Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 263 A straight shot defeats Tsundere

As for how destructive that list was, aside from the unfortunate souls who committed suicide after being shot 13 times in the back, it didn't really affect Atlas much.

Eat and drink as usual, collect trash and sell goods as usual, but this stuff won't kill you, it's disgusting.

Mordred did not persecute the unfortunate Cyrani who was pushed forward. He was not petty and not only did not persecute him, he also fed and cared for him well.

The girl wasn't bad; she was just stupid. After some ideological education, she was sent to Qatar for 150 years of professional training.

Since he was an immortal and could not die anyway, Mordred believed that as long as he could endure the 150 years of training at the Catachan training camp, Cyrene would definitely become a pillar of the empire.

Every family has its own troubles, and there's nothing that can't be resolved once explained, but Mordred's only problem is that weasel.

If you just stand up and say something, explain Atlas's difficulties, or even if you don't say anything, just say that the Blood Stack was meant to be an insurance policy for all legions.

All my hard work for you has paid off, and I'm content with that. But who knew you, you bastard, would run away like that!
Seeing the large, blond man standing at the door with a smile more unsightly than if his father had died, Mordred's expression darkened. He ignored the unfortunate fellow and took the two cases of milk from Macado.
"Old Ma, you're here now, what did you bring? Come on in, let's have a meal together. I'll take you to a bathhouse later, and I'll cover all the expenses."

As for the big, golden guy next to him—ugh! Mordred felt his eyes were dirty just looking at him.

Mordred grabbed Macado and, without hesitation, slammed the door shut.

However, Mordred was slightly less shameless. The Emperor grabbed the door bolt, squeezed through the crack, grabbed Mordred's leg, and began to wail.
"My son, please forgive me this time. I just made a mistake that anyone would make."

Did you forget our promise to team up for the Great Expeditions for life? Mordred, I can't live without you.

Although we are father and son, we are closer than brothers.

The investiture by Caliban is still vivid in my mind. The silver laurel wreath, the silver laurel wreath, 30 years, 30 years. Choosing you as the Imperial Warmaster was the best decision I ever made in my life.

Look, I even brought the Gatanothor, the ship we three used to sail around the world together!

The Emperor took out a large glass ball and looked inside. A wooden biplane was floating inside.

The scratched cabin reminded Mordred of his 13 years with Horus and Makara. They sang and danced, without a care in the world, enjoying only a wonderful trip.

Instinctively picking up the glass ball, Mordred thought for a moment that Macala was pleading with him, but then he smelled a strange odor.

"onion."

"what?"

An overwhelming force surged forth, and Mordred kicked the Emperor to the ground, then delivered a powerful kick to his groin. A sound like an egg breaking rang out, and tears streamed uncontrollably from the Emperor's eyes.

“Makala hates onions the most. This dog doesn’t learn its lesson. How can someone like you ever change? You’re beyond saving.”

"No, I just like eating onions, but my feelings for you are real. Please give me another chance."

Mordred, feeling irritated by the Emperor clinging to his leg, pointed at the weasel-like creature—whose appearance was questionable—and spat out:

"You said the same thing last time, but what happened? When I needed you the most, you shamefully ran away."

You were the one who recruited me. You said that humanity only had this one chance. You said that to every Primarch, and we all participated in the Great Crusade.

But you're a liar. You not only cheated us brothers, but you cheated everyone in the empire.

Old Huang, you're looking too high and too far. Between man and god, you're neither man nor god, you're just a god-man.

Then let me ask you, are you a god?

This question clearly triggered the Emperor's underlying logic, and he immediately roared, "I am not a god!"

"Then you go around showing off, trying to be a human but not understanding how. I don't care how you view the Primarch, and I don't expect you to be like a normal human being, but even if you're just a tool, you still need to take care of yourself."

Lord of Mankind, Emperor, Malaka, so many aliases, so many titles, but who are you really?
You're not regretting it, you're just scared. You're scared that I'll quit at this crucial moment.

Not just me, we've never asked anything of you. Your so-called honor and wealth are just a joke. Of course, we need to earn money, but you can't even satisfy our most basic needs.

I bet you don't even know what that thing is.

"It comes down to the same question: since you call yourself our father, why don't you understand people's hearts?"

The emperor remained silent, a sorrow he had never felt before echoing in his heart. As a primitive psionic being who had grown up wildly since childhood, he had lived to this day in a daze.

He never imagined that Mordred would say such things, but the first murder in human history occurred, and he was present in every corner of human history.

He could deceive everyone, even himself, but looking at all the Primarchs who came after hearing the commotion, and at their scrutinizing eyes, the man named Neos felt uneasy for the first time.

A tragic childhood requires a lifetime to heal; what if there is no childhood at all?

The emperor's life can be described as a triumphant dragon, but he was also a yellow-haired man riding a ghost fire, a morally bankrupt deadbeat, and a scumbag with negative emotional intelligence.

He was always making plans and having dreams, but dreams and plans ultimately need to be realized by people.

One by one, his old friends who were immortals left him, and even the last one, Olpeson, could not tolerate his terrible personality.

Neos, who had never experienced the warmth of a family, is now a father, and moreover, he has doubled that number, with a total of 21 Primarchs.

He instinctively glanced at Macardo, who always seemed to offer a solution at times like these, but this time, Macardo shook his head. The Emperor sensed that if he couldn't answer this question, darkness would await him, but he truly didn't know.

"I... I don't know, but I have never treated you as a tool."

"Whether it's the Dream Ship or the Royal Palace, I have built a room for each of you that belongs to you."

As long as the Great Expedition succeeds and my plan is realized, I will have time to deal with internal problems.

I have arranged a future for everyone: Ferrus can become a craftsman, and Johnson can become a knight.

We could lease an entire estate; Mortarion could grow crops, and Saint Jerez could make wine. You loved fruit, I've always remembered that.

We can retire to a garden world. I've already found that world, and I've even left you, you ambitious boy Guilliman, a huge farm.

Vulcan will do the work, and Ruth will guard the house. I haven't lied to you; I've never treated you as tools.

Even your offspring have been provided for; the Empire will always need the Space Marines to protect it.

"Then why didn't you tell us?"

The one who spoke was the Khan, whose brilliant eyes, as dazzling as those of a steed on the steppe, reminded the emperor of his lightning.

The man's previously fluent speech suddenly stopped, and he fell silent again, looking like a weasel with extreme social anxiety curled up in a ball.

That's just how weasels are; if their mouths were really useful, so many messes wouldn't have happened.

"Forget it, Chagatai, you can't explain it to him even if you ask him. It would be a miracle if he could. Since things have come to this, let's go back and eat."

Watching his sons leave one by one, the emperor felt as if his heart was being torn apart. He sat there in a daze, but then a tall figure came to stand in front of him.

"Number twelve?"

Anglong's face darkened, but he still helped the emperor up: "Father, if you don't know how to speak, then speak less. Actually, my second brother doesn't hate you at all; he's just feeling uncomfortable."

"Then me?"

"Father, are you trying to say that you didn't answer that question? Actually, you already did. What we need is nothing more than a sense of security."

We were supposed to have a meal, but we ended up drinking tea for two hours straight.

My second brother is like that, so proud and arrogant. Just thinking about how nagging my father is makes me feel bad.

However, I still want to advise my father: please act like a decent human being from now on. You can do this once or twice, but not a third time. If you pull this stunt again, you'll definitely force our team to withdraw.

"then you?"

Angron flicked his braid and replied, maneuvering his mecha body:

"Father, look how anxious you are. Do we even need to ask who to choose for the team? You won't want to hear it anyway, so please don't ask, so as not to upset you."

As for why I was the one who stayed, I didn't want to either. It's just that I can sense other people's emotions.

"Sweetie, don't make things difficult for me."

Supported by Angron, he arrived at the reception room and saw everyone staring at him. Although he still wore that smug grin, this time the Emperor's smile was incredibly genuine.

"Oh dear, you've really put me in a terrible situation! Quickly bring up the food, I'm starving."

Mordred clapped her hands, and a team of canine chefs pushed food carts to the group, distributing meals to each Primarch.

When the Emperor lifted the lid of his meal, he found not a lavish spread like the other Primarchs, but a large bowl of onions.

"What? Old Huang, don't you love onions the most? Eat them!"

"Could I have some dipping sauce?"

Upon hearing this, everyone laughed. "You want dipping sauce? Dream on!"

"Just tell me whether you want to eat or not?"

Glancing at Mordred's still scrutinizing gaze, the Emperor had no choice but to pick up an onion and stuff it into his mouth, shouting "Delicious!" as he munched on the scallion.

"Like it?"

"like."

"Why are you crying, Old Man Huang?"

"I'm excited."

"Rambo, quickly bring His Majesty another pot."

(End of this chapter)