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

This tsundere personality may be attributed to Sanguinius's daily PUA.

But what does it matter?

He is only three years old!

Tsundere is much cuter than being stubborn.

Sanguinius slowly stood up, his pure white wings folded behind him, and the flickering genetic map was reflected in his eyes.

"My father said I would succeed," Sanguinius murmured softly. "And so I will succeed."

His father's eyes fell on him like stars, and his silent expectations were more important than any words!

……

"The experiment was successful." Sanguinius stared at the incubator, and his tense wings finally slowly stretched out.

Two mutant warriors bathed in nutrient solution. Their redundant and deformed limbs had withered like dead leaves, and their new skin was as pure as fresh snow. The vital signs curves on the life monitor always remained within the safe threshold.

Everything went well except that he hadn't woken up yet.

"We successfully cured the mutants."

Fulgrim smiled. "There are no mutants in Baal."

Wop: "Only the people of Bhaal who await healing."

Karin stood quietly in the corner of the laboratory, her hands folded in front of her, looking at the family of three with soft eyes.

Chapter 161 Primarch and Legion (5K)

“We succeeded, maybe we can go further!”

There was an almost divine light in Sanguinius' eyes, and his voice was filled with passion.

The distortion in the incubator gradually faded away, and the reborn soldiers greatly encouraged him.

A crack has been torn in the haze of the radiation curse of Baal II. This is not only the salvation of the two mutants, but also the nirvana of the Baal civilization!

But even if the experiment was successful at this moment, Sanguinius was clearly aware of its limitations - this healing was essentially a black box.

Dr. Ivan's genetic medicine can create prison bullies who can violently suppress those escaping the prison;

She had detailed data for every step of her experiment, but Eve destroyed all the experimental data and killed Dr. Ivan, which made the genetic medicine a black box.

Sanguinius's gene is a pardon from the Supreme Court, allowing the gene lock to tacitly allow escaped prisoners to return to prison;

The Primarchs are the pinnacle masterpieces of the Emperor's genetic engineering. The complexity of their genes far exceeds that of mortal genomes in the 30 era. Even the Primarchs find it difficult to fully decipher the mysteries contained therein.

Sanguinius had no idea what to make of the genetic lock, the encrypted program carefully woven by the Golden Age and deeply embedded in the human genome.

Although the experimental results show that the synergistic effect of the three can indeed cure mutants, they can even roughly infer the role they play in the system.

However, the specific operating mechanisms, interaction principles and underlying operating logic of the three are still shrouded in mystery.

They can repeat the experimental results on other mutants, but they still know nothing about the essential laws behind the phenomenon.

These three black box systems interact with each other, achieving a wonderful harmony and forming a more complex super black box.

There may be hidden dangers that have not yet erupted, and the subspace may also play a role in it.

Fulgrim: "Your blood can cure the mutants of Baal, but it is not enough to save all mutants in the galaxy. If the cure is to be extended to the entire Imperium of Man, the experiments must be freed from their dependence on your genes!"

A smile softer than the morning light curled up Sanguinius's lips. "Fear not, brother. I will fulfill my promise of redemption, but I will not become a prisoner."

When the scale of cure expands from individual cases to entire populations, any undiscovered variables could lead to catastrophic consequences.

When the scale is further expanded to the entire empire, Sanguinius will not be able to heal everyone with just one person's blood.

He is the Primarch created by the Emperor himself, and he shoulders a noble mission.

The Great Crusade needs his protection, and the countless mortal worlds in the galaxy that have not yet suffered the ravages of radiation are in urgent need of liberation.

If we abandon our higher mission because of our obsession with curing mutants, it would be like abandoning the entire forest to heal the dead branches, which is tantamount to missing the forest for the sake of the forest.

This is essentially no different from Shengjiang's self-sacrifice for his offspring.

That's why Sanguinius has to continue to advance his experiments, build models through massive experiments, and summarize the rules through countless trials and errors.

Even if we cannot completely analyze the black box, we should at least clarify some of its operating principles.

Fulgrim's lips curled up in a proud arc. "Your awakening reassures me, brother. The people of Baal await our redemption, the Legion awaits our return, the glory awaits our restoration, and the Empire awaits our protection. Countless people eagerly await our arrival, simply because we shoulder a sacred mission!"

"We are not only the saviors of Baal, but we will also become the protectors of human civilization. Only in this way can we live up to our father's expectations of us!"

The smile on Sanguinius's lips gradually faded. Yes, the Legion is coming.

He saw it.

……

"I will save the Legion!"

Fabius Bile stood in his medical room, eyes closed, as if lost in the peaceful rhythm of the Terra Concerto.

He is very busy.

But he occasionally finds time to entertain and relax in his busy schedule.

Abdemon paused at the threshold, tilting his head slightly to listen. This composition lacked elegance, but it had a savage quality.

"Commander Abdemon, you came to see me?"

Fabius Bile turned slowly, his pale face looking particularly haggard under the cold light of the lumen lamp.

A dull question came from beneath Abdemon's metal helmet: "Fabius, how much gene-seed do we have left?"

Fabius: "Three hundred, but with the Third Legion's current reputation, I'm afraid no one will be willing to send us new soldiers."

Once upon a time, the Third Legion had enjoyed great glory.

The nobles of Europa vied to send their finest sons into the Legion, hoping that they would achieve glory in the Emperor's Great Crusade.

Those high-spirited warriors were filled with joy, thinking that they would win honor for their legion and family in the Great Crusade.

But they did not die on the battlefield as they wished, but died from the genetic defects of the legion and were slaughtered by their comrades.

Scores of warriors who tested positive for the Blight were slaughtered, their bodies incinerated along with batches of gene-seed.

The Third Legion had long since lost all its glory.

They once had ten great companies of a thousand men, and Abdamon was the commander of one of them.

Now there are only two hundred people left in the Third Legion, the smallest number among all the legions.

In order to preserve the seeds of the legion, they are no longer allowed to participate in any battles.

The Emperor himself ordered their withdrawal to Terra, where they were to rest and recuperate.

But the Third Legion only had 300 gene-seeds left. They could no longer catch up with the other Legions, and the Great Crusade had nothing to do with them.

Besides, the curse of the Third Legion is known to everyone.

The European nobles who once vied to send their sons to the Third Legion now shunned them.

This was a humiliation for the Third Legion, but who could they blame?

The survivors of the Third Legion, the only two hundred remaining soldiers are also descendants of European nobles!

European nobles offered their sons, and if their sons died bravely in battle, it was an honor, and they were willing to follow in their footsteps.

But if they knew that their offspring would die from the blight, who would send their offspring to die?

Even if the Third Legion has eliminated the blight, who would believe it?

The European nobles were unwilling to believe it because it was only the one-sided statement of the Third Legion and they could not provide any evidence.

Do they have to admit that the evidence is that all the sick comrades have been executed by them?

So how can they ensure that the Third Legion won't suffer another blight outbreak?

No one dares to guarantee it, and even if someone does, no one dares to believe it.

Unless the Emperor personally vouches for them, the Emperor will not favor any Legion other than the First.

The Third Legion is not the master of the Empire, and the European nobles are not their servants, but their relatives.

They could not point guns at the heads of European nobles and force them to hand over their offspring.

They could also recruit new soldiers on their own, but other legions would have already divided up the best candidates.

Even if they are just repeating others' ideas, they must have the cooperation of the Ministry of the Interior.

Without sufficient administrative resources, no legion can recruit new soldiers on Terra on its own.

But time waits for no one, even though the Ministry of the Interior approved the application of the Third Corps on a special basis.

But a large number of qualified people have already been selected by other legions, and they can only eat leftovers.

All of this made the reconstruction of the Third Legion extremely difficult.

Abdemon's voice echoed lowly at the door of the medical room: "The problem of recruits has been solved. Other legions are willing to support us. The first batch of recruits will arrive at the legion in three days."

Fabius looked up from the genetic analyzer. "Which legions?"

"Everyone I can contact."

Fabius: "So now the whole galaxy knows the Third Legion is begging? Let me guess, they're not going to give you the best candidates, they're going to give you the unsuccessful ones, right?"

Even among the new recruits selected by each legion, there are transfer students.

The best warriors will always be divided up among the best legions, and the remaining transfer students will be assigned to other legions.

The Third Legion once had the best soldiers, but now it has fallen to the point of picking up leftovers. Isn't this an irony?

Abdamon: "You underestimate the Primarch's generosity. Both the Eighth and Twelfth Legions have offered to give us priority in selecting the candidates they recruited on Terra."

A hint of surprise flashed across Fabius's eyes, and then a thoughtful expression emerged: "It seems I need to make some thorough preparations. Are the other legions willing to provide us with pharmacists?"

Abdemon: "They did make a proposal, but it was rejected by the Legion Commander."

Fabius lowered his head. "Since you've already fallen to the point of begging, why bother with that pitiful bit of dignity?"

He was the only remaining pharmacist in the Third Legion. Even with three hundred new recruits, he could not complete the surgery for three hundred people alone.

But Fabius could also understand the legion commander's actions. It was unwise to refuse the assistance of pharmacists from other legions, but if the Third Legion had to rely on other legions for help even with the surgery of new recruits, what would be left of the Third Legion?

The Third Legion has lost all its glory, but they still refuse to give up the pride in their bones.

"The other soldiers of the Legion will assist you."

Fabius shook his head. "It's too late. None of you have received systematic pharmacist training, and I don't have the time to teach you from scratch. I'm afraid you don't want me to teach you either."

"What if I use hypnosis training?"

"This technology is not yet mature, and time is running out. Hypnosis cannot directly train you to become qualified pharmacists."

Abdemon: "Is there no other way? We only have two hundred people left."

Fabius slammed his fist down on the metal countertop, "It's not my fault!"

"No one blames you, Fabius." Abdemon looked at the haggard pharmacist with unusual patience.

Fabius was a very solitary person, and except for treatment, he rarely interacted with other legionnaires.

Fabius didn't have many friends; his friends were pharmacists, and those pharmacists were all dead.

Some died on the battlefield, others were executed by Fabius himself.

"You provided the diagnostic criteria, and the Legion Commander made a decision in the best interests of the Legion." Abdemon paused, the servo system humming softly. "We all know there was no better choice at the time."

"Everyone who survives is an executioner. Our hands are stained with the blood of our brothers."

They could not allow the blight to continue to plague the legion, nor could they treat the sick soldiers. Death was their only destination.

The method for detecting the blight was invented by Fabius, but it was the legionary commander who ordered the execution of all soldiers afflicted with the disease.

Despite this, Fabius was still mired in self-blame.

"No one will blame you, and no one will blame the Legion Commander's orders. We all have no choice."

"Lies." Fabius' voice was hoarse. "Abdamon, I appreciate your comfort, but I'm just lonely, not deaf."

If they could remain absolutely rational, they would naturally not blame Fabius.

However, even these extraordinary space warriors cannot escape the shackles of human nature.