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

Perturabo nodded seriously, "That's what I was planning to do."

"And your brother and sister, you should give them a belated gift."

"Okay." Perturabo agreed, his eyes fixed on Heracles' complicated expression.

Andos was not as scheming as his elder brother. His eyes were fixed on the wand in Caliphine's hand and Perturabo's evolution trustee, and his young face was full of undisguised envy.

Although the materials are ordinary, the exquisite design and unique meaning make them irreplaceable works of art.

He couldn't help but take half a step forward, wanting to observe them closely, but then he timidly retracted his foot.

Perturabo looked up slightly at Dammekos, "Father, I need some tools."

Dammex: "I will prepare it for you. Tell me, child, what do you want?"

"A forge and a set of paintbrushes."

His eldest brother was a warrior, and Perturabo would give him a sword.

His second brother loved art, and Perturabo was going to give him a painting.

Heracles turned his face away, his voice somewhat stiff, "I... will also give you a gift, brother."

He didn't really hate Perturabo, he just hated being treated differently, he just didn't want to be treated as an outsider.

He is also a member of this family!

Wop: "Damex, can you do me a favor?"

A hint of surprise flashed in Dammex's eyes, and then he leaned forward eagerly, "What do you need me to do?"

Although Wop lived in the palace and served as a tutor to his children, he always maintained a distant relationship with him.

The sudden request at this moment made him feel secretly happy. No matter what conditions Wop proposed, it would be worth it as long as he could gain Wop's friendship.

Wop: "I want to build an orphanage and adopt the orphans from Rocks."

Dammex: "Leave it to me. I'll arrange the site, the craftsmen, the funding. What scale do you want?"

Wop: "It would be best if it could accommodate all the orphans in Rocks."

Damex: "There's an abandoned old military camp in the civilian area. It has ample space and complete facilities. The warehouse area on the east side can also be expanded. What else do you need?"

"They still need a teacher."

Dammecus asked earnestly, "What kind of knowledge do you need to teach?"

"Combat and literacy are enough."

Dammecus pondered for a moment. "What about Miltiades? You've met him. He's an excellent warrior and well-educated."

Wop: "That's him."

Wop looked at Perturabo. "Abo, these children are in your care. You will teach them how to behave. I will not interfere with your methods of education."

Perturabo's eyes showed a hint of confusion. "Why give it to me?"

Wop: "They will all be your warriors in the future. Only you are qualified to shape them."

Heraclon frowned. He admitted that Perturabo was a genius, but geniuses were also children.

Isn't it nonsense to let one child teach another group of children?

What results can he teach?

Perturabo gazed up at the heavens; one day he would leave Olympia.

Olympia is just the beginning, the stars are his destination.

Perturabo would not fight alone, and he believed that Wop would go with him, but Wop would not always be with him.

He must have his own companions, trained by him personally.

Caliphini lowered her head, she was thinking about something else.

Rocks's system is too backward, but she cannot change the status quo by relying on her own strength.

Wop would educate her and support her, but he would not help her.

He is just a mentor and an educator, not an executor.

If everything is left to Wop, what is the point of educating them?

Whether it is unification or revolution, it must pass through the hands of Caliphony and Perturabo.

An orphanage cannot change anything, but the children who grow up in the orphanage will become their companions.

What the world will look like in the future depends on their passion.

Culliphany's fingertips unconsciously stroked the patterns on the wand. She had no real magic, but perhaps she could work a miracle.

She knew better than anyone that Perturabo was the one destined to change the world, not her.

But so what?

She is Perturabo's sister, she doesn't have to stand in the spotlight, she just needs to support him silently.

Even though she can't yet outline the specific outlines of her ideal, she has a determination to make the world a better place.

Just like Wop, you don't have to achieve success by yourself, and you don't have to make a name for yourself.

As long as the monument of success stands there, it is worth countless praises.

"Abo?" Damekus felt jealous. They were calling each other so intimately. Who is your father after all?

No, I have to do something!

Chapter 188: Is having me not enough? (5K)

"What else do you need, child?" Dammekos asked cheerfully.

Perturabo: "That's enough."

The tyrant's private engineering workshop has everything, even if the tyrant has not used it for a long time.

The tyrant was also obsessed with this when he was young, but he was too busy and the city-state and people of Locke were counting on him.

Years of luxury had made him pot-bellied, and his authority did not allow him to do such rough work.

But when he entered the workshop again, Dammex was still in a good mood, because it was his son who was using the workshop.

This meant that something was being passed down through his descendants, even if Perturabo was not his biological blood.

Perturabo inspected his instruments, bellows, anvil, forge,

His eyes slowly swept over everyone in the courtyard, his parents, sister, brother, and Wop.

There are no outsiders here, they are all his family.

Perturabo's eyes fell on Wop, then quickly looked away.

He had promised to prepare a return gift for Wop, but that gift was no longer available.

Wop gave him the Evolution Trustee, and he couldn't just get away with a hastily prepared gift. He had to give a return gift that was truly worthy of Wop.

Heracles' eyes were particularly fervent, and he was full of anticipation for the gift that Perturabo was about to give.

Perturabo could even sense the complex emotions mingled with that anticipation: a desire for recognition, mixed with a touch of unease.

He was the eldest son, and he was born with honor on his shoulders.

He was Dammecus's successor, he would be Dammecus IX, or something else.

But he is not outstanding, and people often feel that he is not qualified and cannot compare to his father.

Dammecus often expressed his concerns about whether his son could keep Rocks strong and whether he could live up to the family's honor.

Heracles was never truly recognized by his father, which made him uneasy.

And this emotion is almost exactly the same as Perturabo's.

"Twisted."

Perturabo suddenly realized that everyone has a twisted side in their heart, just more or less.

He used to be more twisted than anyone else.

Woppe once taught him that human needs can be divided into five levels: physiological, safety, love and belonging, respect, and self-actualization.

He was the Primarch, born superior to all mortals, and he feared no danger.

Physiology and safety never bothered him.

But love and belonging may trap him for life, and he will instinctively please others and seek recognition and acceptance from others.

But he was too twisted. When warm care came, he cruelly rejected it.

If he cannot face up to his own weaknesses, he will be trapped for the rest of his life.

Perturabo ran his palm over the displayed iron ingots, the chill of the metal seeping into his skin.

He picked up a piece at random and tapped it lightly on the anvil, producing a clear vibrato.

He listened carefully to the slightest overtone of each ingot, like a musician tuning the strings of his instrument.

Knowledge entered his mind actively, and the texture, density and impurities of each iron ingot were clearly visible. He chose the best one.

He grasped the ingot and plunged directly into the fire, the dancing flames licking his skin.

Perturabo heard the Tyrant and his sister exclaim in surprise, but Wop remained silent.

Wop knew him and believed that he would not do anything without a purpose.

But he felt inexplicably annoyed in his heart. Why couldn't Wop worry about him?

"Pa!" The crisp sound of a slap made everyone look shocked.

Perturabo rubbed his red cheek expressionlessly and muttered, "There are mosquitoes."

It was just a fleeting thought that has been extinguished.

But that’s not okay either, it’s a sin to even think about it!

"At least wear gloves, kid."

Dammex's eyes were filled with a mixture of heartache and fear. He had never been so frightened even during the battle.

Perturabo did not argue with his father. He quietly put on thick leather gloves and picked up the pliers to pick out the red-hot iron ingot.

Steel never bends; it can only be softened in the tempering of flames, forging its unyielding nature into a sharp blade.

Perturabo threw himself into his work.

His movements were dizzyingly fast, far faster than even the most experienced blacksmith in Rocks.

The metal seemed to come alive in his hands. With the dense and rain-like hammering sounds, sparks flew like bright stars, jumping and spinning on the marble floor until they dissipated.

"I am also steel."

Perturabo worked, thinking.

He is unyielding steel, but he is not a sharp blade.

He is not sharp, he is too dull without being tempered and hammered.

He could be a hammer, heavy, powerful, and unstoppable, crushing his enemies with every swing.

But he is not a sharp blade, not accurate and fast enough.

He is not an iron fist and cannot fit the palm of your hand.

He is too clumsy and too heavy.

"Dang!" Perturabo hammered.

He is crude steel, untempered and unrefined.

He longs to be a sharp blade, but resists the tempering of flames and the thousands of blows of the hammer.

What's stopping him?

It's impurities, it's twists.

Crude steel is naturally rough, with inherent cracks and impurities, and is both hard and fragile.

If it is not tempered, crude steel will eventually become scrap iron and be covered with rust.