Corn is Delicious.

"When I designed the Primarch, my original intention was to create generals who could help me lead humanity on the Great Crusade."

The Thunder Warriors' failure taught me that Space Marine need a stable Overlord, which is why I created the Primarch.

"Isn't that just a tool for oxen and horses? Old Man Huang, I'm giving you one more chance to put your thoughts into words; you'd better try to personify it."

The Emperor, who was secretly eating Corn deep in the cornfield, paused for a moment. He felt a rare pang of regret for Sisyphus's plight, and even the Corn in his hand lost its appeal. He was eager to prove himself.

"I definitely don't just see you as tools, you have to believe me! As long as the Great Crusade ends and my Webway Project succeeds, our whole family can retire."

"Wouldn't it be wonderful if we found Garden of Nurgle world to live in and enjoyed the pleasures of rural life?"

Mordred was very dissatisfied with this answer. What do you mean by "not just treating you as tools"? Isn't that exactly what you mean by treating them as tools? And this so-called retirement plan, even if you wanted to, the others wouldn't agree.

Another ear of Corn came his way, and Mordred stuffed it, husk and kernels alike, into his mouth. He patted the Emperor's backside, who was also sprawled on the ground, proudly displaying his Corn, and asked:

"You idiot, you don't understand people's hearts. It's pointless to talk to you. You said before that each legion had its corresponding function, so let me ask you, what was the Prisoner 11 for? The Eleventh Legion was purged by Russ, and I still don't understand."

According to Mordred's intelligence, aside from the Trefoil Legion, the god of civil war, almost every legion has overlapping functions. For example, the Civil Engineering Duo is a farming legion with two big butts. Fu Fulgrim and the Brainless One, despite trying their best to avoid it, still ended up together.

Even the all-around the First Legion has Atlas and Moon Wolves as counterparts, so the sickly Eleventh Legion doesn't seem to resemble a stinky Canned One at all.

"It's purity!"

"What? Shouldn't we Atlas be the purest?"

Hearing this, even the Emperor felt that Mordred was being a bit too shameless. How dare she talk about purity? If it weren't for his support, a legion like Atlas, whose actions would be considered blasphemous, would have wiped out her information long ago. Did she have some kind of illusion about herself?

"Shut up. Number Eleven should have been the purest and most innocent one among you, a blade specifically designed to fight against Chaos. He represents humanity's adaptive evolution to extreme environments from its birth to its spread across the starry sky, and is also one of the two legions with the highest resistance to Chaos."

But who would have thought that before he was even born, he was captured by Dahl and used as an egg-laying device, and the entire legion was also contaminated, turning into bio-monsters.

Seeing that Mordred was still feeling good about herself, the Emperor revealed a little secret:

"Actually, your Atlas shouldn't have become like this. My original intention was to create a super soldier with strong individual combat capabilities, a preliminary attempt at another plan."

But I underestimated the Primarch's influence on the Legion, to the point that the Second Legion, which should have been the spearhead of the offensive, has become this bunch of shameless, lazy bums who just loaf around and wait to die.

"...

Mordred always felt that the Emperor was targeting her. Atlas was just loafing around doing nothing and hadn't eaten her rice, so why was she bothered with so much? It was truly absurd.

"Shh, keep your voice down, Mortarion looks like he's coming this way, let's retreat!"

"There's a tractor over there, let's hide inside."

"Good!"

Using the cornfield as cover, the Master of Mankind and the Imperial Warmaster, two great figures at the pinnacle of the Imperium of Man, resembled dog thieves, crawling on all fours and cocooning on the ground.

Looking at the Corn that had been stolen by some unknown creature again, Mortarion frowned. It had been almost two days, and he still hadn't caught those two the Beasts.

The yellowish-brown poisonous fog began to spread gradually, and soon it would cover the entire farmland. The Barbarus old farmer didn't have much time left to harvest, and some had already given up and taken refuge in their houses.

No one bothers to verify the power of the toxic fumes; just inhaling a tiny amount can cause suffocation and festering sores, ultimately leading to a agonizing and tragic death.

But Mortarion was different; he had already endured far greater suffering, he was more resilient than others, and he had more time to harvest the crops.

I steadied myself against the basket behind me, which contained Corn that hadn't yet dried. In this cruel world, every bit of food is precious.

Even if it is not fully mature and the moisture-rich grains are not easy to preserve, it can still become food to fill your stomach after being air-dried.

A huge figure emerged from the farmland, which was gradually being shrouded in thick fog, and was rapidly dumping Corn into a tractor. The thick waterproof tarpaulin was designed to protect the Corn from the fog as much as possible.

Hesitation leads to defeat. The harsh environment of Barbarus taught the humans who survived there to be decisive, and so did Mortarion.

Without going to harvest any more, Mortarion cranked the handle and drove his little tractor rumbled towards the settlement. He needed to husk and dry the Corn as soon as possible, otherwise it would rot and spoil.

Thanks to his formidable physique, after escaping that damned prison, Mortarion, who had nearly fallen to his death from the mountain, was taken in by humans.

And they did not distance themselves from him because of his size.

The extremely harsh living environment made the surviving humans realize that only by sticking together can they resist the malice of nature, and Mortarion, being such a big guy, was obviously a good worker.

For some reason, Mortarion felt that something was off with the tractor today. He hadn't loaded much Corn, so why was it struggling so much to climb a hill?

"Perhaps it's because of the high humidity lately! Water got into the engine, causing the lack of power."

However, the humid air wasn't all bad. Mortarion, who was gradually getting used to the life of a farmer, knew that as long as the sun reappeared...

Many delicious mushrooms will grow on the ground, and you can eat more of them.

After all, as a Primarch, Mortarion had an enormous appetite, and the amount of food he grew was simply not enough to feed him.

To fill his perpetually hungry stomach and to repay the kindness of these simple farmers, Mortarion and his good brother Kalas started a repair shop together.

Using the knowledge in his mind, he repaired farm tools and forged tractors for others, exchanging them for food to sustain his own survival.

"Kalas, hurry up and unload the cargo, the fog is coming soon."

"They're here, they're here."

Upon hearing his friend's call, a rather burly, tall man ran out of the mud hut, carrying a bucket of mud and sand, and poured it all over Mortarion.

Wash away as many toxin residues as possible.

Dust billowed up, and the two men, covered in soot, didn't waste any time. They hurried to the front of the carriage and lifted the tarpaulin; they had to bring the Corn inside as soon as possible.

Then they saw two huge men huddled in the back of the truck, frantically munching on Corn. The precious food they had saved to survive the thick fog had been mostly eaten by these two creatures.

"Hey, want some? This Corn is so sweet!"

"Aaaaaah!"

Mortarion emitted a sharp, explosive sound.