Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 386 Fellow villager, don't turn back, I am Saint Gilles!
"Mordred, it may sound greedy, but you know me. I'm just so curious, what gift did you give Guilliman?"

"It's nothing, I just think Guilliman is bored staying in Terra. Didn't you see that last time? Mrs. Euton told me to take good care of Guilliman."

As the saying goes, filial piety is the most important of all virtues. Guilliman's mother is my mother, so how could I watch my good brother suffer alone? That's why I gave birth to a daughter for him.

Upon hearing this, even the Lion King was momentarily stunned, and it took him a while to recover: "Ultraman, right? I get it! Don't think that I look savage, but I'm actually a civilized person, and I understand technology too."

The Dark Angels had conducted experiments, but the female Space Marines exhibited inconsistent performance due to the genetic seed and hormonal reactions, making them far too cost-effective and unable to adapt to the intensity of warfare during the Great Crusade.

So this technology was devolved. You have your Spartans, and I have my Sentinels, so you created a female Space Marine for Guilliman, right?

"..."

"I understand, I understand. You always come up with new tricks, that's human nature, right?"

"..."

"At least it's not an alien!"

Now Mordred could speak up, saying, "Don't worry, she's definitely not some eight-legged alien. She's a proper demi-human. As long as Guilliman is human, then she's a demi-human. And look at Evelynn, she looks real. You have to believe me!"
"Believe it for nothing! The person Zhuang Sen was most worried about was Mordred. He finally understood why the Emperor always gave Mordred a good beating whenever he saw him."

Such wanton manipulation of genes would have resulted in anyone else being dragged out and shot long ago.

He and his Dark Angels went to great lengths to keep these little secrets. Fenris has no wolves, the Randan aliens don't exist, the Holy Blood Angels don't drink blood, and there are people inside the Fearless Hand of Steel—all of this was covered up by him. But now you're pulling this stunt.

"So, would you like to use the online platform?"

"The Net Path?" Looking at the illusory and hazy hyperdimensional space outside, and the Atlas Eldar astronauts commanding the fleet on the bridge, Zhuang Sen shamefully compromised:
“But Father won’t agree, I won’t agree, and Guilliman won’t agree. You’ve gone too far. We could turn a blind eye before, but if we open this door…”

"What will happen?"

In a dark corner, the two big men stared at each other. Through those golden pupils, the Lion King seemed to see a mirror.

He knew this was Mordred's characteristic, just as he himself could walk in the jungle. Mordred inherited the Emperor's charisma, and the Emperor's charisma would reflect the scene that the observer most wanted to see.

In Johnson's eyes, the Emperor was a monarch, while in Horus' eyes, the Emperor was...

Well! Zhuang Sen dared not think, nor did he want to think, what the emperor would look like in Horus's eyes. Just thinking about it made him feel like he had suffered a 1-point blow to his soul.

Although he inherited traits, Mordred was slightly different from the Emperor. What Johnson saw in his brother's eyes was another version of himself, not a lion, but someone with Ruth's cunning, an angel's holiness, Magnus's wisdom, and Dorne's eloquence...

Zhuang Sen couldn't describe it, but he knew it wasn't him; it was Mordred. And similarly, that figure was also himself—a lion that had grown from Mordred's body, but more like a hyena that would stop at nothing.

"The yellow weasel made a backup when it created the original gene. We each have our own roles but are also one. You were the first to be born, and I was the second."

You can fool others, but don't fool yourself. Otherwise, why do you think we're friends? Horus is only friends because the yellow-skinned ones are biased; we're true brothers. You can tell just by my name.

"Kings do not meet kings, generals do not meet generals; you are the lord of knights, and so am I."

Zhuang Sen hesitated. No matter how much he pretended, he could never deceive himself. He was that barbarian who prioritized efficiency and acted on instinct.

So what are the chances of success?

"Thirty percent!"

"Too low. Those who are not of our kind will surely have different hearts. The more Spirit Race members die, the better. We must not only infiltrate physically, but also comprehensively infiltrate through culture, customs, beliefs, and even all aspects."

"Don't worry, as long as half of this empire's territory is stabilized, I will slowly devour these pointy-eared creatures and then thoroughly humiliate that scoundrel. I simply can't stand those dry bean sprouts; green beans are much better!"

"What green beans? Boss, it seems we've reached our destination."

The lights came on, illuminating the two burly men huddled in a dark corner, plotting their scheme. Seeing Rambo, who had appeared out of nowhere, Zhuang Sen instantly felt confident; after all, the dog-man had already proven the plan's feasibility. "Nothing much. We'll have green bean noodles tonight. After we finish, come with me to find someone. Remember to shout out the menu this time; don't lose face."

Mordred said he wanted to eat braised noodles with green beans, and that's exactly what happened that night. Even the taciturn Dark Angel thought it was time for the Legion to recruit some dog-man chefs. Drinking plain white porridge every day was fine, but it would be better to have a few bites of something better to change things up.

As the gates of the network reopened, the Dark Angel's Unyielding Truth and the Atlas New Nippori appeared in an unfamiliar star sector.

Compared to what was initially thought to be a barren land, Invit was not as backward as imagined; on the contrary, it was exceptionally well-developed, not only preserving its most primitive landscape but also developing into a pocket empire.

Seeing this, Johnson understood why Dorne had hidden his homeland away; it was a sanctuary, and Dorne's final act of care for his people.

The Khan thought the Empire was a cesspool, and Dorne thought so too, but Dorne went even further, directly hiding the location of his homeland and not acting as rigidly as he did.

"So I still don't understand why Dorn would tell you and Magnus the location of his hometown. What kind of life-or-death friendship do you have?"

"Want to know? Hey, I'm not telling you. This is a little secret between the three of us. I promised them I would never tell anyone. So give up on that idea. But then again, if you really want to know, you can eat this fruit."

Having said that, Mordred, who was walking on the ice field, pulled out a large, fresh, red fruit from behind her. Despite the fact that the surrounding temperature was high enough to freeze a person to death, the fruit was completely unaffected.

For some reason, upon seeing the fruit, Zhuang Sen inexplicably felt it tasted delicious. Coupled with his natural instincts, he simply picked it up and popped it into his mouth.
"Hmm? It tastes so good! It's supposed to be fruit, but it tastes like meat. When I take a bite, the juice bursts out of my mouth. If Saint Gillespie saw this, he would definitely like it. Give me another one."

Zhuang Sen, who was showing off his fruit, ate with gusto, truly wanting more and more with each bite. Rambo, unaware of what was going on, also wanted a taste, but Mordred slapped his hand.

"Rambo, you're a canine, not a dog. This thing really doesn't suit you."

"Why? This isn't chocolate."

"Yeah, why are you still hoarding your food? Come on, Rambo, I have some more. Remember to introduce me to a few dog-people when you get back. By the way, what's the name of this fruit?"

Seeing Zhuang Sen and Rambo eating as they walked, Mordred couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of what might happen next. She pulled out a basket of fruit and handed it to the Dark Angels around them who also wanted a taste.

"This thing is called Magnus fruit. As you can tell from the name, Magnus was the first to discover it. I named it because the fruit is so red and big, it looks just like a sunburnt Oglin."

"That's certainly apt."

"That's right. People who eat this Magnus fruit will be like Magnus—they may not be very wise, but they will definitely be extraordinary."

Moreover, this thing, well, it generally only grows in subspace; normal people can't even eat it if they wanted to. I advise you not to ask why.

If it were anyone else, they definitely wouldn't ask, but the key is that they are Dark Angels, and they have reached a point of obsession with little secrets, so they definitely wouldn't let go of this opportunity to get to the bottom of things.

Three minutes later, Mordred was speechless as he looked at the group of big guys kneeling on the ground, frantically trying to make their throats up.

"Get up quickly, we've arrived at our destination. It's been so easy! The Frozen Throne is right ahead. I was the one who helped build this fortress."

I sensed a power; there is definitely a Primarch in this. Watch your behavior. We are now Imperial Fist returning home for a visit, while you, Johnson, are an Oglin.

"I am Eugrim, and what are you?"

"Nonsense, your reputation is earned by yourself when you're out in the world. At least have some self-awareness, okay? Which one, Dark Angel or Atlas, looks like a good person?"

So of course I am Saint Gilles.

Having said that, Mordred no longer hid, and a pair of pure white wings stretched out from his back. Coupled with his appearance and demeanor, everyone who saw him would have to call him an archangel.

"Don't turn around, fellow countryman, I am Saint Gilles!"

(End of this chapter)