The Ninth Legion Must Be Wonderful, Right?

Before arriving in Baal, Mordred had no idea where the fleet was going, and even after arriving in the Baal System, he didn't know that this godforsaken place was his unfortunate brother's home planet.

Of all the Primarchies, the best homeworld environments are Macragge, Olympia, Serenity, with their distinct seasons and pristine natural landscapes.

The next level down includes worlds like Prospero and Cthonia, which are generally free from natural disasters and man-made calamities, but whose planetary environments are not very good.

The other group consists of places like Nuceria and Nostramo, where the environment is decent, but the people living there are basically no good things to see; it's definitely a man-made disaster.

The remaining worlds are mostly considered Death World, either extremes of ice and fire, or filled with terrifying beasts bursting with martial spirit; Serenity is included among them.

When Stormbird entered the planet Baal aboard the Stormbird, Mordred finally understood why the Emperor had brought him there: Sanguinius was unlike any other Primarch; he had a pair of large chicken wings.

As offspring of the Master of Mankind, Primarch political. Regardless of whether they are human or not, they must at least look like one. Even Mordred would tuck her tail in when she appeared in public.

Based on what the Emperor saw, Sanguinius's large wings were too conspicuous, clearly indicating a deep mutation. He had already prepared for the worst, and brought Mordred along for testing and evaluation.

After spending so much time together, the Yellow Skins has noticed a phenomenon: Mordred pays special attention to Primarchs who might cause problems, such as Angron, that thorn in their side.

But after arriving in Baal, Mordred spent his days eating and drinking as if he were on vacation, completely unconcerned. It was obvious that he had the game in the bag.

However, while the two who disguised themselves as wasteland Scavengers had a great time during that week, they left the Great Angel feeling uneasy.

Having acquired a pair of wings that could soar through the sky, Sanguinius also possessed considerable Psionic Power; otherwise, it would be impossible to explain why those wings could carry him at supersonic speeds.

Beyond flight, Sanguinius' Psychic Power manifested specifically in prophecy.

The Great Angel had foreseen the Emperor's arrival long before the fleet set off for Baal, but he could never have imagined that the Emperor would play role-playing games with Mordred and carry out a secret infiltration.

Without a doubt, after observing for this period of time, Sanguinius is as beautiful as a real Sanguinius. With his cool wings, he completely surpasses Mordred in terms of fashion sense, making him want to get a pair of wings to show off as well.

Looking at the Great Angel standing on the high platform, giving a passionate speech, the Emperor became more and more satisfied. Number Nine had perfectly inherited his fine qualities. On the other hand, looking at his Rebellious son was frantically gnawing on Red Scorpions meat, they were like heaven and earth.

"Eat, eat, all you ever do is eat! You'll stuff yourself to death! What else can you do? Leave some for me."

After what happened before, Mordred had come to terms with it. Guilliman was right; the empire was doomed anyway, so why was he worrying about it? He should just eat and drink as usual.

"I know a lot more than that. Today I'll show you what Atlas's signature skills are."

Perhaps it was because the Emperor's movements were too abrupt, but Sanguinius spotted the outsider hiding in the crowd at a glance, along with the thief next to him who was reaching into someone else's pocket.

"Father!"

Without any hesitation, Sanguinius, flapping his wings, came before the Emperor, knelt down on one knee, and grabbed the jerky from the old Emperor's hand.

This move drew gasps from countless NPCs, and the show-off weasel immediately shone with golden Yellow Skins, shoving the jerky into Mordred's mouth with lightning speed, instantly transforming into his Golden Giant form.

"My son, I am the Master of Mankind, I am—", you are my proudest offspring—", join me in the Great Crusade."

Although they were not at the same time or in the same place, they had the exact same dialogue options. Mordred suspected that Old Man Huang's story was written for him in advance by Malcador.

But the Primarch was easily swayed by this. With Charm Aura, and after the Emperor's passionate speech, Sanguinius showed Mordred what the proper procedure was: swearing allegiance to the Emperor in front of all the Baal.

"Father, is the person who came with you my brother?"

Before the Yellow Skins could even speak, Mordred shoved the Emperor aside, and it was finally his turn to show off:

"Ahem, that's right! I am Mordred Wayne, the Imperial Warmaster, Lord of the Serenity 50 Worlds, Legion Commander of Atlas, Grand Master of the Assassinorum, Sovereign of the Dog-men, Creator of the Lizardmen, the Empire's First Biological Big Mek, and a man of unparalleled wisdom!"

But I prefer you to call me Second Brother!

Clearly, Mordred's long title was much cooler than the Emperor's, instantly attracting the attention of all the old farmers in Baal, who secretly sighed that outsiders were indeed different, with names getting longer and longer.

"Second Brother! There's not enough room for all of us."

"Haha, good brother, you definitely have good taste."

When you're out in the world, your reputation is earned, that's a unique characteristic of our empire. You'd better come up with a cool nickname for yourself, or you'll embarrass us brothers!

Mordred put his arm around Sanguinius' shoulder, but he always felt that his brother was a bit of a schemer, not as enthusiastic as he appeared.

On the contrary, he's a bit cunning.

"Don't listen to Old Man Huang's nonsense. He's never changed his tune. He tells everyone that you are his proudest offspring. He even told my apprentice that you are his proudest Abhumans in order to trick Rambo into becoming his personal chef."

Yellow Skins, you really can't change your ways... coo

Before Mordred could finish speaking, the Emperor grabbed her by the neck, flung her behind him into the sky, and within two seconds she was transformed into a shooting star.

Disappeared from sight.

"Father, don't worry, that bastard is tough and resilient, there's no way you can kill him."

The Great Angel's gaze wavered for a moment, but the name Mordred remained deeply etched in his mind, wondering if all his brothers were such oddballs.

Without Mordred interfering, the Emperor and the Great Angel had a very lively conversation, and when the Emperor expressed his intention to give Sanguinius a legion, the Ninth Prince was so excited that he shed a tear of true joy.

To show his care, the Emperor even brought Great Angel to the Emperor's Dream to select equipment and gifted Mordred an endless energy source sealed with Psychic Power. Mordred was quite envious.

However, the initial excitement quickly faded, and the Emperor, like a scoundrel, turned and ran, ordering Mordred to stay behind and take over the legions for his beloved son, Sanguinius.

Because it happened so suddenly, the Sanguinius, who hadn't even recovered from the shock, was kicked back to Baal.

Gazing at the endless yellow sand, Sanguinius sensed something was amiss, yet still held onto hope, and asked his brother Mordred:

"Second Brother, why do I feel that Father is a little different from what I imagined?"

That's understandable, though. Someone like him must be very busy. But then again, the thought of seeing my offspring soon makes me a little excited!

Do you know what my legion is really like?

"Oh my god!"

Recalling how even when they went to Serenity to replenish supplies, the Ghouls were relegated to a corner by all the legions, Mordred couldn't think of a euphemistic way to describe it, and could only vaguely say:

"It's bound to bring you endless surprises! You're in luck, kid."