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

The emperor gazed at Chagatai Khan, but his gaze seemed to penetrate the void, condensing the rise and fall and suffering of human civilization.

That was everything he fought for, everything he risked.

Even if he had to do it again a million times, he would still hold the rope tightly.

Because that was his only chance, because he saw the only opportunity.

Chagatai Khan: "If even you regret it, then humanity is truly beyond salvation."

The Emperor spent his entire life searching for a ray of hope, and in order to bring this ray of hope, he was willing to stain his hands with blood, no matter what the cost.

Even if his own hopes have been shattered, as long as human civilization still exists, he is willing to sit on the throne and burn his soul to prolong the life of human civilization, even if it is only for a second.

What else can we blame for such a person?

Chagatai Khan's voice suddenly turned melancholy. "My teacher also taught me one thing: I cannot see the true face of Mount Lu because I am within it."

"I was outside the mountains, thinking myself an outsider. Little did I know there were mountains beyond them, and I was in a bigger mountain, no different from my brothers."

"And you're just like me."

Emperor: "I am the father, you are the same as me."

Chagatai Khan remained noncommittal. “Even if you stand on the top of a mountain and overlook all the other mountains below, you are still in the mountain.”

“I have to be in the mountains.”

"This is our limitation. None of us can jump over this mountain."

"It seems we have all faced reality."

“But none of us regret it.”

Chagatai Khan raised the corner of his mouth slightly, and the emperor's expression relaxed.

Chagatai Khan and the Emperor got along much more like father and son than the other Primarchs did. They talked about family matters like ordinary mortal fathers and sons, even if they were discussing the rise and fall of human civilization.

"Will you help me then, my son?"

The emperor slowly extended his hand toward Chagatai Khan. He was clearly making a request, but every syllable carried the weight of the decline of human civilization.

Chagatai Khan slowly knelt and bowed his head to his father. "I will pay you my loyalty, not to the Lord of Men, but to my father."

The emperor remained silent, with an imperceptible emotion passing through his eyes.

At this moment, an almost human hesitation appeared on his usually sacred and ruthless face.

The movement of him raising his right arm seemed to have crossed the long river of time, and his palm finally landed on the top of Chagatai Khan's head.

"Thank you, Chagatai."

Chagatai Khan lowered his head and a shadow fell over his face.

If ever the Emperor and his Master part ways, he will stand by the Emperor's side.

Since all his brothers would follow the teacher, it didn't matter whether he joined or not.

But the Lord of Mankind should not be alone; this is unworthy of his sacrifice!

……

"Alert! There's someone outside!"

On the watchtower of the pure-blood camp, the guard in charge of lookout suddenly straightened his body.

The companion beside him immediately drew his knife, "Those mutants are coming again?"

"No, wait." The guard narrowed his eyes, trying to make out what was going on. "He looks like a pureblood, and he's bringing a child with him!"

"Quick, lower the drawbridge!"

"Crack!"

The rusty chains groaned harshly, and the suspension bridge slowly lowered with a heavy friction sound.

A dilapidated scrap metal truck staggered out of the camp, its headlights casting a flickering dim beam of light in the dusk, as if it would be snuffed out by the desert night wind at any moment.

The car screeched to a halt in front of the fugitive, raising a cloud of dust.

The driver wanted to tell the man to get in the car quickly. The mutants were lurking around the camp, and the man was lucky to be able to walk here alive.

But as soon as he stuck his head out and took a casual glance, his breathing stopped.

The babies in the man's arms are pink and cute, and look like twins, but they have snow-white wings spreading behind their backs!

"Mutants!"

The man's terrified scream was like a sharp dagger stabbing the camp, and the guards in the watchtower immediately sounded the alarm.

He stepped on the accelerator suddenly, a puff of black smoke came out of the engine, and the tires spun wildly on the mud, raising a cloud of flying sand and dust, but the car could not move at all, as if it was being held in place by an invisible big hand.

Cold sweat trickled down his temples, and his heartbeat was pounding against his chest like a drum.

He could only watch as the man opened the car door and calmly sat in the passenger seat.

The moment the car door closed, he heard the other party's gentle voice: "Thank you."

The man's Adam's apple rolled up and down, and he swallowed hard, "...No, you're welcome."

The man's fear was still surging, but the other party's thanks still relaxed his tense nerves a little.

He secretly looked at the man in front of him. He had a well-defined face and ordinary features. He was neither covered with scales nor had any extra limbs.

His arms were what humans should be like, with knuckled hands holding a baby securely, not terrifying tentacles or claws.

No matter how you look at it, he is clearly a pureblood, but why is he holding two mutants?

His gaze fell on the two babies again, their snow-white wings glowing with a pearly luster.

He squeezed out a sentence from his dry voice: "You...he...who are they?"

The two babies in his arms suddenly blinked at the same time. Wop gently stroked the babies' soft cheeks with his knuckles. "They are the children entrusted to me by my dear friends. They are also my own children."

"But, but, their wings..." The man's voice was broken.

"But they're mutants!"

Wop: "They are children first. Drive and take me to see your clan leader. I will explain everything myself."

The man shook his head violently, "No! Absolutely not!"

"I can't bring mutants back to the camp, do you hear me? The alarm has been sounded in the camp. They won't listen to your explanations. Run!"

"Oh." Wop replied lightly.

But the next second, the car body suddenly shook.

The tires actually rolled over the gravel on their own, turned, and slowly drove towards the camp.

The man tried to control the steering wheel in panic, but the car would not respond at all!

"Stop! Stop right there!"

The man's boot soles stomped frantically on the brake pedal, sweat soaking his vest but to no avail.

Wop was no Machine-Priest or Tech-Marshal, and knew no prayers or anointings to appease the Machine-Spirit.

So he is actually using his psychic power to carry the car and it doesn't matter whether the wheels turn or not.

The man looked at Wop in horror: "What did you do?"

"I'm a wizard. Do you understand wizards?"

Wop's voice was very patient, but the man's expression was just confused.

There are only pure-bloods and mutants on Baal-2, but no wizards, because the population of Baal-2 is too small. Even if a psychic is born occasionally, it is difficult for them to survive to adulthood.

Even if they survive to adulthood, the probability of becoming a powerful psychic is very low.

In the human empire, the talents of most psykers will never be put to good use in their lifetime.

Only psychics who can use psychic powers to rewrite reality are considered psychics, and the probability of such a person being born is only one in ten million.

On Baal, the combined population of mutants and purebloods may be less than 500,000, and they are not even qualified to be harmed by psykers.

But even without the threat of psykers, Baal-Serbia is a death world, and the deadly radiation will equally destroy any life on Baal-Serbia.

The harm caused by radiation is no less than that caused by psychics.

The flames of the suspension bridge were just around the corner, but the car was still moving forward inexorably.

"Who are you?" The man turned his head and stared at Wop.

"You can call me mentor."

"Mentor? What a strange name." The man, having completely given up struggling, sank heavily into the seat, the leather creaking in frustration. "I'm Cole. What are their names?"

The two babies suddenly raised their little faces at the same time, their four clear eyes filled with light.

Wop: "I haven't named them yet because I have to sort them out first."

The man scratched his head. They were twins after all, so was it necessary to distinguish them so clearly when naming them?

Chapter 144 Wang Qiuer (5K)

"Outlander, this is your last warning. Take your monsters and leave our camp!"

The crowd surrounded Wop like a tide, led by an old man with scars all over his face.

They were armed with a variety of crudely made weapons, including rusty swords and guns, wooden sticks inlaid with iron nails, the Holy Sword of Physics, and homemade firearms pieced together from discarded parts.

They may be young or old, but deep hostility and fear are engraved on each of their weather-beaten faces.

Wop: "You probably misunderstood me. You thought I was an exile seeking asylum. I can explain."

A sturdy young man pointed a gun at Wop aggressively, "Get off our land, you are not welcome here!"

Wop held down the restless baby on the right, while the baby on the left just watched quietly.

The young man opposite suddenly had his feet off the ground and was lifted into the air by an invisible force.

The weightlessness made him kick his legs wildly, and the fear made his voice become quite sharp: "Put me down! Oh my God, put me down!"

"Mutant! What did you do to Gibson?"

As soon as the other young man raised his nail stick, he was lifted into the air by the invisible giant hand like a rag doll, and his questioning immediately turned into a scream of terror.

"Help, help me, help me!"

No one could save him, and cries and screams soon filled the camp.

Men and women spun helplessly in the air, like leaves caught in a gust of wind, ten meters high. Some desperately tried to grab their companions' ankles, while many more simply pawed their hands and feet in vain.

Cole's voice trembled, "I, I actually..."

Wop: "Do you want to dance too?"

Cole swallowed his unspoken plea for mercy and suddenly began to feel lucky that he was the one who went to pick up Wop.

In order to make the Baal people understand his friendliness more intuitively, Wop generously let them experience the flying trapeze for free, throwing them into the sky from time to time, and catching them when they were about to fall to the ground, allowing them to land steadily.

However, their legs had already gone weak, and they knelt on the ground and retched like kites with broken strings. The entire camp had collapsed, and some people's pants were wet.

Wop: "Do you understand what this is called?"

Cole asked nervously, "W-what?"

Wop glanced at him. "I'm not asking you."

Cole lowered his head in embarrassment, while Wop lowered his head to the baby in his arms and warned: "If language is reduced to a pale footnote, plain and simple violence is the most straightforward poetry."

Cole stole a glance at the twins' overly focused eyes and wondered in his heart, could such young children really understand?

Although they are mutants, these two children are indeed good-looking.

"Cole, give me a hand."

When Cole heard the patriarch's hoarse cry, he hurried forward to support the scarred old man.

But when the scarred old man stubbornly moved in front of Wop, his knees suddenly gave way and he knelt before Wop, his forehead hitting the sand heavily: "My God, you have finally arrived!"

In an instant, the entire camp was silent.

People stared blankly at the kneeling old patriarch. Several women were the first to kneel on the ground, and then the others followed one after another and knelt down like cut wheat stalks.

"Oh God! Save us!" The scarred old man burst into tears.