the Legion for a week. Don't let the waiting become a regret."

"Understood, Second Brother!"

Hearing that Luo Jia had finally changed his form of address, Mordred was quite satisfied, but still corrected him, "When we're working, we use our titles. I am the acting legion commander of the Word Bearers, and you are just a company commander now. You don't want to disappoint your superior, do you?"

"We will live up to the Legion's expectations!"

"Alright, go quickly. Make sure to stabilize morale. From now on, you don't need to do anything. Just stay here and receive ideological education. In three days, I will reveal the truth of all this to you."

Looking at the wretched creature that had lingered on him for so long before finally leaving, Mordred felt a deep sense of dread about his family. It was all Colfalen and Eribas's fault; their quick death was too good for them.

But as Mordred was thinking, he suddenly felt a strange chill, the source of which was none other than Guilliman standing next to him.

Mordred might try to appease Luo Jia and gradually educate her, but if it were Guilliman looking at her with that yearning gaze, it would be absolutely disgusting.

Without any hesitation, Morey punched Guilliman's big face, grabbed his blond hair, and yelled:

"Gay Man, my hunch was right! Tell me, who the hell are you? You're definitely not my dimwitted brother!"

When Luo Jia recounted it before, he didn't believe it. He thought, how could Guilliman possibly curse a weasel and kick his butt? Now he believes it. His brother must have been possessed by a ghost.

As everyone knows, there are no ghosts in this world, only demons, so...

"Sorry, brother, I have to beat this demon off you today."

Without giving Guilliman any chance to react, Mordred kicked him aside, straddled him, pulled out a fel brick, and began repeatedly slapping Guilliman's face while yelling:

"You know me, I have plenty of ways to get away from my brother, or I'll make you regret it."

"Then get off him first!"

"Bah! I, Mordred, will never compromise."

"Boss, don't hit me, it's me, Rambo."

Upon hearing this, Mordred indeed stopped hitting the brick in his hand. Before Guilliman could even relax, he heard Mordred grit his teeth and roar:

"How dare you threaten me with my most beloved disciple? You're asking for death!"

After beating him for a full half hour, seeing that Guilliman was beaten into a pig's head and about to die, Mordred finally left him.

"Tell me, who are you?"

"I really am Rambo, boss. Have you forgotten the time we peeked at Casca taking a bath on the plains and got beaten up by old Thomas?"

"Ah, you dare to pry into my memories!"

Rambo was speechless, saying, "Boss, use your brain! Anyone who tries to pry into your memories will become an idiot. Even the Emperor suffered because of this. Wake up!"

"Are you really Rambo? But why?"

"There's no why, boss. Our plan failed. I can't say too much. Just remember, I am not who I am now."

You've made your final choice, and the future looks bleak, but you told me there was still hope.

"What do you mean?"

Mordred was eager to get to the bottom of things, but before he could even speak, the sparkle in Guilliman's eyes vanished instantly, replaced by that dull, angry Excel spreadsheet once more.

"Second brother, how did I get here? Wait! What happened to my face?"

"It's nothing, Old Huang beat me up."

(End of this chapter)