Vulkan: Second Brother was right, I betrayed you again!

Mordred was indeed not lying; this Son of the Emperor truly possessed the most taut skin of them all.

As for the technology Atlas extracted from the Master Computer database, mere biological modification was a piece of cake.

Even under the tutelage of that learning machine, Mordred had begun to gradually explore the mysteries of the Primarch. The only thing that annoyed him was that noisy Blue Parrot.

Sometimes Mordred wondered if the learning machine Old Man Huang gave him was equipped with an Abominable Intelligence. Why did this moronic parrot always want him to acknowledge it as Father? Could this thing have been modified from a Subor Learning Machine?

"Damn it, useless Harkon, hoarding AI for yourself while forbidding others from using it—you're truly wicked."

Returning to the main topic, after confirming that his progeny were indeed free of issues, Fulgrim decisively adopted this treatment plan. As for those so-called add-on packages, they were entirely unnecessary; he had no desire for his progeny to turn into a bunch of freaks.

But Mordred hadn't brought him into the hive solely for this; his primary goal was to pitch his Spartan Warriors modification program.

As they moved, a training ground that recreated the top level of a Hive City in a one-to-one scale came into view, where a simulated urban combat exercise was underway.

Both sides were locked in fierce battle, with soldiers being declared Killed in Action at every moment. Even a Crusader Knight had been thrown into the mix to participate in this bloodless drill.

"Are those Space Marine? Why is their physique so thin, and why are there women among them?"

Knowing that this ignorant Fulgrim the Third would ask such a question, Mordred immediately halted the simulation and summoned a soldier.

A tall female warrior, standing two meters tall and clad in dark green armor, approached the two and gave a crisp, elegant salute:

"Spartan Phase I Officer, Halsey-023 reporting to you. Heh ha, I shall not fail the Legion's cultivation!"

"Hmm, not bad. I Know your name. I heard you once led people to duel my Canid Eight, and you didn't end up Killed in Action. You are indeed a fine warrior from Catachan."

Mordred's teasing made Halsey lower her head in shame. If she were given a chance to travel through time, she would never be foolish enough to provoke those eight Canid Eight. Heaven Knows why these dogs were all like monsters; not only were they thick-skinned and sturdy, but they could also breathe fire and summon lightning.

Especially that one called Seven, who had chased them down in a jeep until her leg was crushed.

"Your Highness, you jest. We were merely sparring with the eight instructors; we will Never Again dare to do so."

Halsey truly dared not, for a tall, red-and-white-furred dog had arrived behind her. It was none other than Seven, one of the Canid Eight who loved driving jeeps at high speeds, known as the Brilliant Pure Ice and a master of throwing axes.

"Boss, I have..."

"Shh, Seven, tell me later. Can't you see I'm securing benefits for the Legion? Go play on the side."

Seven scratched his dog head and obediently curled up in a corner, pulling out a data pad to play games while waiting for his Boss to finish his work.

Compared to the dogs seen everywhere in Serenity, a strangely colored dog was nothing special. Fulgrim was more curious about the so-called Spartan Warriors before him. He could see that this was a type of super-soldier that had undergone deep modification, but it was clearly still a far cry from a Space Marine.

Seeing that the fish had taken the bait, Mordred signaled for Halsey to continue training, while he produced a data list and handed it over:

"My purpose in creating the Spartan Soldier is to fill the niche between the Space Marine and the Auxilia, easing the pressure on legions with few members like Atlas and the Son of the Emperor.

By simplifying the thirteen Gene-Modding Surgery procedures modeled after the Space Marine, every Spartan Warriors will gain significant physical enhancement and a lifespan that exceeds that of an ordinary person.

Coupled with the Hazardous Environment Combat Suit I've crafted for them, they can absolutely be used as a budget, youth-version Space Marine.

And the best part is, the Spartan don't require the long cultivation cycle of a Space Marine, nor do they even need Gene-Seed. Just a bit of the Primarch's blood is enough, and as long as the compatibility succeeds, they can be mass-produced.

With them, legions with few members like ours won't have to worry about a shortage of troops. Do you know what this means?"

"It means you will be beaten to death by Father!" Fulgrim mercilessly attacked Mordred's fantasy.

The past six months of interaction had made Fulgrim clearly realize that his Second Brother had no sense of awe toward Father, and now that he had cooked up a knock-off Space Marine, his Ambition was clearly on full display.

"How could that be? I am contributing to the Great Crusade; Old Man Huang would be overjoyed."

Pulling his Little Brother aside, Mordred dragged him to a corner to continue detailing his grand plan:

"Little Brother, I treat you like a real brother. Don't you want to make the Son of the Emperor great again? Think about it: expanding the Legion requires Gene-Seed, and Gene-Seed isn't cabbage—not just anyone can use it.

As far as I know, even in the Fourth Legion, which has the highest compatibility and stability, not everyone can adapt to the seed. There are plenty of rejects, but the Spartan Warriors are different.

We can conduct a second selection from the rejects and let these good seedlings become Spartan to serve the Legion. The conversion rate can reach as high as thirty percent.

Even if it takes three of them to equal one, that's still half again as many troops. Besides, they aren't picky about gender, so why not?"

Fulgrim was indeed tempted. The Son of the Emperor already had few members; at their current scale, it might take a hundred years just to catch up to other legions.

A small legion meant they couldn't conduct large-scale warfare and could only perform point-raids, leaving the rest to the Auxilia.

Facing weaklings was fine, but if the enemy was even slightly strong, his own progeny might be fine, but the Auxilia would certainly be Killed in Action as fast as cutting wheat.

Without the coordination of the Auxilia, expecting the Space Marine to conduct a crusade alone was pure fantasy; they would be exhausted to death even if they were just killing pigs on a planet.

"But how do we ensure loyalty? They don't have Gene-Seed at all."

Hearing this, Mordred knew the kid hadn't read the experiment logs carefully. He gave him a sharp rap on the head and roared while pulling his ear:

"Are you blind? I wrote it clearly right here: depending on the blood sample of the Primarch used, the Spartan Warriors will exhibit characteristics similar to the Space Marine and develop a strong psychological identification with the Legion.

This was verified through control experiments using blood samples from you, me, and Vulkan. This attachment is even more pronounced; it is a psychological suggestion at the genetic level.

When the time comes, I'll call Vulkan over. The three of us will form a team and establish the Inner Circle of the Imperium. You be the Regent, I'll be the Emperor, and he can be the Warmaster. Wouldn't that be wonderful!"

Fulgrim was tempted, but stated he didn't want to be Regent; facing government affairs every day was undoubtedly a form of torture. He wanted to be Warmaster, forcing Mordred to swap positions.

"So, you tell me about such a good thing—what is the price?"

"The price is that the two of you are going to be severely disciplined by Father."

Hearing someone mention the Emperor, Mordred was truly enraged and roared:

"Bullshit. If you don't say anything and I don't say anything, how would he know, huh? I swear, you are truly thick-headed! Wait, who's talking?"

Spinning around instantly, Mordred wanted to see which blind fool it was, and then, he saw a figure that had no business being here.

"Rambo? How did you get back!

Buhao! Seven, you idiot, why didn't you report this to me?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, a golden light flew out from Rambo's collar, transforming into a golden gateway that revealed a Tall Figure in the space on the other side—it was none other than Vulkan, who was currently aboard the Emperor's Dream.

The moment he laid eyes on his Uncle, Mordred knew he was finished. If Vulkan knew, then the Emperor, that dog...

BANG!!!

A massive force struck him. After taking a heavy blow to the back of his head, Mordred's vision went black, and before he was sent flying through the wall like a shooting star, he managed to leave behind one final testament:

"Vulkan, you traitor!"