Hope Remains, A Warning from Ten Thousand Years Later

What one cannot obtain in youth will surely haunt one for life.

With very few exceptions, every single Primarch is an orphan who can be paired with Batman. Even if they can enjoy an expensive adoptive father, they can't enjoy an expensive adoptive mother, making them like cursed lone stars.

Even the well-off Perturabo of him, is not as good as Guilliman, the chosen one who has been loved by both his father and mother since childhood.

A gambling father, a mother who ran away from home, a seriously ill younger brother, a broken home, and two uncles with equally serious mental issues—even Qin Shi Huang would have to boast that he'd won everything before indulging in two bowls of bean rice.

Primarch are more or less influenced by their home planet.

The chaotic jungles of Caliban shaped the Lion King's savagery; the biting winds of Fenris shaped the Wolf King's cunning; Chemos, forced to be frugal due to resource depletion, shaped Fulgrim's pursuit of perfection.

In the barren and desolate Colchis Wasteland, people can only survive by relying on the strong, which has fostered a fundamental logic of power politics in the human world.

Luojia, who grew up in this kind of world, is undoubtedly the perfect embodiment of this kind of personality.

Add to that the two sources of evil, Kor Phaeron and Aribas, and Luo Luojia has been trained like a dog for decades. Unless you have a barbarian like Zhuang Sen who can smash your dog's head with one punch no matter how much nonsense you spout, everyone will be twisted.

Mordred could understand Luojia's madness; after all, barren soil could not grow vibrant flowers or lush forests.

Once upon a time, Mordred had a friend from an ordinary family. However, from a young age, her parents constantly told her that since their family wasn't well-off, she had to work hard and be diligent, and not think about anything else, because she was the hope of the whole family.

The result was that although this friend had carved out a path, he was not happy. He was like a dark goblin who feared the sunlight, even though he was not bad-looking and had excellent appearance.

During a business trip, under the influence of alcohol, this friend confided in Mordred, saying that he hated his parents so much that they made him rot into a pile of mud at the age when he should have been in his prime.

This friend's ending was not good. In less than half a year, he was blown up into Lego bricks by a FAB-500 and went straight to another world.

But while Mordred could understand, he couldn't stand Luojia rubbing his snot and tears all over him. This was no ordinary lunatic; he had to Strike Hard.

No matter how Mordred beat him, Luojia clung to him like a leech. Even after using the Electric Chair that had once shocked Alpharius, Luojia looked quite pleased and asked for a higher voltage.

When the belt used to discipline Fulgrim was pulled, Luojia was overjoyed and chuckled to himself in the room when no one was around.

Left with no other choice, Mordred had to resort to his long-forgotten Titan Training Method.

Watching the Golden Word Envoy skillfully maneuver through the dense hail of bullets, untouched by a single bullet, even radiating golden light and unfurling dazzling wings like Great Angel, directly breaking through layers of blockade and smashing the Titan's cockpit with a single hammer blow, Mordred silently lit a cigarette.

The second-runner has clearly memorized the map, and the invincible Titan Training Method has fallen! For an ultimate masochist who sees pain as a reward, physical education has become a negative example.

Even wanting a cigarette was forbidden; Sally, appearing out of nowhere, flicked the cigarette butt away, pulled out a thick stack of approval lists, and shoved it into his hand, indicating that he should get back to work and that smoking was bad for his health and would shorten his lifespan.

"...

For two whole days, Mordred stayed in his room, deep in thought. He just couldn't understand why Luojia, who was already so powerful, still needed to worship a great god.

With that kind of ability, if you focused your energy on the Great Crusade, the Warmaster Position might just be yours. Do you really need someone to lord it over you and whip you?

In the end, however, Mordred still found a way to control Luojia: a book on Child Psychology that Guilliman handed her.

Inside the Abomination, Mordred and Guilliman, lounging on the sofa, exchanged a glance and nodded in Luojia as they watched Luo Jia diligently revising documents at a rate of one ton every half hour.

"Boss, wasn't my method good? To deal with a masochist like this, you have to praise him, don't treat him like an adult."

"Indeed, I didn't expect you to be so smart, Guilliman. It seems Mom did a good job raising you. By the way, I feel like there's something strange about you."

"Huh? How could that be? It must be that my father cursed me to kneel for too long. My thighs are still weak."

Looking at Guilliman sitting upright in front of him, Mordred felt more and more uneasy, even feeling a strange sense of familiarity, especially those eyes, which were unusually lively.

According to the files Mordred had previously written for each of his brothers, Guilliman was a super- Cogitator was always lost in thought.

Even during one-on-one duels, he would still have his mind on how to increase Macragge's total grain production, which made Guilliman seem a bit dull most of the time.

But Guilliman now has such a lively look in his eyes that he seems like a completely different person, especially his slightly narrowed, dreamy little eyes, which make him look like a Dog-men.

"Dog-men?"

"What kind of Dog-men?"

The sudden sound interrupted Mordred's thoughts. Looking at Luo Jia, who was huddled in the middle of the sofa, gazing at him with pleading eyes, Mordred snapped out of his Luojia, reached out and ruffled her hair, praising her:

"My dear little sister, you're the best! You've finished your work, haven't you? Go and connect with your offspring; you haven't been back to the legion for a week. Don't let the waiting become a regret."

"Received, Second Brother!"

Hearing that Luojia had finally changed his form of address, Mordred was quite pleased, but still corrected him, "When we're working, we use titles. I am the acting acting Legion Commander of the Word Bearers, and you are just a Captain now. You don't want to disappoint your superior, do you?"

"I will live up to the Legion's expectations!"

"Alright, go quickly. Make sure to stabilize morale. From now on, those who still speak don't need to do anything. Just stay here and receive ideological education. In three days, I will reveal the truth of all this to you."

Looking at the wretched creature that had lingered on him for so long before finally leaving, Mordred felt a deep sense of dread for his family. It was all Kor Phaeron and Aribas's fault; their quick death was too good for them.

As Mordred pondered this, he suddenly felt a strange chill, the source of which was none other than Guilliman standing beside him.

Mordred might have been able to coax and gradually educate Luojia, but if it were Guilliman looking at her with that yearning gaze, it would have been utterly disgusting.

Without any hesitation, Mordred punched Guilliman's big face and slammed it into the Little Blondie's mouth, spitting out:

"Guilliman, my hunch was right! Tell me, who the hell are you? You're definitely not my dimwitted brother!"

When Luojia recounted it before, he didn't believe it. He thought, how could Guilliman possibly curse Yellow Skins and even touch his butt? Now he believes it; his brother must have been possessed by a ghost.

As everyone knows, there are no ghosts in this world, only Daemon, so "Sorry, brother, I have to beat this Daemon off you today."

Without giving the other party any chance to react, Mordred kicked Guilliman aside, straddled him, and pulled out a Fel Energy brick, repeatedly slapping it against the large face while yelling:

"You know me, I have plenty of ways to deal with you. Get off my brother now, or I'll make you regret it."

"Then get off him first!"

"Bah! I, Mordred, will never compromise."

"Boss, don't hit me! It's me, Rambo!"

Upon hearing this, Mordred indeed stopped hitting the brick in his hand. Before Guilliman could even relax, he heard Mordred roar through gritted teeth:

"How dare you threaten me with my most beloved disciple! You're asking for death!"

After beating him for a full half hour, seeing that Guilliman's head was swollen and he was about to die, Mordred finally left him.

"Tell me, who exactly are you?"

"I really am Rambo, boss. Have you forgotten the time we peeked at Casca taking a bath on the plains and got beaten up by Old Thomas?"

"Ah, you dare to pry into my memories!"

Rambo was speechless, saying, "Boss, use your brain! Anyone who tries to pry into your memories will become an idiot. Even the Emperor suffered because of this. Wake up!"

"Are you really Rambo? But why?"

"There's no why, boss. Our plan failed. I can't say too much. Just remember, I'm not who I am now."

You've made your final choice, and the future looks bleak, but you told me there was still hope.

"What's the meaning?"

Mordred was eager to get to the bottom of things, but before he could even speak, the sparkle in Guilliman's eyes vanished instantly, replaced by the stiff, angry Ece1 form once more.

"Second Brother, how did I get here? Wait! What happened to my face?"

"It's nothing, Old Man Huang beat me up."