Warhammer: My Biological Father Emperor and My Demigod Brother

Fugen was displeased with what Evil Steel had said, and looking at his paradoxical armor forged by Vastor, he spoke sarcastically:

"Then take off that armor, and we'll fight? To put it bluntly—"

Egang interrupted, "Then don't say it."

No sooner had the steely words fallen than the handsome young man clutched his stomach and burst into laughter, even shedding a few tears.

“My brother, Peturabo, how wonderful it would have been if you could have openly refuted others ten thousand years ago. But I love you, my brother, no matter what strange form you take.”

"We still came this far to help me."

The boy stopped and turned around.

He stretched out his hand, and a magnificent purplish-black aura swept out, stirring up the wind and clouds.

On a planet that shouldn't even have an atmosphere, the mighty forces of nature were stirred up.

Specks of purple starlight twinkled in the sky, connected by strange threads that formed constellations.

A serpentine body stretched upwards, and a four-armed demon god, each wielding a sharp blade, stood amidst the sea of ​​stars.

"Are you trying to scare me?"

The armor of paradox emitted terrifying roars from its various gas channels, spewing out not steam, but materialized psionic lightning.

Fugen hooked his finger, long and slender, white, and gently tapped it on the chin of Evil Steel's helmet, chuckling softly:

"It seems more like you're trying to scare me. Okay, the reminiscing is over. If we both try our best to pretend to be like we used to be, it's not very respectful to each other."

Fugen's body gradually grew taller, his enormous serpentine form arching over his upper body as he looked down at his brother:

“I am the third, you are the fourth, Peturabo. This time, Guilliman’s offspring will not have another chance to snatch him from our hands.”

Bang bang bang!

The engine roared, steam exploded, and Paradox swung his fist, smashing it into the face that had transformed from a handsome young man into a lunatic. Then he leaped high into the air and pinned the man beneath him.

"Change back to normal!"

This posture, this ugliness after ascending to demonic status—

It also represents the harm they once inflicted upon themselves.

Boom! Boom! Boom—

Paradox kept throwing punches, knocking Fugen to the ground. The power boxing gloves were firing at full power, pressing Fugen so hard he couldn't lift his head.

Blood was splattered all over Fu Gen's face, and several teeth flew out.

It seems that Evil Steel wanted to vent the pain of being beaten like this.

The force of the punch gradually turned into a blur, and even the Primarch's vision was powerless to judge the frequency.

Fugen was even willing to admit that such punching speed was relatively rare among the many forces that struck his body.

If only we could move it to another place—

Above the heavens, the gathered sons of the emperor were still playing role-playing games with their father, looking no different from the Great Crusade era, even their chaotic corruption was concealed.

So much so that the Chaos Space Marines gathered under Evil Steel's command initially thought that a purple-painted Imperial legion had come to annihilate them.

The two Legions were able to detect the fluctuations of the battle between the Primarchs, but they both agreed that it was not a battle, but rather that Fuggen was atoning for Peturabo with his own body.

The imperial princes, having been corrupt for so long, inevitably contemplated such a scenario.

They believed that their father was capable of such a thing.

"Should we go down and film, or add background music?"

The princes whispered among themselves; in the past, they had a set procedure for dealing with this situation.

But while his father insisted they pretend, he himself let loose and played around.

The princes had no choice but to look at the ragtag army opposite them, which made the other side wonder if the princes might actually be turning against them and trying to get rid of them.

Fortunately, the conflict did not erupt. Before long, the princes received a communication from their father, who dispatched a spaceship to welcome the two Primarchs back.

Judging by the time, it took about four hours, which is a bit of a shame. Even the weakest prince among them wouldn't have lasted that long.

As the spaceship arrived, the two Primarchs disembarked side by side, each in human form and clad in heavy armor.

Fugen spread his arms and transformed the "ragtag army" into a uniform Iron Warrior paint scheme.

The next moment, a small portion of the fighting gang instantly fled, fearing that if they were too slow, they would be killed before the fight even started.

Meanwhile, he had his warband's psionicists dispel Fugen's disguise, Iron Warrior paint job, and such—something he never wanted in his life.

Don't come over here!

The Black Legion's emissary frowned. Primarchs always wielded their power so recklessly, and Astartes was currently nothing more than a tool to be manipulated at will.

Even the plans of the Great Warmaster Abaddon had to be left with considerable room for maneuver, to accommodate the Primarchs' "spur-of-the-moment ideas".

Two-thirds of the "ragtag army" remained, which wasn't a big problem; this was the number of legions originally planned for Peturabo to command.

At this moment, the two "legions" finally assembled and remained silent before their Primarch.

Fugen raised his arms and shouted:

"Our country is being controlled by despicable villains. The empire has become so corrupt that it is time for us to turn the tide!"

"Let us build up our unfinished achievements, so that the one who truly deserves to sit on the throne may enjoy the honor he is worthy of!"

Launch an attack on the Empire!

This time, Guilliman will never return!

More than 10,000 years ago, in Terra, beneath the royal palace.

“My father said the generator set hadn’t been delivered yet, so I found some materials and made a temporary one.”

Dorn was walking in, but Guilliman and their father did not follow, so it seemed the game was over.

With the lights on throughout Xiao Pei's room, the prison-like atmosphere instantly transformed into a magnificent space. One wall was filled with various mechanical tools suitable for Primarchs to use, while the other side displayed art tools.

“My father has prepared accommodations for each of us in Terra, but not many people know about it, and the construction is progressing slowly. I will follow up on it separately later.”

As Dorn spoke, he nodded to Aaron.

“Guilliman went to argue with his father. He interrupted the game of chess and even dared to argue with his father until they were red in the face, saying that it was a disgrace for him to command half of the rebel army and that his brothers would never stoop to that level.”

Peturabo was already leaning against the wall, letting Aaron apply the medicine to him, his mouth full of disdain:

"So what? He might as well just throw me in jail. Ouch—that really hurts."

"But Guilliman is alright. My impression of him has improved a bit. As long as he doesn't argue with me, I can't win against his words."

Aaron looked helpless, put down what he was holding, and said:

"Dorn, come here. I'm feeling sleepy and can't stay here for long."

Dorn took the bottles and jars, glanced at them, and casually remarked:

"Many medications are just placebos for us, and these—"

Mechanical lubricating oil.

Peturabo, you couldn't find any medicine, so you just used this to trick your brother into leaving it to treat your wounds, right?

Dorn felt Little Pete's gaze on him and ultimately did not reveal the truth.

Chapter 229 The Wound of the Black King, An Introduction to Hades' Warp Theory (3K)

After handing it over to Dorn, Aaron, unable to hide his drowsiness, bid farewell to the two and vanished.

Only Dorn remained, holding the machine lubricant, and surprisingly, a slight smile appeared on his face:

"My brother, should I continue applying this to you?"

Xiao Pei jumped up and snatched the lubricant: "I'll throw it into that old man's food, he won't be able to tell anything anyway."

"My brother just said that old man can eat anything, and he has a secret he can't tell anyone: he can't catch any fish. I'm going to make him a fishing rod and give it to him in front of us brothers! I'm going to humiliate him!"

"Oh, right, after they finish arguing, call Guilliman over. I'll teach him something."

Dorn simply nodded and didn't ask any further questions.

Only Peturab himself began to consider what to do if half of the legions were to rebel in the future, and it was he who rebelled.

After all, he had actually met Guilliman, who would later shoulder heavy responsibilities, and the Imperial Guard who had treated him very badly.

He may have really made a mistake.

In that case, we need to tell Guilliman something beforehand so that he can save humanity.

How exactly did he develop this personality?

Never mind, I guess this is my way of doing everything I can to save the world.

Dorn helped Perturabo tidy up his lodgings and gently patted him on the shoulder:

"We will stand together, brother, and we will never be apart."

42K, 600 BC, Terra.

Anda and Black King were both fishing, but neither of them caught anything.

The difference is that Anda really can't catch anything.

The Black King, on the other hand, prevented the fish from taking the bait.

When the Imperial Guards realized that it was His Majesty himself who was unwilling to let the fish take the bait, all efforts to help His Majesty catch the fish were abandoned.

Perhaps, their emperor only needs to watch the fishhook bob in the water to pass the time.

Only Kaul, who occasionally came to maintain and improve the golden wheelchair, knew that the curse of the sea god had long since dissipated.

But if Your Majesty hasn't caught a fish yet, can you pretend that you are still living in the era when you were with the Crown Prince?

Was this skeleton also waiting? Suddenly, a disdainful voice appeared beside it:

"This is breakfast for today. Remember to wash the dishes after you finish eating."

Unfortunately, His Majesty's tear glands had clearly dried up, and Kaul's attempt to collect His Majesty's tears had failed.

He was hesitant to create a mechanical android named Aaron to provoke the Black King, fearing he would be dismantled into parts.