Warhammer: My Biological Father Emperor and My Demigod Brother

This design facilitates harvesting crops over a large area, similar to the posture of someone carrying a heavy machine gun that I saw in Xiao Pei's factory. The grips of both hands are vertically distributed front and back, allowing for a stable triangle formed by relying on the strength of the shoulders and waist.

Aaron didn't need to listen to his father's nagging; he could figure these things out on his own.

After all, even ordinary people unconsciously place their hands on the bottom front of the box when carrying it, and the same principle applies to the drawbridges hanging down from the city gates.

So his younger brother was a farmer living in a world of poison gas.

Great! Finally, someone in the family knows how to farm.

However, their family will likely be wandering around for the next few years and won't stay in one place for too long, so it will be difficult to use this skill after learning it.

"Motalian?"

Aaron asked tentatively, having learned roughly about his brothers' birth world from Marum.

Apart from the second and eleventh sons, Marum couldn't name them. Without instructions, Aaron could identify the other brothers.

Mortarian frowned. To be honest, he had rather sparse eyebrows, and they were light-colored. If you didn't have good eyesight, you might think he didn't have eyebrows at all.

Aaron was still focused on how his younger brothers were looking, while Dorn was doing fairly well despite the harsh environment.

It's quite remarkable that Mortarian could maintain a human-like appearance in such a toxic gas environment.

So why does he keep wearing a mask? It doesn't seem to have any air valve or filter to aid breathing, so it's not very practical.

Could it be——

Aaron became suspicious. Could it be that his younger brother had been living in such an environment for a long time and had become disfigured?

Can't think so.

Judging from the old man's personality, he might say that due to environmental factors, his nose hairs grew too thickly, acting as a filter. But this also made him look too ugly, so he had to cover his nostrils.

In either case, Aaron was in a difficult position.

He couldn't help but take the initiative to inquire:

"What's wrong with your face? Why are you wearing a mask all the time? If you want to protect yourself from poison gas, you should at least prepare professional equipment. I can help you get some, and we can gradually cover the entire world's population with it."

Aaron also remembered that Little Pepper had a factory supply chain covering the entire galaxy, and it seemed that the products of those factories would cover most of the livelihood security related to dangerous environments.

As for why those worlds need these bizarre and varied protective supplies, we need to figure out how those worlds became those grotesque things.

Mortarian's eyes were filled with utter disdain, and a laugh escaped from beneath his mask:

"I never believe in any gifts given without a reason. Only benefits obtained through planning with one's own brain and action with one's own hands are genuine."

Having said that, he swung his sickle. This man was most likely a spy sent by some warlord.

But as the scythe was swung, the blade passed over a barrier, leaving only an empty void. Mortarian retreated warily, his agile body landing on the edge of Angus's city wall.

At this moment, the bald young man on the discarded metal can had disappeared.

Chapter 397 Mortarion and Angron (3K)

Meanwhile, on the hillside above the valley, some distance from the Angus merchant camp.

Helios had already adjusted his posture so that he could be carried more comfortably by Angron, and not have his head rubbing back and forth on the ground.

But the next moment, with a loud bang, Angron beneath him turned into a pile of bubbles, bursting and disappearing into thin air.

But the inertia of physical laws still bound Helios's body forward, and he tumbled down the hillside overgrown with poisonous weeds.

Pollution and toxicity?

The sun god doesn't care about this; after all, his spiritual power naturally restrains these unclean things.

However, the impact and pain from the collision and friction caused Helios to groan in agony, his head hitting the ground countless times with a surprisingly pleasant sound.

The mighty sun god tumbled to the ground, leaving deep ruts and a fiery expanse.

On the bright side, at least this will help with purifying Barbarus's progress bar.

Using Helios as a plow to plough the entire surface of Barbaros might change the current state of pollution.

As for the issue of energy loss, there's no need to worry. He is an immortal being, a super energy source that can theoretically enable the existence of perpetual motion machines.

After some time, Helios rolled headfirst into the river near Angus. The psychic energy in his body went out, signifying his death. Like countless other corpses floating downstream, he slowly drifted towards the floating island.

In the British Dreamland, 600 BC, Aaron suddenly stood up. Fortunately, he was breathing in the slightly scorching air from the edge of a volcano, not the poisonous gas of Barbarossa.

He looked around and saw Angron, who had just woken up and was rubbing his head, also looking around. He murmured:

“Brother, I just had a dream. I dreamt of Uncle Helios. He’s in a world called Barbarus, and he might also be a Mortarionian, like us brothers. But I didn’t see him before I woke up on the way there.”

Aaron picked up Anglon, stepped off the donkey cart and the makeshift tent made of tarpaulin, and came to Marum.

The loyal butler was brushing the fifth dog's fur. There was too much volcanic ash accumulated between the fur during the day, and now that some of the debris in the air had settled, and the volcano wasn't going to erupt until the day after tomorrow, he was quickly cleaning it up.

Although this behavior seems to have no cost-effectiveness, and the volcano will inevitably erupt again, Marum always feels that if he doesn't complete these tasks every day, it's as if his life has lost its meaning.

A fire was burning beside the donkey cart wheels. This place was indeed strange; the volcano had just finished erupting that day, and the heat in the air had not yet dissipated.

But as night fell, the temperature dropped, and two completely different climates coexisted.

"Are you dreaming? Don't worry, I've got my eyes on things. There were some petty thieves who came tonight trying to steal Lao Wu and Xiao Ma, but I took care of them all."

Marum took off his work apron, which he hadn't actually owned before. Since arriving in Macedonia, Erda had given his steward some things, including this apron.

“I tied the pony up somewhere else. The fifth one doesn’t like having its own kind taking up its living space. And I feel like the pony is happy to leave us. It’s near the volcano, and I don’t know who it’s looking at.”

"Could it be that during the master's brief ride, his charm worked its magic, winning over this beast as well?"

Aaron didn't quite understand Marum's sense of humor, but nodded at the idea of ​​dreaming, and sat by the fire with Angron in his arms, yawning.

"I was a bit sleepy, and I brought Angron with me. But I was lucky; I ended up right next to Mo."

Marum's movements faltered somewhat. Every time Aaron dreamt of the young Fallen Primarch, it always impacted the worldview he had built in the past.

It seems that every corrupt Primarch is at odds with Father Guilliman, and there are some frictions between them.

Loka was like this, Fugen was like this, and Mortalian was even more so, who even "not long ago" organized a plague war directly against the Five Hundred Worlds.

Okay, maybe we can drop the "degenerate" prefix; the father and all the brothers didn't get along.

Marum couldn't help but laugh at his own idea, muttering:

"It seems you've run into some trouble. As far as I know, Mortalian's character is difficult to summarize, and I can't offer you any help."

Aaron played with Angron's two little hands in his arms, warming himself by the fire, and said with a wry smile:

“Okay, when I met Luo Jia, he suspected I was a cultist. When I met Xiao Pei, he attacked me without saying a word. Later, because I often met with Katherine, he rushed in and killed me without saying a word.”

"When he arrived at Magnus, he almost made a move, but luckily he had the protection his father gave him, and Uncle Poseidon was there too."

"Now that we've got to Xiao Mo, it's normal for him to be wary of strange strangers, probably because of his living environment. He's prone to violence at the slightest provocation, which could easily lead to the loss of crucial information."

He touched his neck, and everything was normal there. He had experienced quite a few ways to die in his dreams.

"Sigh, I'll go back to sleep later. I feel like every time I dream about my brothers, it's because they've encountered problems and need help. Barbarus is such a terrible place. Does the future empire have any environmental modification machines?"

Marum pondered for a moment, then listed his memories:

"Yes, the Empire's technology is even quite fragmented. The most primitive tribes burn wood on their planets, and when war comes, they learn the prayer rituals of the Mechanicus to call upon the Titan souls buried in the ground to awaken."

"Those technologically advanced garden worlds maintain a certain standard of living, but when it comes to prayer, they are no different from backward civilizations. However, the corresponding devices still exist, but they may not be able to deliver the prayers at that time, and the old man's hair will likely suffer significant damage."

It's truly remarkable that Marum, as a butler, would even consider Adachi's hair problem. If Adachi could hear this, he would probably be moved to tears and might even crown Marum the Ultra Warrior on the spot.

Anyway, Guilliman, that unfilial son, never cared about him.

Aaron sighed and said, "Any way will do, but I guess the devices you mentioned are slow to modify. Is there anything that can change the surface structure faster?"

Marum earnestly suggested, "Yes, there are Cyclone torpedoes and various variant torpedoes. Theoretically, we can quickly remove all the surface pollution from Barbarossa, including the pollution source, making it completely non-toxic and harmless. The cost is that the entire surface structure becomes crystallized."

Aaron finally sensed a hint of humor in it, and Angron, who was in his arms, took the opportunity to express his feelings, blurting it out:

"That's like burning a patient to death; the disease is indeed cured, and the patient doesn't suffer."

He raised his head and looked at his brother from a strange perspective:

"Brother, take me with you later. I can sense people's emotional changes. Let me approach Xiao Mo, and I guarantee I'll make sure he feels comfortable."

Upon learning that Motari had arranged for her to be the fourteenth in line, while she was the twelfth, Xiao An began to take her place and started using the name "Xiao Motari".

Marum, recalling some more secrets, added as he added fuel to the fire:

"But as far as I remember, Barbalus was never modified or restored. Each Primarch's world seems to have been defined. Those harsh environments and traditions, before they could even be modified by the Primarch, became the recruitment worlds of their respective Legions. They were what they were when they were discovered, and that's what they ended up as."

Aaron said with dissatisfaction, "It's because of that old man, isn't it? He forced his brothers to work hard and leave their homeland to fight in the empty starry sky."

Marum tried to salvage the old man's reputation by doing so:

"That is one reason, but the Great Crusade was necessary and time was of the essence. On the other hand, it was probably also because the Primarchs insisted on their own characteristics. According to the records, Mortarion even began to regularly send people to retrieve Barbaros's poison gas and place it on his armor to represent his uniqueness."

Anglong asked curiously, "What's so unique about me? I'm covered in poisonous gas, constantly tormented, and stinks to death. By the way, what are my special features in the future?"

Marum looked slightly embarrassed and shook his head, saying:

“I am not familiar with the history of all the Primarchs, after all, ten thousand years have passed for me. But the only thing I am sure of is that your destiny has been changed, Your Highness, you only need to look to the bright future.”

Angron broke free of his hands, crossed them in front of him, and pretended to be an adult:

"Hmph, I knew you guys weren't telling the truth. I bet that version of me suffered a lot. Sigh, if I could meet that version of myself, I'd have to find a way to ease his suffering. Brother, let me handle this. If I need your help or the help of the brothers, I'll ask for your assistance."

Aaron stroked Angron's hair, trying to braid it, and laughed:

"Okay, no matter what happens, I'll always be by your side. Alright, let's go find Xiao Mo again! I'll introduce you to all your future brothers when I have the chance!"

He hugged Angron and fell into a deep sleep against the wheel of the donkey cart. Meanwhile, the little horse in the distance had been watching the volcano all night and had also dispatched its dwarf subordinates, who were projections, to search and retrieve the lava from the river.

After ensuring that the false emperor had no possibility of rising from the dead, he returned to the camp with peace of mind and changed his position to rest facing the fifth brother.

He instinctively felt that Lao Wu was scary, or perhaps he felt that he was arguing with a donkey, so he avoided Lao Wu.

It's not about avoiding its sharp edge, but rather about avoiding trouble. A dignified Primarch wouldn't fight with a donkey; they'd rather befriend it.

Huh? Why did these two brothers leave the tarpaulin and sleep outside?

Yuma's eyes were cold as he ignored Aaron, who looked like an ordinary person, and stared intently at Angron.

He began to notice Angron's abnormality. This Angron could not possibly be the Primarch he knew, but he still had a strange feeling about him.

If Primarch Angron had such a family environment when he was a child, even Horus would be ashamed to give those speeches in comparison.