Gasp, can the old man hold himself back—
Ron sucked in a sharp breath.
He knew the old man was extremely agitated. His face was as black as the bottom of a pot, and he had crushed the railing out of shape.
Ron could understand it too.
The Emperor's temper had improved considerably, but he was still a traditional strict father who wanted his son to be a true warrior.
Now, seeing his son looking neither male nor female, singing and dancing onstage, his blood pressure was practically about to explode.
Especially when Fulgrim sang a song dedicated to his father, The Emperor crushed the railing outright.
If this had not been the Victory Celebration, and if they had not been under the watchful eyes of the Galaxy's and Warp's higher beings, the old man's Seven Wolves would have long since become blurs.
Ron was also worried that The Emperor would charge onto the stage and put on a show called "Seven Wolves Beating Up His Primarch Son." Fortunately, he controlled himself and did not pull anything too ruthless during the celebration.
The Emperor knew this was not the right occasion for such a thing. It would only make an even bigger joke and damage the Imperium's image before so many higher beings.
"Fulgrim probably knows that too. That's why he has the nerve to pull this stunt right in front of The Emperor."
Ron could not help shaking his head as he watched the passionate Fulgrim on the theater stage.
He could only tell him to pray for himself.
The Emperor's restraint now did not mean he would not act later. A thorough beating was unavoidable.
Holding his wineglass, Ron walked toward the area where The Emperor was seated, intending to soothe the old man's mood.
The Emperor might