How did the Imperium become like this?

If Mordred is most like anyone, it is undoubtedly Eldar, as the Yellow Skins himself admits, and even Horus can attest to this.

After all, during the years Horus and Mordred were like brothers, Horus truly witnessed firsthand how Eldar brutally abused Makara. These two madmen had transcended the realm of humanity, choosing sex over godhood.

Frankly speaking, the various Abstract Maneuver in Greek mythology are not simply the product of human imagination; they may even be realistic depictions.

Who knows, on some dark and stormy night, the crazy couple might want to do something exciting and end up turning into a cow.

But none of that matters. What matters is that Azmodai can't see Mordred's true face at all.

A golden retriever with a bad temper, ruthless and obsessed with saving face, who likes to draw his knife and fight each other, was once Imperial Warmaster, deeply trusted by the Emperor, knows so many little secrets, and most importantly, can teleport.

Who could this be? This is none other than the Imperial Warmaster, Lord of Caliban, Knight among Knights, Man among Man, the great First Legion Primarch Lion King!

It couldn't possibly be Horus, the rebellious Primarch who doesn't even have a head, could it? Even if it were Ferrus, it shouldn't be; at least you should have a head.

Actually, Mordred had already noticed someone on the roof when he was talking about the Adeptus Custodes; after all, Big Mo had been a spymaster for several years. But he initially thought it was Salamanders, never imagining it was Dark Angels.

Using her sense of smell, Mordred detected the green Paint Scheme on Azmodai and didn't smell the stench from the Deathguard, leaving only the Salamanders with the green Paint Scheme.

After all, Mordred's memories are still stuck 10,000 years ago, when the Dark Angels's Paint Scheme was black. The only difference between it and Atlas was that the Dark Angels's black had a hint of green, while Atlas's black had a hint of red.

Therefore, it is quite reasonable for errors in judgment to occur.

But Mordred soon realized something was wrong, thinking, "I was just about to mention Vulkan's Dark Sword, and you lizard brat still haven't shown up."

It is indeed empiricism that kills people. After Fulgrim finished speaking, Mordred, no matter how unwilling he was to believe it, had only one choice left.

Damn, it's Dark Angels with a cucumber Paint Scheme job! It's so much worse now! I can't beat it at all.

Without the slightest hesitation, Mordred activated the scrap portion of Zhuang Sen's body within her.

Sure enough, after sensing the connection with the Gene-Seed, Mordred was blessed with a healthy baby boy.

"That's right, I am Lion El'Jonson, Lord of Caliban, the second..."

"Hush, Father, be careful what you say. The First Legion No Secrets, and the Second Imperium doesn't exist at all."

Looking at the loyal little Canned One in front of him, Mordred was already cursing in his heart. He thought to himself, "Zhuang Sen, you bastard, you stole my idea! I am the founder of the Second Legion!"

What have you all been doing all these years while I was gone?

[So you're not from the First Legion?]

[Shut up. From now on, I will teach you Atlas's first lesson—fishing in troubled waters. Watch carefully and learn well.]

In the meantime, you can go watch cartoons.

To prevent the silly Jeanne from giving herself away, Mordred directly shared his complete memories of Ultraman Tiga and Tom and Jerry with her.

However, outwardly, Mordred still reached out and slapped Azmodai on the head. This action instantly overwhelmed Azmodai with a tremendous sense of happiness, and he struggled to suppress his smile to avoid being disrespectful in front of the Primarch.

"You're right, Fealty that isn't absolute is absolutely Fealty. Hold your head high. Our First Legion is the benchmark among all legions. Take that death grin off your face right now."

These words further solidified Azmodai's belief in Mordred's identity. Just look at his tone, his demeanor, and his habit of slapping people on the head at the drop of a hat—who else could it be but the Lion King?

Others are unclear, but Azmodai was an interrogating priest who had met with Legion Commander Nemiel.

The elder had already said that his Primarch's signature move wasn't the longsword in his hand, but the Lion's Head Fist. Others might have different opinions, but Elder Nemiel would never be wrong, after all, he had indeed been beaten up.

As for why the Lion King would appear in this form, Azmodai said, "Mind your own business."

Perhaps noticing something amiss in the young man's eyes, Mordred stepped in to cover it up, saying, "I have been asleep for countless years, unable even to retain my physical form. I had no choice but to take over this body."

From now on, you must treat this sister named Jeanne with the same respect you have shown me.

Now, tell me everything you know. I must integrate into the current empire as soon as possible. By the way, what's your name again?

"Azmodai, Father, my name is Azmodai!"

Glancing at Azmodai's distinctive hood and the heavily religious symbols, Mordred felt as if she had swallowed a dead fly.

"Great name! It sounds optimistic and positive; you must be a cheerful and open-minded child."

Mordred guessed correctly; the Azmodai before him was the one from the depths of his memory. The only difference was that the current Azmodai wasn't as obsessed as the one in his memory, and surprisingly, he was quite to his liking.

But thinking about it the other way around, someone who can connect with Mordred on the same wavelength is probably not a normal person.

Under Mordred's extraordinary charm, Azmodai revealed everything he should and shouldn't know without Mordred even trying to elicit information.

But the more Mordred learned, the darker his face became, and his emotions grew increasingly unstable. In the 10,000 years since he left, the Empire had completely deviated from his and the Emperor's vision and had begun to rampage toward a cesspool.

Mordred was furious, especially after hearing about the emergence of High Lord and the fact that Space Marine were constantly being controlled and ultimately used as dogs by mortals.

"How did the Empire become like this? You can even stand in this cesspool, what about the legions? Are the weapons in the hands of you unfilial descendants just firewood sticks?"

"Ah, Father, you are unaware of this. There are no longer any legions. They were broken down into Chapter ten thousand years ago. You have indeed been asleep for far too long."

"Chapter?"

Azmodai nodded, indicating that the Legion was ancient history. Ten thousand years ago, Imperial Regent Guilliman implemented the Astartes Codex, directly splitting the Legion into several sub -Scion Chapter, which are the current Chapter.

Father, if you're interested in this, I have an unused Astartes Codex here. It's just that the paper is a bit stiff; you'll need to crumple it up before you go to the toilet.

Looking at the Astartes Codex that Azmodai had placed in front of him, Mordred felt a mix of emotions. He then opened the cover and saw the words Guilliman had left on the title page:

[Second Brother, your contributions will never be forgotten -- Robert Guilliman]

"(O_o)"

"Aaaaaah, Guilliman!"