Warhammer, I'm a nanny, not your father!

And Wop not only solved the mystery, but also told him more truth.

The truths that had been deliberately buried surged in like a galaxy bursting its banks, far deeper and more cruel than Khan had anticipated.

"Lord of Humanity..."

Chagatai pressed his knuckles against his chin, grinding the title between his teeth in a deep voice.

His biological father created him and endowed him with talents far beyond those of ordinary people.

He and his brother should have thrived in the fertile soil of Terra, instead of being scattered across the galaxy, becoming strangers who knew each other best.

The machinations of the Chaos Gods have scattered them across the galaxy. Several of his brothers have returned to the Imperium, but many more, like him, still struggle on strange worlds.

Chagatai had no complaints about this, and he did not hate the emperor.

The Emperor failed to protect them from the Chaos Gods, and while he certainly bears an unshirkable responsibility, the fault lies not with him but with the Chaos Gods.

The Emperor wants to retrieve him, and the Four Gods want to corrupt him.

They use the galaxy as a chessboard and the future of mankind as a bet, and they stake everything on this game.

But no one leaned over to ask these Primarchs who were torn apart by fate whether they were willing to become their pawns.

Chagatai understood that none of them cared.

Just like how humans look at the ants under their feet, they don’t care about their life or death, sorrow or joy.

Chagatai had no good feelings towards the Emperor. Just from listening to Wop's description, he knew that the Emperor was a willful tyrant.

But he hated the Four Gods even more. Their undisguised malice was truly disgusting.

As for Wop, these truths should have been discovered by him personally.

After he unifies Chogoris and returns to the Empire, he will reveal the truth himself.

But Wop deprived him of this opportunity and told him the whole truth.

He hated Wop, who was as self-righteous as the Emperor.

He thought that all the Primarchs needed his teachings, that he had the responsibility to tell the Primarchs the truth, and yet he left self-righteously.

But Chagatai did crave the truth.

Wop calls himself an ordinary teacher, and this self-perception is quite appropriate.

His education was mediocre. All the truths were forced upon him in a completely rote manner, with no technique at all.

Of course, although Wop's teaching method is a bit stiff, it also ensures relative objectivity and fairness.

Absolute objectivity does not exist; it is merely an idealized pursuit.

Any statement, when it is formed, inevitably carries the subjective imprint of the speaker.

If it weren't for this trait, Chagatai would never have believed the nonsense of a stranger.

But what if this is exactly Warp's educational technique?

"Then you can be considered a barely competent teacher." Chagatai muttered to himself.

His original evaluation was that the student was competent, but Wop's sudden departure forced him to add the word "reluctant" before this word. How could a teacher suddenly abandon his students?

The few words that Wop revealed were like fragmented pieces of a puzzle, making Chagatai toss and turn, feeling anxious and worried.

Those fragments of truth that had not yet been explained ignited an unquenchable flame of thirst for knowledge in his heart.

He longed to uncover the truth himself rather than just parrot what others had said.

But the answer was now within reach, and he found that he simply could not refuse Wop.

He was not his brothers who had met Wop when they were babies, and he did not need Wop's teachings, but he needed an objective narrator to tell him the truth.

That's the kind of person Wop is.

But Wop suddenly left, and Chagatai didn't know where he went or when he would come back.

All that was left for him were unsolved mysteries and endless waiting.

He admitted that the outsider had won.

He will lead his troops on a long expedition, first flattening the vast grasslands, then conquering the mountains of Chogoris, until every star in the Milky Way submits to Chogoris's cavalry!

Chagatai lifted the felt curtain of the royal tent and saw the warriors of the Tarska tribe sitting around a campfire, feasting on barbecued meat and drinking kumis.

As soon as his figure was outlined by the flickering flames, all the soldiers immediately put down their wine bags and saluted in unison, placing their fists to their chests.

"Khan!"

Chagatai was the new Khan, and this was undisputed among the Tarska tribe.

He was the adopted son of Ang Khan, and he avenged Ang Khan by almost slaughtering all the Hulailie tribe.

Men embraced him, women and children loved him.

Who better to lead the Tarska tribe than Chagatai Khan?

"Brothers! Sisters!"

Chagatai's wolf-like gaze swept over the tribesmen gathered around the fire. His voice was as low and trembling as a horse-head fiddle. "Eternal Heaven has taken our Khan-father away! The grassland has lost its eagle!"

"We shed the blood of the Hulailie tribe in remembrance of our father Khan! But hatred on the grasslands is more abundant than the hairs on an ox! The fighting between tribes is more brutal than that of wolves!"

"The same grass feeds us all! The same blood flows through us! Why should hatred taint this grassland?"

"I swear to end this chaos! I will unite all the tribes like a rope around a lasso! Let peace spread across the grasslands like spring grass!"

"By the Lord of Heaven, the warriors who walk with me, raise your scimitars! Let Heaven bear witness to our oath!"

"In the name of the Eternal Heaven, for the Khan!" The warriors shouted in unison like thunder, and dozens of scimitars were unsheathed at the same time, drawing silver arcs in the firelight.

"We want to be like golden eagles soaring in the sky!" Chagatai shouted, his hawk-like gaze piercing the night sky. "We will tear jackals to pieces with our sharp claws! We will penetrate the grasslands with our piercing eyes! Let all tribes look up to our wings!"

"Golden eagle! Golden eagle!" The soldiers' roars caused the campfire to shake violently.

Chapter 127: Mortarion's Path (5K)

At the high mountain pass, the overlord's steam convoy crawled hard on the rugged mountain road.

Sudden--

"boom!"

The rebels' carefully planted explosives exploded beneath the lead vehicle, twisting and breaking its tracks like severed limbs. The entire steel train froze on the mountain path, unable to advance or retreat.

The steel hatch suddenly opened like a poisonous snake spitting out its tongue, and groups of stitched puppets twisted their limbs and rushed out. They were greeted by the musketeers who had been waiting for a long time.

"aim!"

"shooting!"

"boom!"

Dozens of muskets fired at the same time. In the flash of fire from the muzzles, the first wave of puppets had not yet stepped out of the cabin door when the metal storm tore them into flying rotten flesh and blood mist.

However, more monsters are still pouring out.

Mortarion's scythe drew an arc of death, and wherever the scythe passed, the puppet's body broke neatly like straw.

Typhon wandered the battlefield like a ghost, psychic energy flowing in his palms.

Whenever a comrade was in danger, an invisible hand would suddenly pull the puppet's joints apart, or make its claws strangely turn in direction, creating an opportunity for the soldiers to make a fatal strike.

The warrior, covered in blood, turned pale. "Thank you, Kargath."

"I've heard so much that my ears are almost callused. Can you guys be more careful next time?"

The Death Guard's cooperation has become increasingly tacit, while the Overlords' puppets remain unchanged.

The Overlord's sorcery endowed these stitched monsters with great strength, but also robbed them of their intelligence.

These twisted creatures only follow the most primitive killing instinct, charging blindly like puppets, and have no understanding of tactics at all. Therefore, the rebel ambushes are always successful.

This was the eighteenth time that the rebels had intercepted the Overlord's convoy. They had already developed a set of effective tactics: first, they would eliminate the minions that were plundering mortals, then set up ambushes to intercept the steam convoys, and gradually clip the Overlord's wings.

Eventually, when the Overlord's power is weakened to a certain extent, they will go straight to Huanglong and attack the top of the mountain to end the alien's rule. This place is destined to become the burial place of the seventeenth Overlord!

The smoke gradually dissipated and the battlefield entered its final stage.

Kvir was counting the remaining ammunition with her musketeers, while Skelval led the Death Guard through the corpses, chopping off the heads of every puppet.

The probability of a puppet playing dead is small, but definitely not zero.

The non-combatants skillfully took over the Overlord's steel behemoths. They nimbly climbed into the cockpit and slowly turned these captured war machines around.

Once Mortarion had struck down the Overlord's head, the caravan, laden with spoils, would depart for its safe haven.

Moreover, this time is different from the past.

"We will fight alongside you this time!"

Kvir put the gas mask on his face neatly, and the other soldiers followed suit.

The greatest danger on the mountaintop is not the Overlord, but the deadly poisonous fog surrounding the peak.

Even the poisonous fog at the foot of the mountain would suffocate a mortal, and the concentration halfway up the mountain was fatal.

In the first six expeditions, only Mortarion and Wop were able to cross this death miasma. Together with Typhon, who was specially brought by Wop to watch the show, the others could only wait at the foot of the mountain for them to fight with the Overlord and his minions on the top of the mountain.

Although Mortarion always returned victorious, the Death Guard warriors clenched their fists, because they could only wait at the foot of the mountain like a burden and could not help at all.

Wop will not take anyone else up the mountain, and Typhon is the only one besides Wop who can take anyone up the mountain.

He can learn from Wop's use of psychic energy and purify a safe area around him.

But every time he fought at the foot of the mountain, he would overdraw his spiritual energy in order to help other comrades, and going up the mountain rashly would put his life in danger.

But if we wait for Typhon to recover his psychic energy, we will waste precious fighting opportunities. The cunning Overlord may take the opportunity to escape into the depths of the poisonous fog. The seventh Overlord took the opportunity to slip away. He was the only Overlord who escaped from Mortarion.

From that moment on, Mortarion would wait no longer.

He will not let any overlord go. These aliens alive are the greatest persecution to the Barbarus people.

During the thirteenth bloody battle to encircle and suppress the Overlord, Wop found several yellowed sheepskin books deep in the Overlord's palace.

These books record an astonishing secret: there is a plant called Isatis root growing on Mount Barbarus, which can be used to make simple gas masks after special processing.

During the long years when Barbarus was shrouded in poisonous fog, all living things inevitably became toxic, but the toxicity of Isatis root was extremely low, and it also evolved the unique ability to purify the poisonous fog!

However, the reason why this secret has been buried for so many years is despairing. This is an unbreakable vicious cycle:

Mortals need gas masks to go up the mountain. To make a gas mask, they need to collect isatis root, which only grows on mountains that mortals cannot reach.

These classics are the legacy of Cuban scholar Barus, who used an ancient gas mask to venture up the mountain to record the properties of Isatis root. Unfortunately, the classics eventually fell into the hands of the overlord and never saw the light of day again.

Even after obtaining these precious books, it still took the rebels a long time to crack the secrets and figure out how to make gas masks.

At this point, the situation finally took a turn for the better.

Mortarion's gaze swept across the resolute faces, their eyes burning with desire and loyalty.

Then he looked at Wop.

When he was confused, his father always gave him answers.

Wop silently mouthed, "You are not alone. Don't let them down."

Mortarion took a deep breath, finding a balance between duty and protection.

"Kvir, Scolval, Lask, Lothul, and Typhon."

"You guys follow me up the mountain."

Mortarion raised his hand to stop the other warriors who wanted to fight. "The cliffs cannot accommodate a large army. Your battlefield is here. Defending these steel behemoths is also defending our way home!"

Seven figures meandered up the rugged ridge, cutting through the thick poisonous fog like sharp blades.

Behind them, the rest of the Death Guard remained at the pass, using the convoy as cover to build a defensive line to prevent a sneak attack from the Overlord's puppets.

"Kargath, what does that... Overlord look like?" Lask's voice was muffled behind his gas mask. As soon as the words left his mouth, he added as if he had been burned: "Wait! I'm not mocking you!"

After saying this, Lasker wanted to bite off his tongue. This explanation was worse than no explanation at all!

"It's okay." A low laugh came from under Typhon's mask. He understood why his comrades were uneasy. He was a hybrid of mortal and overlord, and probably the only hybrid.

The reason why Lasker asked Typhon was that in this team, apart from Mortarion and Wop, only Typhon had witnessed the true appearance of the Overlord with his own eyes, and he did not dare to disturb Mortarion and Wop with such trivial questions.

Typhon was not offended by Lasker's question. He knew his comrade's straightforward character, and the clumsy apology was more sincere than any flowery words.