That's Right, I Am Lion El'Jonson!

As the saying goes, you should love what you do.

Back when Serenity was playing the Grassland Brawl, Mordred was able to overpower the others and have the other Dog-men clans recognize him as their Great Chieftain not only because of his stats, but also because of his technological advantage.

As Dar Company's planetary amusement park and later the Ancient Battlefield of the Iron Men Rebellion, the Serene World is filled with all sorts of bizarre and wonderful junk.

Although it's called trash, it depends on the person. To the once invincible Human Federation, it was trash, but to Mordred, who was dirt poor and in the early stages of starting a business, it was a treasure.

Back when Mordred was still a pure and innocent 3k human, her main work area was in the Slav Region, and she would inevitably encounter some small items like relics along the way.

According to a certain customary rule, if there is any taboo surrounding this, one can call upon hyenas who specialize in this business to transport the relics back to find the person, and the proceeds will be split 30/70.

Of course, you only get 30% of the 30/70 split, and you shouldn't complain about that. After all, there are rules in every industry, and if you encounter a dishonest person, you might not even get 10%.

It was through this experience that Mordred firmly believed that there is no such thing as pure trash in the world, and that even a piece of toilet paper has its value.

It was precisely based on this philosophy that, after returning to the Empire, Mordred, leveraging Atlas's freight capabilities, directly contracted nearly 80% of the scrap metal recycling business during the Great Crusade, laying a solid foundation for the Legion's development.

Therefore, Mordred, who has already developed a path dependency, will naturally choose the glamorous path of scavenging after deleting his account and starting over.

Jeanne, the little Scavengers, was quite talented and quickly mastered the knowledge Mordred had taught her; the only thing she lacked was experience.

Looking at the empty-headed Scavengers at her feet, Mordred's voice echoed in Jeanne's mind:

"See that? This kid saw you found a good deal and has been eyeing you for a while now. From now on, if you see someone like that, either stay far away from them or don't hesitate, just take them out."

Now it's time for some fun looting! Quickly take out the nuclear fusion core from the third pocket on the left side of his backpack, and don't forget the circuit board that's been used as a knife.

With this thing, I can build you a water purifier. The water we drink now is worse than Russ's pee, and your farts are almost as bad as Barbarus's poison gas."

If the lords living in the upper echelons of the Hive City heard Mordred, they might find Mordred speech vulgar, but for the poor Jeanne, Mordred was the best teacher.

Not only was he approachable, but he also liked to tell some rather interesting and quirky stories. Most importantly, he provided Jeanne, who was struggling to survive, with someone to rely on, reminding her of her own mother.

Although gender is meaningless to Mordred, who is essentially just a lump of flesh and can transform into whatever he wants, even an armed helicopter, he still prefers to consider himself a macho man.

After all, "macho man" sounds powerful and domineering! He's not some lowlife like the Yellow Skins. Mordred couldn't even imagine how much fun that unlucky Emperor had gone through.

This can be seen from his trip to Rome with Horus. Eldar had ravaged Makara, subjecting Eldar to constant and extreme humiliation by that madwoman. I imagine the Yellow Skins wasn't much better off.

But none of that matters. What matters is that, thanks to Mordred's on-site guidance, the two of them no longer have to go hungry, and at least they've achieved the freedom to eat starchy porridge.

On the other hand, in the midst of this double-crossing, Mordred also absorbed some soul fragments. By catching and eating rats whenever he had the chance, and with the help of Jeanne, his human form, he finally achieved the power of one Kun!

In other words, Mordred, now piloting the Jeanne mecha, is now on par with the ground chickens on the Serenity mecha.

"Hahaha, it won't be long before we can leave this cesspool of the Underhive. Then we'll go to the upper Hive City to find out what's going on, and summon my good sons. Our good days will come."

My dear son, you have no idea, my offspring are not only good at talking, but their fighting spirit and patience are also amazing. They will definitely bring you a different kind of joy.

I'll personally perform the same Biochemical Alchemy as the Adeptus Custodes for you. As my second personally trained disciple, you'll be on a roll!

When it comes to making empty promises, Mordred, after two centuries of manipulation by the Emperor, had to learn to do it even if she didn't know how. She instantly captivated this naive young man with the Imperial Adeptus Custodes that Mordred spoke of.

"Mother,"

"Um?"

"Ah, Master?"

"Okay, from now on, you can call me Boss when there are no outsiders around. But if there are outsiders, remember to call Legion Commander."

Jeanne nodded, carrying the garbage bag as she walked towards the shack. After spending these days with him, she discovered that Mordred was a lazy, gluttonous, cunning, and particularly talkative person.

But if you know the trick, Mordred is very easy to get along with, and that trick is to flatter her to death.

"So, boss, what you said before was all true? I thought you were just bragging!"

"Tch, I, Mordred, have lived an upright life. If I have a grudge against someone, I'll kill them on the same day. Why would I need to fool you?"

"Indeed, what are those Adeptus Custodes?"

For a chatterbox like Mordred, the temptation of a straight man was irresistible. Mordred multitasked, manipulating Jeanne as she made the water purifier while saying:

"The Adeptus Custodes, those are the Dog's Leg beside His God-Emperor His Majesty mentioned. They're all golden and look like Corn. Besides their brute strength, they have extremely low taste, and they also like to run around naked."

"Streaking?"

Jeanne paused for a moment upon hearing the word. She noticed some dust falling from the ceiling, but assuming it was from a mouse, she paid it no mind.

"That's right. Others may not know, but as the Primarch, I know it all too well. Back when I first went to Holy Terra, there were three naked men making strange noises at the entrance of the Imperial Palace."

They actually smeared oil on themselves; it was an insult to my eyes.

But that's still relatively mild, since it's just a personal hobby. I also enjoy sunbathing while perched on a wall. The real heavyweights are the other legions."

"There are more experts?"

"Of course! You have no idea how many messes I had to clean up after when I was dealing with these problem kids."

If we start from the end and work our way back, each one is more important than the last.

Hydra's mind is abstract; everyone is Alpharius, directly attacking the right brain with the left, and the brainstem replaces thinking.

The Raven Guard may appear normal and then suddenly go berserk, but they suffer from a strange illness that can only be relieved by killing. They are all socially awkward and their favorite thing to do is to huddle in some nook or cranny.

The Salamanders seem docile, but they have a particular fondness for burning Aeldari children, and each one is incredibly dark-skinned. Vulkan, that rascal, also loves writing diaries and tattling on others—he's wicked! He even stole my chickens from my house."

Do you think someone who keeps a diary can be a decent person?

For Jeanne, whose cultural level was limited to burning books and burying scholars alive, writing a diary would be a complete waste of precious paper, so Vulkan must not be a respectable person.

"Not to mention those Word Bearers, there are very few famous ones, they are all just worshippers, they just kneel down and pray, especially that good-for-nothing Luojia, if she were even a little bit as obedient as you, I wouldn't be so angry."

"Don't even mention the 16th Legion; they're all obsessed with their fathers. Your bad luck is all because of that Rogue Trader charter; otherwise, you'd be living the high life by now."

Perhaps recalling something interesting, Mordred whispered again:

"I switched Horus shampoo. It looks like a 13-in-1, but it's actually a 14-in-1. I also put hair loss treatment in it."

The Thousand Sons were the heavyweights; their entire legion exuded a kind of extraordinary wisdom. Fortunately, they switched to muscle-bound sages halfway through their careers, thus avoiding being laughed at for life.

I still quite like Little Horse. He's honest, so honest, with an untainted innocence.

As for Death Guard, just skip it. Aside from its bad smell, it has no other drawbacks. But never drink Barbarus wine again; there's too much murky stuff there, and you won't know what to do with it.

What follows is more significant.

The perpetually late Ultramarines, the Ambition Primarch, who always says no, but Guilliman, that Little Blondie, is always the first to run when it comes to the club.

And then there's Angron. Although it's a bit hellish, I can tell you definitively that he was captured and forced into being Purple Mood back in Nuceria.

There's no one in the Iron Hands's Dreadnought, the Blood Angels love to drink blood, and the Night Lords seem impoverished but are actually incredibly wealthy; their homeland is made of Adamantium.

The Imperial Fists, true to his name, is like Dorn— a stinking rock in a latrine. Together with the Iron Warriors, they're known as the Earth and Wood Duo. Just call them dwarfs when you see them.

Fenris has no wolves, White Scars loves to race cars. However, Chagoris particularly good pasture, so I like to send people to steal their sheep to eat. I'll get you some some when I have the chance.

Just like I told you, the higher you go, the more important they become, especially the Son of the Emperor. If I hadn't given them a hand back then, they'd probably be stuck with nothing but hardship and poverty.

Especially Fulgrim, whom I personally fought and killed, but I never expected him to get together with Ferrus. I absolutely do not approve of this marriage.

Although she couldn't understand it, Jeanne was deeply shocked. Perhaps because she had merged with Mordred, the little girl also began to act wildly, showing the potential to become a bloodthirsty audience.

"And what about the rest?"

There was a man who was handsome, dashing, charming, loved by all, and had thick blond hair. He was skilled with a two-handed greatsword and called himself the Lord of Knights.

And he's Imperial Warmaster, highly regarded by Old Man Huang. Not only are there no secrets within the legion, but he's also incredibly Fealty and reliable. Can you guess who it is?

Hearing the incessant chanting in her mind, "It's me, it's me, it's me," Jeanne knew she had no choice at all, and pointed a finger at her own head:

"It must be you!"

As soon as she finished speaking, a lump of iron fell from the sky, landing directly in Jeanne's arms with a sharp, explosive sound.

"Father, no, Mother! I've finally found you."

Mordred's eyes sharpened instantly as she looked at the dark green Power Armor Paint Scheme the large man in her arms:

"That's right, it's me— Lion El'Jonson."