Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 353 Thank you, General Cannon.

Perhaps for Hannibal, hemorrhoids were like race-sized intestines.

But to Guilliman, the Holy Terra of today is like that rotten intestine—it looks smelly, smells delicious, and tastes bitter.

As the saying goes, the most important thing after the war is to divide the spoils. As the ancient capital of the empire, Terra may seem like a den of iniquity, but it's still quite lucrative.

Because of the harsh environment of Hallowed Terra, which has no sea, water can only be delivered by ships capturing comets from the asteroid belt. This makes Terra a very typical hive world.

Its population density is unparalleled in the world. All 13 existing hive cities are inhabited by people, and this does not even include the inhabitants of the wilderness and the bottom hive, who may not even be human. If a census were to be conducted in Terra, it would be an absolute disaster.

But now everyone isn't here for a census; they're here to raid homes. In this godforsaken place like Terra, anyone with a little power will flock to the top, becoming either a noble or an oligarch with wealth beyond measure.

After all, in Terra, where land is incredibly valuable, unless you're quite wealthy, you can't even afford a single floor tile on the upper floors. Ordinary minor nobles can only afford a small single room in the Central-Northern Industrial Zone, or even live in the Lower Nest.

In this giant steel metropolis with billions of people, everyone wants to climb up the ladder, and everyone wants to experience the ultimate thrill of standing above thousands of others.

Only by standing above everyone else can one have an unobstructed view of the sky, an artificial dome covered with various green plants, and fresh air airlifted from other worlds.

Some are born in Rome, while others are born mules and horses. But with the arrival of the three Primarchs and their Astartes, these noble lords finally learned what it means to fall harder the higher you climb.

Without compromise, not a single one was spared. Atlas was both brutal and cunning, and the Dark Angel was both cunning and brutal. Escape was impossible; they simply slaughtered people in droves.

If we kill every single one of these nobles, there will definitely be innocent people among them. But if we kill every other one, there will definitely be many who escape.

At first, the Ultramarines didn't quite understand, thinking that these cousins ​​were too brutal. They thought it was one thing to kill the ringleader, but why kill the entire family, regardless of age or gender? They believed they should act according to the law.

It's said that Makula is the light of the empire. During the Great Rebellion, the Lion King's attempt to requisition Makula's satellites was met with protests from the people, the reason for which was that they couldn't watch variety shows.

These giant blueberries were incredibly naive, as naive as their genetic father, Guilliman, but they soon stopped thinking that way.

The Ultramarines found it unbelievable that these eternal nobles could buy half a warship with just a single piece of fruit from their homes.

It is important to understand that people cannot imagine things they have never understood.

This tiny fruit is worth half a warship. If these resources were exchanged for supplies, countless soldiers' lives could be saved. And this thing is a dessert for noble ladies.

At Atlas's suggestion, and under the watchful eyes of the Dark Angels, some Ultramarines tasted the fruit, and then they became somewhat depressed.

"Did I just eat half a warship in one bite?"

"That's right, if you eat a few more bites, you might be able to collect enough for a Cobra destroyer."

"Why? This stuff doesn't taste good either."

"Because of its prestige!"

The Ultra Warrior company commander instantly understood, and what followed was an indescribable rage. From then on, not a single Ultra Warrior dared to waste words, and they killed more ruthlessly than anyone else.

"Rivers of blood" is an adjective, but it can also be a noun. Under the combined cleansing of the three warbands, the once magnificent haunted city spire was covered in blood, which went up to ankle-deep.

This was only a minor offense; Mordred, in a moment of kindness, granted them a quick death, then their souls were burned into fel crystals. Those with good physical constitutions were used as experimental subjects or demoted to slavery for labor and reflection.

As for those who have committed unforgivable crimes, things are much better. Even the lightest sentence is burning at the stake with white phosphorus, or being turned into a penitent servant. They can't even die if they want to; with Atlas around, even if you die, he can pull your soul back and continue to torment you.

In an instant, panic gripped the entire Holy Terra. Some fled for their lives, some surrendered, some fought to the death, and some even tried to bribe Astartes.

I don't know what this person was thinking, actually trying to bribe an Astartes. Maybe he's some kind of mentally challenged offspring from multiple generations of inbreeding. I'll just kill your whole family, then all that stuff will be mine!

Such people can only be described as stupid. There are even more abstract options, such as seduction. After failing, they are still not giving up, thinking that the angel has unique tastes. So they go straight to the point and send several beautiful and delicate "beauties" with the looks of Fulgrim to Guilliman.

This allowed Mordred and Johnson to mock Guilliman for an entire day, and as a result, the entire family, from top to bottom, was wiped out. Not only were nine generations of their family exterminated, but thirteen generations were exterminated.

Of course, the Great Purge is not about mindless slaughter; it's about slow, deliberate, and planned killing.

Mordred is quite democratic when it comes to those unfortunate souls who get caught up in the mess. If they confess everything, they'll be given a chance to live, and that chance is the Imperial tradition of the three-way slap.

If you say that the 3-in-1 draw is not traditional, then Emperor only plays the 11-in-1 draw.

Alright, Master Mo is a democratic man. If it's a 10-out-of-10 cut, then it's a 10-out-of-10 cut. Nine out of ten will die, and only one can live.

As for your reluctance to confess, that's even easier. We'll just take you to a dark room and give you a major memory restoration spell. You won't even be able to faint or pretend to be dead. When you wake up, your cola will still be ice-cold.

Even if they're die-hards, we're not afraid. Psionic telepathy, Atlas's soul-searching, Dark Angel's memory extraction—there's bound to be one that suits you. "Second brother, raiding this place is truly a wonderful thing!"

Having never done it before, and being used as a scapegoat by Atlas, now that Guilliman is involved, it feels really good.

You should know that Guilliman became depressed after returning to Terra and seeing the Emperor. He even went on a self-funded expedition to play single-player mode. The assets he has just obtained from raiding are already equivalent to all the resources he spent on his journey from Terra to Baal.

To have a good time, Guilliman even took on the role of accountant, laughing himself awake in his sleep.

"Brother, you've really looked carefully. The parchment in your hand isn't just a string of numbers. It's the start-up capital for the future reconstruction of Atlas. If it's missing even a decimal point, I'll have to say you're incredibly ambitious!"

"What ambition? We are doing this for the country and the people."

"Haha, you're right, our cause is righteous and it is the will of the people."

"Speaking of which, Zhuang Sen, it's one thing to stay silent, but why are you messing with my good apprentice? Jeanne, hurry up and bring your second senior brother back!"

The Lion King remained silent, only fiddling with the dog's head in his hand. Poor Rambo was just a spirit, and was being handled by the Lion King like a walnut, his fur becoming patina. Then, his junior sister held him in her hand and rubbed him repeatedly.

"Nothing, I was just thinking about how to face my father. According to Guilliman, my father has Alzheimer's, and Rambo has confirmed it, even worse than I had expected."

Do you think your father might be like you were back then...?

The Lion King didn't say what he was going to say next, but both of them knew what he wanted to say.

After spending a long time with Mordred, the two had already regained their memories from back then, and it could even be said that Mordred was the real MVP during the Great Rebellion.

Compared to being infamous for being written in the Astartes by Guilliman, Horus fared even worse. He was first fed to the four little ones until he was turned into a cream puff, then became a puppet to launch a rebellion, and finally was killed by Mordred with a single blow.

If it had only gone this far, it would have been alright, since that was how the plan was designed back then. But then Mordred was force-fed by the four vendors until he became a bloated sack, foaming at the mouth and losing his mind, only able to shout "Aba aba" incoherently.

The damage caused by Mordred's loss of control was unprecedented. The four merchants were wiped out by the Burning Legion, and the Empire even experienced a divine war, forcing humanity to cooperate with Chaos.

Even though Mordred chose to end her own life in the end, the effects of this divine calamity did not disappear, giving rise to a vortex that was no less powerful than the Eye of Terror.

The rest of the story is pretty familiar: the half-dead old man Huang was kicked and beaten to his knees by the four gods, losing 99% of his life. His buttocks were stuck on the red line, neither up nor down, so he could only be used as a golden toilet ornament.

Of the three who knew the truth, Mordred was deactivated and started over, the Emperor was unable to speak, and Horus was gone. He couldn't even clear his name. So even if he could speak, someone would have to believe him!

"Back then, I had no choice. It was all because those four idiots on the other side messed things up. They clearly had no brains, but they relied on their brute force to go all in and made me an idiot."

Who could have imagined they would join forces? If even one of them were missing, I would have had a chance to self-destruct prematurely. It was just too fast; so fast that I couldn't even react before I was suddenly forced to take a swig.

The two accepted Mordred's explanation, just as they knew that Vulcan and Mortarian had not betrayed them willingly.

But Mordred could end her life by taking her own life, so could the Emperor?
Johnson dared not think about it, and he had been deliberately avoiding the issue, while Guilliman thought about it too much, which is why he became depressed.

Ten thousand years! That's a full ten thousand years! It's impossible to know how many people there are on Terra, let alone how many people there are in the entire Empire.

What would an emperor be like if such a massive amount of prayers continued for 1 years? Not to mention that some of these believers are not even human; there are four-armed god emperors, two-armed god emperors, six-armed god emperors, and even two-root god emperors.

This is relatively normal. There are also Roman she-wolf, gentle catgirl, Ohm Messiah, and some orcs even think that the big golden guy is the eldest brother after messing with the second brother, since if there is a second brother, there must be an eldest brother!
With such a complex set of beliefs, the emperor was shattered more than the soup in the angel sauce; who knows how many consciousnesses were inside that body?

Guilliman, a psionic Muggle, might not be able to see it, but the Lion King isn't Guilliman, so how could he not see it? With just a slight glance, he saw a huge, dark, terrifying star.

This isn't a question of whether anyone will die; it's a question of everyone dying. The four peddlers are even more afraid than humans, fearing that the cursed one will be unable to hold on and will collapse.

"Let's make a decision. When should we go see Father?"

"Tomorrow, remember to bring all your gear and ram your big cannon at the door."

"Isn't this bad?"

"What's wrong with it?"

Faced with his two brothers' questions, Guilliman quickly shook his head, saying that's not what he meant. He meant that one general cannon might not be enough, and that they should dismantle the railgun.

"..."

"Okay!" ×2
(End of this chapter)