Hell God of War, why was I so trash in the past?

Since the conclusion of the Council of Nicaea and Mordred's abrupt departure, the mood among all the Primarchs has been rather sour.

It wasn't just Mordred who felt this way; almost all Primarchs harbored a grudge.

Apart from the first few Primarchs to return to the Empire, almost half of the Primarchs who returned later were discovered by Mordred, or rather, by Tom.

As the foundation of a legion, the Gene-Seed can be said to be the lifeblood of a legion. Rationally speaking, using a legion's Gene-Seed is equivalent to taking someone else's bank card.

You say it's important? It certainly is, but the problem is that Atlas didn't steal the Gene-Seed from other legions; they created them themselves.

This is an ethical question: is a completely fresh Gene-Seed, unused by the recipient and containing no Space Marine combat memories, truly one's own?

If you say he doesn't count, then genetic testing is the Gene-Seed of one's own legion, possessing all the characteristics of that legion.

But if you're going to say it counts, this thing is like a blood pack. You can't say someone is your clone just because they donated your blood.

In this era where the Legion reigns supreme and Primarchs are incredibly active, Gene-Seed are not as precious as they are in the future. They are a renewable resource, since the Primarchs are still around and can produce as many as they want.

It is the real seeds that wait for people, not people waiting for seeds.

Looking back on Mordred's care for them, it's not an exaggeration to say he was like a father to them; he was certainly better than that Golden Giant.

After much deliberation, the Primarchs decided to pretend they didn't know. How could mere Gene-Seed compare to their unbreakable brotherhood?

"My second brother Second Brother must have his reasons for doing this."

I hesitated then. Could I live up to the dividends sent to me every year? Could I live up to the infrastructure development of our home planet? Atlas is our money bag, and I still want to be Warmaster.

Damn it, you bunch of filthy Vermin, how dare you sow discord among our brothers! You deserve to die!

The cat and dog duo were always the first to act. Zhuang Sen and Russ exchanged a glance, then looked at the gloomy-faced Koz, and the three of them instantly broke into bright and cheerful smiles.

In just three days, the networks of connections behind every member of parliament who came to Nikaea to participate in the meeting were exposed.

The meeting minutes were reviewed repeatedly, and if anyone showed schadenfreude or any disrespect, they shouldn't blame us for being ruthless.

Time heals all wounds and makes bloodshed fade. Atlas killed the most zealous ones, but some always slipped through the net.

After all, Atlas's main business is not this, and this matter needs to be handled by professionals, but the impact of this meeting goes far beyond that.

Looking at the group of young people who were celebrating wildly as if they had won some great victory, the seasoned politicians who had experienced the Great Purge of the Sol Sector had long since drawn a line between themselves and the government.

They even started taking matters into their own hands, eliminating dissidents first.

Especially those factions that secretly colluded with Atlas, they've completely stopped pretending. If I don't stand up and cheer them on now, wouldn't all my previous efforts have been wasted?

Some things may seem insignificant on the scale, but once weighed, they can be as heavy as a thousand pounds.

If you're looking to die, don't drag us down with you. The Second Highness may no longer be the Warmaster, but you bunch of worthless bastards, don't you ever think about why Atlas did something like this and it hasn't been discovered yet?

The most crucial point is the involvement of the Burning Legion, which was only briefly mentioned.

Those who lack sophistication may not understand, but those who do know will realize the sky has fallen, especially the old guard who have followed the Emperor to the death.

For the sake of Webway Project, His Majesty didn't even tell the Primarchs. Now, you've brought up the Burning Legion; are you going to investigate what the Burning Legion did?

Please, stop investigating. You can't investigate everything, can you?

We can't say that Atlas was keeping Daemon, colluding with Xenos, and concealing the whereabouts of massive amounts of supplies because the entire Second Legion was someone's Black Glove.

The younger generation sees these old fogies as cowardly. Justice cannot be killed. Atlas may be arrogant for a while, but he can't be arrogant forever. Don't you see they don't dare to move now?

The empire is now thriving, and its expeditions are yielding victory after victory. The time for rewarding merit and dividing the spoils is fast approaching. If not now, when?

Atlas has indeed made no move. Not only has it made no move, but it has even retreated on a large scale. But the more this happens, the more panicked they become, especially those who have lived long enough to have experienced the early stages of the expedition.

Next up are the Dark Angels, the Civil War God of Phantoms; the Space Wolves of the Military Police Brigade; the Night Lords, the Righteous Thug; the Warm-Hearted Mighty World Eaters; the Merciful Old Farmer Death Guard; the Imperial Exemplar, the Son of the Emperor; Moon Wolves, who judges people by their personalities...

Even the Imperial Fists, under Dorn's orders, turned a blind eye, allowing the entire city of Dalian to take administrative leave, thus opening a direct path to Holy Terra.

"Lizard High Commander Renekton, who is our Primarch's sworn brother, is now going on strike. You're really asking for it."

In just half a month, a large number of imperial officials committed suicide after being shot 13 times in the back, forcing the Adeptus Mechanicus to begin mass production of the Penance Mech. Those Mechanicus were practically laughing their heads off.

Meanwhile, far away in Holy Terra, a certain Golden Giant is being relentlessly bombarded by Malcador.

"My Lord, you truly possess extraordinary wisdom. I even wonder if you have a Magnus inside your head?"

"No, it's two Roboute Guilliman that are having a blast. Even Roboute Guilliman are stronger than you."

But the Emperor seemed unfazed by Malcador's sarcastic remarks, even leisurely sipping his tea.

"I trust Mordred; he would never betray me."

"What? So good people get guns pointed at them? Your His Majesty, are you out of your mind? If you had just stepped in back then, this wouldn't have happened."

"How could I not show up? I acquiesced!"

"..."

Malcador was shocked. He suddenly recalled the scene when he drove Eldar away. Before she left, the old woman gave him a piece of advice, saying that she would regret it. Now he truly understood.

But the Emperor was still there, talking to himself:

"The Great Crusade is nearing victory, and I need to focus my energy on the Webway Project. Although I did screw Mordred over, I am his father, and he will understand."

[So, was I really that bad back then?]

"..."

The Emperor was stunned. As Malcador spoke, a Burning Fiercely dark golden flame suddenly appeared and surged into Malcador's body.

Before the Emperor could react, Malcador, whose eyes were flashing with dark gold, let out a sinister laugh. Perhaps due to some kind of wicked sense of humor, a tall, primitive man with bristling hair and beard, dressed in animal skins, appeared behind Malcador.

With just one glance, Neos couldn't help but exclaim:

"Father, you're not dead!"

"My son, your father is here to beat you! Hell God of War, come out here!"