You're Ruining Me!

"What?! The Ultramarines have taken Port of Lions Gate? How dare he? I knew Guilliman was an Ambition man!"

"What about the Dark Angels and Atlas?"

"Reporting to the lord, no trace of the Dark Angels or Atlas has been found at the front lines. Everything is blue. I swear on my life that I am absolutely not mistaken."

Moreover, those Ultramarines occupied Lion's Gate and then stood still, even threatening to have us go and die, or else they would massacre the entire Holy Terra.

"Damn it, how dare they be so arrogant! They don't treat me like a human being at all! Investigate again and report back!"

"Yes!"

As the doors to the government hall slammed shut again, the Minister of the Interior Yittu, could no longer contain his rage. He overturned the table in front of him, yelling, "Trash! A bunch of trash! How could you lose such an important place Port of Lions Gate? Are the orbital defense forces just sitting around doing nothing? Prigozhin, you piece of garbage!"

"Me, trash? Yittu, how dare you call me that? You've only High Lord for a few years!" Imperial Navy Five-Star Prigozhin immediately attacked, grabbing a pencil from the side and throwing it at him.

"Tell me how to stop them? I've activated the orbital defense turrets, the Imperial Navy has surrounded them, and I've even deployed heavy forces to guard the orbital elevators. All that's missing is activating the Holy Terra Void Shield."

But what did they do? They arrived at the sect's port in the blink of an eye. Lookintomyeyes, tell me how to stop them? I can't exactly bombard Holy Terra, can I?

This is because of you, you, and all of you useless trash; it's because your intelligence is inadequate.

The navigator ambassador, the Ecclesiarch, the abbot of the Adeptus Astronomica, and the representative of the Rogue Trader remained silent, indicating that it was none of their business and that Guilliman was simply too wicked.

The official document clearly stated that less than one-tenth of the Expeditionary Force survived. 70,000 men went out, but their numbers only increased with each battle. Guilliman was the culprit; he had long wanted to kill us.

A bad soldier makes a bad army, and a bad general makes a bad troop. Seeing that his teammates were all more useless than the last, then-Pope Eldrich of the Ecclesiarch stepped forward:

"Stop arguing, all of you. It's just Port of Lions Gate. They're not occupying Holy Terra. Without artillery fire, they can't cause any trouble at all."

Don't forget, we have our people everywhere here. Have Astropathic Court send a telegram saying that Ultramarines Dark Angels Atlas is plotting a rebellion.

Also, send those four Chapter to fight. We've spent so much money and supported so many people; we're not letting them do nothing.

I am the Ecclesiarch, I am the mouthpiece of the God-Emperor. Those who dare to act Holy Terra will regret it.

Before the Pope could finish speaking, the doors of the Department of Administration opened again, and the messenger who had left earlier returned, kneeling on one knee and reporting:

"My lord, several Chapter Masters have come to offer their advice, wishing to share your burdens! Moreover, they say they have devised a perfect plan that can absolutely eliminate the insects and shoot down the sun, thus relieving our immediate crisis."

"Excellent! Truly Loyal Officials and Good Generals. With such Fealty men, how can we not achieve our great cause? Quickly, invite them in."

As the messenger departed once again, the councilors felt much more at ease. They hadn't expected the person they had chosen to be so loyal, and they all praised the Grand Master of the Assassinorum for his ability to recognize talent.

They even started discussing, for the first time ever, adding seats to parliament and giving these Fealty and patriotic individuals a rotating seat.

As for why they didn't give permanent seats, isn't that obvious? They'll give them a little something in return; they can't really give them real benefits! If you're going to be a dog, you have to be prepared to be one.

"That's right, if you're going to be a dog, you have to be prepared. But to put their minds at ease, I'll go and bring them in!"

The speaker was none other than Fadix, the Grand Master of the Assassinorum. This move drew praise from the lords, who were surprised that this ruthless Embryonic Killer, who had always been at odds with them, was so cooperative.

Because of the Vanghelich Incident, the Assassinorum, despite being an ancient organization established in the Mid-Great Crusade, has always been on the periphery of the High Lords Council.

Even though the Assassinorum possesses formidable military strength, it remains at the bottom of the power hierarchy, essentially a lower-level councilor. Aside from having a fixed vote, its status is not much different from that of a rotating seat.

Since Fadix volunteered to do the chores, the High Lord naturally wouldn't refuse; on the contrary, he saw it as a gesture of goodwill.

What they didn't know was that as soon as Fadix stepped out, he turned into a small room, and standing in front of him was none other than Trajan, the Marshal of the Adeptus Custodes who had orchestrated this whole affair.

"Our plan has finally succeeded." Yes, the Operation Paperclip has been a complete success. Your deeds will not be forgotten. Tell me, what reward do you desire?

The Grand Master shook his head. As a warrior and the Empire's most dangerous assassin, even after ten thousand years, the Assassinorum still maintained its ancient traditions and did not need rewards. After all, Fealty was the best reward.

"No reward is needed. As Grand Master of the Assassinorum, serving the Empire is my duty. But as for Fadix, I have a question for you, and I hope you can satisfy my curiosity."

"Marshal, according to the records, you were born in the upper echelons of Terra 888 years ago. You were chosen while you were still in the womb and trained as a member of the Adeptus Custodes in the Holy Imperial Palace."

"Yes."

Fadix nodded and continued, "After that, you became an Allarus Custodian and won two Blood Game, earning the position of Shield-Captain."

Afterwards, they joined forces with the Dark Angels to destroy wrecked spaceships and spent centuries leading attacks both inside and outside the Solar System, launching 23...

The second independent Solar System blockade strike ultimately led to the drinking of the Maelstrom.

This was an extremely glorious victory. People say you have the courage of ten thousand men, no less than the Lion King.

It was precisely because of this achievement that he was recommended by Marshal of the Adeptus Custodes Little Cat of the Imperial Guard to become the 17th Marshal of the Adeptus Custodes.

Well, no matter how many times it happens, whenever the Previous Marshal is mentioned, I still feel that the name of your Adeptus Custodes is extremely abstract.

But none of that matters. What matters is that during the 23rd blockade strike, you met Belisarius Kaul, which ultimately led to His Highness Guilliman's return.

"You investigated me?"

"Just a professional habit."

As he spoke, Fadix narrowed his eyes. Chemical agents, deadly even to Space Marine, Roared through his veins, energizing his mortal body, which was at the pinnacle of combat prowess.

"Then I must ask you, why have you become such a different person since His Highness Guilliman's return? You even know the Oath-Tithe, which only our Grand Master of the Assassinorum know. It is because of this law that I cooperated with you."

As an Eversor Assassin, I know I don't have your wisdom, and I don't care who is right or wrong, but we are the blades forged by the Arch-Magos to protect His Majesty.

The Assassinorum has been loyal for generations, with no one ever betraying them, not even the Vanghelich, who only wanted to set things right.

So here's the question: how do you know about the Oath-Tithe? And how are you so familiar with our Assassinorum?

The timing doesn't match, and neither do your relationships. What secret are you hiding? I have reason to suspect that you've been possessed by Chaos. You're probably going to say next that I'm mortal enemies with Chaos, right?

"Bullshit! I swear I will never forgive Chaos! You bastard!"

Knowing the other party would answer like that, the Grand Master smiled without saying a word. Although he was a reckless man, he enjoyed the thrill of intellectually crushing others, feeling a tickle in his own head.

Perhaps due to the overdose of biochemical agents, in order to ensure absolute safety, before going to the meeting alone, the Grand Master also injected himself with a terrifying drug called the Nine Bird Power, which had long been lost in the Empire, so that his muscles were now swollen all over and he could only slightly grin.

But it was all worth it. The Nine Bird Power, though a forbidden drug, was a combat potion used exclusively by the original Magnus, the Primarch of the Daemon Primarch. It could cause muscles to swell and grant extraordinary intelligence.

However, its medicinal properties are too domineering and violent; ordinary people would inevitably die from its use. It must be taken in combination with Little Sunflower Liver Protection Tablets to neutralize its medicinal properties and obtain the Nine Bird Power.

However, even with the Little Sunflower Liver Protection Tablets, this combat drug is still too overpowered; only Eversor Assassin in the Assassinorum, can use it due to his strong drug resistance.

Even so, it cannot be used too much. Overuse will make people muddled and narrow-minded, not only losing their extraordinary wisdom but also turning them into idiots.

The Grand Master Vanghelich was transformed into a terrifyingly muscular freak due to excessive drug use.

"Hahaha, trying to hide it from me? Hmph, impossible!"

"You hid it so well that no one could discover your little secret, but even with such a brilliant disguise, you overlooked a crucial detail."

"Detail?"

"That's right, as everyone knows, the Adeptus Custodes, regardless of age or gender, are all a bunch of perverts who love to run around naked, and you, Trajan, you Daemon, have never taken off your helmet to this day."

"You wouldn't believe it, but I've been watching you for ten years. I was watching you from the corner even when you were sleeping, showering, or using the toilet."

Logically, I should have been spying on you for the rest of my life, but you couldn't resist and actually came to me for a private talk beforehand. Now that I've done it for you, you have to satisfy my curiosity.

"Take off your helmet to show your Fealty. I'm not afraid to tell you, I received three injections before coming here. Even if you're Greater Daemon, I'm confident I can take you down with me."

Trajan dumbfounded. Compared to being spied on for ten whole years, he was more curious about how this bastard had managed to sneak into the Imperial Palace. How could the Imperial Palace be like a toilet, where anyone could just walk in?

"Stop, you could have just asked me directly, why did you have to make such a fuss? And I want to correct you on one point, I'm not one of those streaking perverts, wearing clothes is normal, I'm the normal one, they're the abnormal ones."

Anyway, the die is cast, so I won't hide it anymore. Don't get excited, I'll take off my helmet right now."

Having said that, Trajan, to show his sincerity, took a step back, slowly placed his hands on both sides of the helmet and lifted them up. With a slightly comical sound, the helmet was completely removed.

"Pop~"

Holy crap, that's a flashy dog!

- Separator line with a kiss ·

Those who frequently plot rebellion know that the most important thing to do in order to "purge the emperor's inner circle" is to control public opinion and seize the power of discourse. Regardless of whether the other side is righteous or evil, just label a Han Dynasty as such, and vice versa.

This is why, throughout history and across the world, those who staged coups first controlled radio stations, broadcasts, and all other means of transmitting information outward—the key was speed, accuracy, and ruthlessness.

Above all that is the army. The reason is quite simple: how can you win a complete war if you don't have any soldiers?

If you don't have troops under your command and haven't completely sealed off the capital, then it's a complete joke, and you're just insane.

But just as there are all sorts of birds in a large forest, human diversity is incredibly varied. In Old Terra Era, there was a local ruler who played a trick by lighting beacon fires to amuse his subjects, ultimately leading to his own demise.

Even more abstract is that he couldn't even copy homework properly, and before causing trouble, he cut the army's rations, making his soldiers hate him so much that they looked like they were grinning at him, making people wonder if he was even human.

However, this kind of Abstract Maneuver won't happen to Mordred. The only limitation for him is the scarcity of Atlasian. So, is there a ruthless young man just like Atlas?

Yes, some brothers, the Dark Angels is the perfect fit. Carrying a greatsword and wielding Dual Pistols, with a little hood on, he'll surely bring endless Kiya to everyone!

Immediately after the raid on the sect, the Expeditionary Force split into three groups: the vanguard feigned sleep while the rear raided, the numerous and powerful Ultramarines drew attention forward, Zhuang Sen led a raid from behind, and Mordred directly led a group through time and space to launch a surprise attack on the Astropathic Fortress located in the North Pole.

Amidst the deafening roar of exploding bombs and the acrid ozone produced by plasma scorching the air, one Atlas after another stormed into the fortress.

Looking at the filthy blood spreading at his feet, Mordred clicked his tongue and commented in the Mind Network: "Sammael, your methods are really too crude. If it were in the past, you might not even have been able to leave the Catachan training camp, let alone graduate."

The goal wasn't to kill; the important thing was control—to break them down with fear, to make them tremble with dread.

These are all future assets of Atlas. It would be such a waste to kill such a useful Astropath; just chop off his limbs.

Mordred's voice spread through the Mind Network. Unlike his usual abstract and silly demeanor, Atlas never spoke during battle.

The Mind Network connects everyone's thoughts; without communication or discussion, a single thought is enough to execute a command.

Through the Mind Network, Mordred was able to view each battlefield from the perspective of her offspring. Ten thousand years of silence had caused Atlas to lose its former glory, which, in Mordred's words, was crude and inefficient.

But this was just the beginning. Atlas had no shortage of adaptability, and a large number of memory fragments from the Legion era were scattered into the Mind Network.

As one stronghold after another was wiped out, more and more resistance fighters had their limbs cut off, their tongues pulled out, and their teeth crushed, and Atlas's steps became increasingly light and casual.

The half-ton armor was not a constraint, but rather another layer of skin.

The Raven Guard can hide half a company behind a single tree; this is their talent and their characteristic. The Night Lords can shatter will with fear; this is their skill and their very essence.

Atlas may not be as strikingly outstanding as his cousin, but being unremarkable is also a kind of talent. The shadows are generous in bestowing blessings upon him, and fear accompanies him, ultimately turning the impossible into the possible.

The noise gradually subsided, and eventually the entire fortress fell into complete silence, with only sporadic wails echoing intermittently, signaling the arrival of judgment hidden in the shadows.

Humming an unknown tune, she continued to stride forward. No one would stop Mordred's steps; Atlas would clear away any obstacles first.

At 3 minutes and 12 seconds, the final moment of the fall of Astropathic Fortress arrived. Atlas guarded their Gene-Lord, and every warrior gazed at Mordred with longing eyes.

"Well done."

"Hey ha, I've lived up to the Legion's expectations!"

Ten thousand years later, Mordred heard that response again, and was overwhelmed with emotion. His previously composed demeanor shattered instantly, and he couldn't suppress the smile on his face.

"Good, as expected of my offspring, you truly have the style I had back then. Roland, have you done what I asked you to do?"

"Reporting to Father, the mission you entrusted to me has been a complete success. I have obtained all the call records of the Terra officials. With this list, none of them will escape."

What a bunch of Vermin! So extravagant and wasteful, hoarding so many resources yet showing no filial piety to their father—it's utterly outrageous!

"Huh!? Roland, what are you saying? I think you've gone mad from being Ultramarines. What do you mean by 'paying tribute'? This was originally ours."

"Ah, Father is right, this is ours, it is ours!"

Mordred was quite pleased to see his offspring realize their mistake and return to the right path. As the saying goes, treasures and wonders belong to the virtuous, and Mordred not only possessed virtue, but also two kinds of virtue. If you were to give him a blank sheet of paper and ask him to list all his surnames, he would not only have two kinds of virtue, but he would have far more than that.

"Father, what should we do next? Should we inform the other two princes?"

Mordred nodded, indicating that he would definitely notify them. The reason why we at Atlas are successful is because we believe in the principle of "if we survive, others will too."

Of course, everyone should get a share when distributing the spoils, but you, Roland, need to be smart. What you hold isn't just a list; it's the seed money for Atlas's future, so it must be done "fairly and impartially."

"Father, I know. I'm not stupid."

"You little rascal, no wonder you studied at Ultramarines, you pick things up right away. Go find your uncle, and remember to make sure you do it cleanly."

"Mission accomplished!"

Mordred was quite confident in Roland, this reserve role player, and even saw a resemblance to Goff in him.

Thinking of this, Mordred became even more motivated. He had to revive his Four Heavenly Kings as soon as possible, especially Goff, who was just a Primarch, while Goff was the Legion Commander.

Before that, Mordred must use this opportunity to accumulate enough resurrection coins for Atlas. Only in this way can the Legion be resurrected, since resurrection costs money, and it is quite expensive.

As for expecting Mordred to work hard to earn money like he did back then, that's absolutely impossible. He'll never work in his life; nothing beats stealing.

Secretly calculating the time, after a full three hours of silence across the entire spectrum, Mordred did not hesitate and directly cut off Terra's interstellar communication.

As for the Divine Seal Terminal as a backup system, it's even simpler. Mordred is the creator of the Divine Seal Network, so getting a network cable is as easy as eating or drinking.

At the same time, the instant Terra communications were completely paralyzed, a Warp storm arose from Holy Terra, plunging the entire human homeworld into complete isolation.

This sudden event disrupted the trio's plans. Even Guilliman, a Psychic Power Muggle, sensed something was wrong and said to his reunited buddies:

"What do you think Father is doing? Is he really stupid or just pretending?"

"It? That word is very apt." Zhuang Sen agreed with Guilliman's assessment. Although he hadn't witnessed the Emperor's madness like Guilliman, he had seen the white-bearded old man in his visions.

It's one thing to be superstitious, but to put on Arthurian play? Does he really think I, Zhuang Sen, am uneducated? Besides, I've been asleep for 10,000 years; I should be Prince Snow White. At least Prince Snow White had seven Titan Legion to save the Princess.

"Come on, maybe the Yellow Skins has dementia, but dementia is unlikely. I'm more inclined to believe he's just trying to cover for himself because he's afraid of getting beaten up. I know him too well."

Now everything is ready except for the final push. Zhuang Sen, it's time for us brothers to join forces again. Come closer, both of you.

"Bring it on!"

Seeing his Second Brother about to unleash their combined attack, a teleportation technique, Guilliman couldn't deny his envy. But ever since he entrusted Rambo to Trajan's caretaker, he'd become timid, unable to even unleash a single energy blast, and could only stare helplessly.

Soon, with Mordred's combination of battery, humanoid supercomputer, and positioning radar, the Lion King's Forest Walk remained effective even without the forest as a reference point.

A supernatural, chilling mist pierced through layers of obstacles, and twisted, winding tendrils spread from the steel capital, accompanied by Grassland Illusion that enveloped every soldier around. The Expeditionary Force, which was originally at Port of Lions Gate, was instantly teleported to the outskirts of the Imperial Palace.

Before this, everyone was prepared for a tough battle, but when the group arrived, the expected strong counterattack did not occur; instead, something rather strange happened.

The reason was that in the huge square outside the Imperial Palace, a large number of Space Marine sat on the ground, some sunbathing, some playing cards, some playing games, and some even having Hot Pot together, but not a single one of them was raising a gun to shoot.

More abstractly, upon discovering the arrival of outsiders, this group of thugs instantly stood up and stared at them with a rather sinister look.

That deep-seated, undeniable aura of apathy was impossible to fake; Guilliman and Zhuang Sen immediately looked at the stunned Mordred.

"Second Son, Second Brother, was this also part of your plan?"

"Ah! Me? Did I make the plan?"

Even the Lion King was so angry he laughed, and even Guilliman couldn't hold back. "Second Brother, I've figured it out now. Everyone says I'm Ambition, but you're the most Ambition one."

"These people are all yours, inside and out. It couldn't be that the High Lord did it on purpose, could it?"

Mordred wanted to retort, he didn't know what was going on, but he wasn't given a chance to argue. Four figures rushed over and grabbed his legs in front of 110,000 Space Marine and millions of Auxilia.

"Father! You've finally arrived. It's cold outside, quickly put on a robe."

"Huh? This robe looks so familiar!"

"Father, you jest. This is indeed the cloak the Lord Emperor wore on the battlefield. Now Terra is ours, and you are its Lord of Terra!"

"Am I the Lord of Terra?"

"Right!"