The Burning Legion

After turning off the Pip-Boy, Mordred and Vashtorr remained silent.

Mordred was lamenting that the sycophant was still the same sycophant, having evolved to this point, now even abandoning all shame. If this kind of sycophant were Thomas, he would be the first to dig up his grave and throw the old man's head into a star to burn.

Vashtorr, on the other hand, exclaimed, "Is this the world of the big shots? It's completely different from what I imagined!"

At this point, there's no point in dwelling on this topic.

He intended to use this opportunity to get closer to Mordred and sow discord between her and the Emperor, but who would have thought that the bloodthirsty Blood God would be like this behind the scenes?

What Vashtorr didn't know was that even if his plan succeeded, it would be meaningless, since Mordred never considered the Emperor as his father.

The divide-and-conquer strategy might work on other Primarchs, but it's completely ineffective on Mordred. Doesn't he know what kind of person the Emperor is? Imperial Truth is just a tool.

"Um, if there's nothing else, I'll take this with me."

After all, even a small mosquito is still meat. Going back to purify it, exorcise it, and melt it down into materials can make a lot of money. If it weren't for the offerings, Mordred would have run away long ago. Only someone with nothing better to do would waste their precious sleep time.

"No, you can't leave! I'm here to discuss cooperation."

"Me?"

Having regained his strength, Vashtorr spread his Metal Wings and, as a sign of respect, shrunk his body to the same height as Mordred.

"That's right, it's you. I could tell at a glance that you're Ambition person. I originally wanted to cooperate with the Cursed, but he's clearly not a good partner."

But you are different, because you are kind!

"Am I kind?"

This was the first time Mordred had heard Daemon praise his own goodness. If the Daemon captured by Atlas and enslaved heard this, they would probably be furious. But Vashtorr truly believed it.

In his view, Mordred was a master of feigning ignorance; even though she had ties with the Four Gods, she remained loyal to the Emperor —that was loyalty!

Vashtorr had studied every policy of Atlas and had also taken note of the aid plans for each legion.

A Primarch who is willing to consider the Primarch Civilians and help his brothers is undoubtedly a good person. Even the worst villain hopes that his ally is a good person.

"And most importantly, it's because you're honest! Much better than that treacherous the Cursed."

Mordred was overjoyed to hear these words. Yes, he was an upright and kind-hearted young man. He never expected that there would be such a wise man in the countryside. The one who understood him best was actually a Daemon.

"Vashtorr, based on your words alone, I believe you must be a sage comparable to Magnus, a demon of equally astonishing wisdom, with an IQ of at least 250."

Vashtorr laughed heartily, finding Mordred increasingly pleasing to the eye, and immediately stated his cooperation requirements:

"My goal is to become a god. If you help me become a god, we can share the divine position, and we can discuss everything."

Mordred felt that Vashtorr was out of his mind. Ascending to godhood wasn't something you could just do as you pleased. The Four Merchants disagreed, which was like a clam trying to eat a swan, jumping into a cesspool on its own.

But it's rare to encounter such a young genius comparable to Magnus; how could I not trick him a couple of times, given my reputation as a great philanthropist?

"Good, very spirited! To be honest, we Atlas are the most tolerant. All the Daemon lads who come to my house say they are good, and they don't even want to go back to the Warp."

Then you'll be the eldest brother and I'll be the Second Brother, leading humanity forward and conquering the galaxy together. Wouldn't that be wonderful! Hurry up and present the plan."

In terms of efficiency and integrity, Vashtorr completely outclasses Yellow Skins. Its reputation score is impeccable. It immediately produced a consulting proposal, written in Microsoft YaHei font.

After reading the contract, even Mordred was impressed by Vashtorr's "beetroot" plan. He truly lived up to his reputation as Val the Immortal.

"You mean you want to bring in outside forces—no, you want Atlas to be stationed in the Warp to help you train your legions and support each other in the Atlas Physical World."

"That's right, and all food and lodging will be provided. I'll cover the resources for building the legion."

"Then, will you choose your own base or your own Forge of Souls?"

Vashtorr nodded again, his body ablaze with the flames of his furnace—this was the finishing touch he had used; he wouldn't trust it to be done anywhere else.

It's more reassuring to leave it in my hometown.

"Yes, but it's not that I don't trust you. It's just that the Sea of Souls is full of mountains and there are even powerful beings comparable to the Four Gods. It's safest to leave it with me."

My furnace is as solid as a rock; even the Four Gods would have to be wary of it. I've built it up over countless years, so you can rest assured."

That's reassuring. The last person to do this was Yuan Shao, and well, in the end, Grand Tutor Dong left a deep mark on history.

Mordred suddenly understood the Emperor's feelings when he traded with the Four Merchants. As the saying goes, "It's a fool not to take advantage of a bargain, and it's immoral to accept what's given by Heaven." Mordred, however, was a virtuous man.

"Okay, I'll sign it. But I need to check the validity of this contract beforehand. I wouldn't trust you if it weren't for the fact that it's a major event for the future, so I have to be careful."

Vashtorr admired people with a strong sense of contractual obligation and immediately declared that even if the Four Gods signed a contract, it could not be broken, and any violation would come at a terrible price.

And this is the power of the true name, the true essence inherent in every being at the very beginning of its existence in this world.

Hearing this, Mordred, who had been hesitant, felt reassured and said there was no need to say anything more or read any further. He said that he would follow him as a brother based on this sincere heart alone.

To show his sincerity, Mordred wrote his full name in blood, "Mordred Wayne Pendragon Minasir Griffith Proudmoore Sargeras Seven Oedipus."

It's not that Mordred is being long-winded; it's just that his name is too long. When he was naming his dog, Old Thomas gathered the best of the tribe and asked all the dogs to help him come up with a name that was truly a collection of surnames, all in order to assert his dominance.

Take Rambo, for example. His full name is Rambo Guinness, and he is the last descendant of the Gini Clan.

The Dog-men Guts, who was sent to Son of the Emperor, was even more remarkable. His full Guts Griffith, and no one knew who the dogs' ancestors were, yet he came up with so many abstract surnames.

As the Emerald Chaos Energy and thick smoke of the furnace burned, the contract was officially established, and it was even made in duplicate, demonstrating a high level of professionalism.

It seems both sides feel they've gotten a good deal from this agreement. Taking this opportunity, Mordred suggests, "Why don't we give the legion a name?"

"Brother, you see, our cause must forge ahead relentlessly. If we can't make the Warp great again, then let it Burning Fiercely! How about we call it the Burning Legion!"

"Alright, let's call it the Burning Legion!"

"Big brother!"

"Second brother!"

After a brief exchange of brotherly respect, Mordred turned and left with his bags of offerings, afraid that if he stayed any longer he would lose his composure and accidentally burst out laughing.

As the perspective shifts back to the Physical World, Mordred, clutching her little blanket, wriggles around on the bed, much to Morgan's annoyance. Morgan crawls out of his skin to see what his silly owner is up to this time.

After they could share memories, another maggot appeared on the bed, and both master and servant went mad.

"No, I must tell Old Man Huang to step up his efforts and squeeze the Void Dragon dry."

Mordred took out his "Pip-Boy" and connected to the Divine Seal Network. He started frantically tagging Old Man Huang, but strangely, the other party didn't reply. Instead, it showed that the line was busy, and even the Khorne who had been chatting in the group was gone.

With nothing to do, Mordred could only continue sleeping. However, the disappearance of the War God 888, which usually came at a moment's notice, made him feel a little uneasy, until he saw the Vengeful Spirit docked at Serenity Starport.

"Horus? What's he doing here?"

"Father, I suspect they've come with ill intentions!" The Khan replied.

"Then let's play along with them."