Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 321 (O_o) How did the Empire become like this?

If Mordred is most like anyone, it is undoubtedly Ildar, as the weasel himself admitted, and even Horus can attest to this.

After all, during the years Horus and Mordred were like brothers, they truly witnessed firsthand how Erda brutally abused Makara. These two madmen had transcended the realm of humanity, choosing sex over godhood.

Frankly speaking, the various abstract operations in Greek mythology are not simply the product of human imagination; they may even be realistic depictions.

Who knows, on some dark and stormy night, the crazy couple might want to do something exciting and end up turning into a cow.

But none of that matters. What matters is that Azmodari can't see Mordred's true face at all.

A little golden retriever, short-tempered, ruthless, and obsessed with saving face, he likes to draw his knife and fight each other. He was once an Imperial War Marshal, deeply trusted by the Emperor, knows so many little secrets, and most importantly, he can teleport.

Who could this be? This is none other than the Imperial Warmaster, Lord of Caliban, Knight among Knights, Man among Man, the great First Legion Primarch Lion King!

It couldn't possibly be Horus, the rebellious Primarch who doesn't even have a head, could it? Even if it were Feralus, it shouldn't be; at least you should have a head.

Actually, Mordred had already noticed someone on the roof when he was talking about the Imperial Guards. After all, Mordred had been a spymaster for several years. But he initially thought it was a Salamander and never imagined it was a Dark Angel.
Using her sense of smell, Mordred detected the green paint on Azmodan and didn't smell the stench from the Deathguard, so the only one with green paint was the Salamander.

After all, Mordred's memories are still stuck 1 years ago, when the Dark Angel's paint job was black. The only difference between it and Atlas was that the Dark Angel's paint job was black with a hint of green, while Atlas's paint job was black with a hint of red.

Therefore, it is quite reasonable for errors in judgment to occur.

But Mordred soon realized something was wrong, thinking, "I was just about to mention Vulcan's Dark Sword, and you lizard brat still haven't shown up."

It is indeed empiricism that kills people. After Forgrim finished speaking, Mordred had no choice but to accept it, no matter how unwilling he was to believe it.

Damn, it's Dark Angel with a cucumber paint job! It looks terrible now! I can't beat it at all.

Without the slightest hesitation, Mordred activated the scrap portion of Zhuang Sen's body within her.

Sure enough, after sensing the connection with the gene seed, Mordred was immediately blessed with a healthy baby boy.

“That’s right, I am Leon El-Johnson, Lord of Caliban, second…”

"Hush, Father, be careful what you say. The First Legion has no secrets, and the Second Empire doesn't exist at all."

Looking at the loyal little can in front of him, Mordred was already cursing in his heart. He thought to himself, "Zhuang Sen, you bastard, you stole my idea! I am the founder of the Second Legion!"
What have you all been doing all these years since I left?
So you're not from the First Legion?

Shut up. From now on, I will teach you Atlas's first lesson—fishing in troubled waters. Watch carefully and learn well.

In the meantime, you can go watch cartoons.

To prevent the silly Jeanne from giving herself away, Mordred directly shared with her the complete set of Ultraman Tiga and Tom and Jerry content from his memories.

However, on the surface, Mordred still reached out and slapped Azmodan on the head. This action instantly overwhelmed Azmodan with a huge sense of happiness, and he had to do his best to suppress his smile to avoid losing his composure in front of the Primarch.

“You’re right, loyalty that isn’t absolute is absolutely disloyal. Hold your head high. Our First Legion is the benchmark among all legions. Take that death grin off your face right now.” These words only strengthened Azmodari’s belief in Mored’s identity. Look at that tone, look at that demeanor, and that habit of slapping people on the head at the drop of a hat—who else could it be but the Lion King?
Others are unclear, but Azmodari was an interrogation priest who had met with Legion Commander Nemir.

The elder had already said that his Primarch's signature move wasn't the longsword in his hand, but the Peerless Lion Flying Head Fist. Others might have different opinions, but Elder Nemir would never be wrong, since he had indeed been beaten up.

As for why the Lion King would appear in this form, Azmo said, "Mind your own business."

Perhaps noticing something amiss in the boy's eyes, Mordred offered an explanation: "I have been asleep for countless years, unable even to retain my physical form. I had no choice but to take over this body."

From now on, you must treat this sister named Jeanne with the same respect you have shown me.

Now, tell me everything you know. I must integrate into the current empire as soon as possible. By the way, what's your name again?

“Azmode, Father, my name is Azmode!”

Glancing at Azmodari's distinctive hood and the strong religious symbols, Mordred felt as if she had swallowed a dead fly.

"Great name! It sounds optimistic and positive. You must be a cheerful and open-minded child."

Mordred guessed correctly; the Azmodari before him was the one from the depths of his memory. The only difference was that the current Azmodari was not as obsessed as the one in his memory, and surprisingly, he was to his liking.

But thinking about it the other way around, someone who can connect with Mordred on the same wavelength is probably not a normal person.

Under Mordred's extraordinary charm, Azmodari revealed everything he should and shouldn't know without Mordred even trying to elicit information.

But the more Mordred learned, the darker his face became, and his emotions became increasingly unstable. In the 1 years since he left, the Empire has completely deviated from his and the Emperor's vision and has begun to rampage towards a cesspool.

Mordred was furious, especially after hearing about the emergence of high-class ideology and the fact that Space Marines were constantly being controlled and ultimately used as dogs by mortals.

"How did the Empire become like this? You can even stand in this cesspool, what about the legions? Are the things you unfilial descendants holding in your hands firewood sticks?"

"Ah, Father, you are unaware that there are no longer any legions. Instead, they were broken down into warbands ten thousand years ago. You have indeed been asleep for far too long."

"Warband?"

Azmodari nodded, indicating that the Legion was ancient history. Ten thousand years ago, Imperial Regent Guilliman implemented the Astartes Codex, directly splitting the Legion into several sub-legions, which are the current Warbands.

Father, if you're interested in this, I have an unused copy of the Astartes Bible here. It's just that the paper is a bit stiff, so you'll need to crumple it up before you go to the toilet.

Looking at the Astartes Codex that Azmodan had placed in front of him, Mordred felt a mix of emotions. He then opened the cover and saw the words Guilliman had left on the title page:
[Second Brother, your contributions will never be forgotten—Robert Guilliman]

“(O_o)”

"Aaaaaah, Guilliman!"

(End of this chapter)