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Imperial Calendar 005. M41.

The eldest son of the God-Emperor, Lion, the second son Mordred, and the thirteenth prince, Robert, met in Baal. Seeing the suffering of the people and the dire state of the nation, they led their armies to Terra to carry out a heroic act of saving the country and its people.

However, at this critical moment for the empire, treacherous officials are in power, engaging in wicked and treacherous acts, which can be described as an enemy wreaking havoc on the court in Terra.

To save the country and its people from suffering, the three sons wish to join forces with High Lord to undertake a great undertaking and revitalize the court. This move is in accordance with the God-Emperor's will and benefits the people, and can be considered a matter of great importance to the nation.

However, the three sons were as wise and virtuous as ever, and were rare and good people. They were unaware of the chaos in the court and the evil of the treacherous officials. When they were paying their respects to their father, the emperor, they were besieged and attacked.

This situation is terrifying and unsettling.

As for the three sons' character, the eldest son, Lion, was loyal but not good at politics; the thirteenth son, Robert, was ambitious and domineering, but not good at martial arts; the Second Son had both qualities, being good at governance and diligent, and outstanding in martial arts.

Seeing how vicious and cruel the official was, the three sons were angry but not insane. They tried to reason with him and persuade him to turn back from his evil ways.

This virtue is moving throughout the ages, but can good advice truly dissuade us from the greed of parliament?

Since ancient times, loyalty and righteousness have been difficult to reconcile. For the prosperity of the country and the wealth of the people, the three sons' troops arrived with overwhelming force. Within three quarters of an hour, all the officials bowed down and were thus granted thirteen explosive bombs to save face.

Blood stained the sky, and not a single official was loyal to the emperor or the country. The three sons sighed and wept, kneeling and wailing, lamenting that this crime was a misfortune for the nation and a sin for them.

However, the nation's distress was not a sudden occurrence. To save the nation and its people, the ruler must be the first priority. The three sons gathered at the palace to meet their father.

They saw a guard dressed in the clothes of the Dorn of Dorne, who had protected the lord for over a hundred years. When asked his name, he said it was Sisyphus, the daughter of the ancient God-Emperor. His three sons wept with joy, a true example of brotherly love and respect.

After three days of contemplation, the four devised a brilliant plan, which they then implemented to alleviate their father's pain.

On the thirteenth day, the ruler recovered from his illness and said, "Having children like these is my great fortune."

"Fake! It's all fake! This is all unofficial history! You damn good people! I clearly saw you massacring Terra! Even if you compile this unofficial history into a legendary book, it won't change the fact that you beat me! You disloyal and unfilial bunch—ah!"

Mordred slammed a claw into Old Man Huang's ingrown toe, then extended its long tail to shield Guilliman behind it, spewing a torrent of abuse at the Yellow Skins: "Not a single word changed, just write it like this! You've only just woken up and you're already playing dead for us, you dog! You've really lost all sense of shame!"

"I wasn't faking death, I was just asleep. I am the Emperor, my power here is limitless. I want to eat Psyker, bring me my food now."

To be honest, something so shameless could never be some other monstrosity impersonating it; this is definitely the Emperor himself.

But the proper procedures still had to be followed, and Mordred immediately asked, "Are you a god?"

I Am Not a God!

Upon hearing this, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and then Mordred slapped him across the face. "Why are you yelling so loudly?"

"You-"

"What do you mean, 'you'? You dare talk back? You dog, it's easy for you to talk when you're sitting here. You've been sitting on the toilet for 10,000 years, and the empire has become like this, and you don't even care? Hand over my scarf."

"What scarf? I don't know."

Mordred was so angry he laughed. He clearly saw what the Yellow Skins was hiding. He was right in front of him, and the weasel was still being stubborn.

"Should I give it to you or not?"

"No."

"You admit it?"

Seeing that he couldn't avoid it, the Emperor shamelessly threw a tantrum, acting like a little devil, which puzzled everyone.

"Second Brother, are you sure this is our father? Something doesn't feel right."

"Yes, although my father is inhuman and his private morality is questionable, he is at least a normal person. The way he's acting now is like a dog; when he can't win an argument, he starts throwing a tantrum."

As for Sisyphus, her opinion is unimportant; he just needs to stand by and not cause trouble.

"It's alright, this is a normal reaction. In order to extract the impurities from his body, it is necessary to use Fel Energy as a catalyst for mixing and burning. It's inevitable that some Fel Energy will be absorbed by him. He's really overdone it."

As the attending physician, Mordred was also a bit confused. Logically speaking, given Old Man Huang's size, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call him a god among men. This amount of Fel Energy was simply not enough to turn him into a silly goose.

Besides, it's not like the Yellow Skins hasn't tried Fel Energy before. Back then, that bastard ate a whole warehouse of crystals, and he wasn't this brain-dead then, unless he's been using Fel Energy all along.

"Etc."

Mordred suddenly thought of something, and without caring whether his size was suitable or whether it would cause a huge explosion, he directly grabbed the Golden Throne with one claw.

An unsettling metallic tearing sound rang out, accompanied by the Emperor and the countless tubes connected to him being pushed aside. A red smear appeared on the Golden Throne, lodged in his buttocks.

"We're doomed! We're doomed! We're doomed! He's found out our little secret."

Run! I need to go home. It's all up to you now, Emperor 12345. Good luck!

No, you traitors, he'll kill me! Don't go!

Men, women, the elderly, and children—all sorts of voices emanated from the speaker, like a chaotic dance of demons, but none of this could quell Mordred's rage.

"Neos, I need an explanation from you."

Unlike the other Primarchs, Mordred's relationship with the Emperor is quite unique. Their relationship is not as pure as that of the Senior Sister, nor as twisted as that of Horus, nor as normal as that of Guilliman who joined the group through connections.

Although they are father and son, they are more like two like-minded frenemy friends. If you bring me food, I'll call you Dad; if you sneak food behind my back, don't blame me for disowning you, you Rebellious son idiot.

These two can be paired together because Mordred is immoral and the Emperor is Morality, but they both have one thing in common: they are stubborn and will push forward even if they are about to be beheaded.

It was this commonality that brought these two unfortunate creatures together, leading to Great Crusade that lasted a full 200 years.

Don't be fooled by their constant bickering; behind the scenes, they're practically inseparable. They know each other's bottom lines and what the other wants to do.

Although it sounds strange, that's roughly the situation, and it's certainly better than Horus's twisted emotional relationship of "my father loves me, and I love my father."

Perhaps for this reason, the Emperor is very likely the one who understands Mordred the most, as he can clearly sense the extreme rage Mordred is suppressing.

Just like it's okay if your family beats or scolds you normally, but if they call you by your full name, then it's completely over. And this time, he really crossed the line.

"Neos, I need an explanation."

This was the second questioning, and the second chance. The atmosphere, which had been relatively normal, became incredibly oppressive. Sisyphus was the first to sense it and, without thinking, ran to the corner, covered his head, and crouched down in defense.

Zhuang Sen and Guilliman seemed to have guessed something, and after a brief hesitation, they stood opposite Mordred.

Perhaps sensing his good friend's thoughts, Mordred smiled helplessly, and his entire body rapidly transformed into a ten-meter-tall behemoth form, perfectly suited for combat.

"Your time is running out, Father! Give me an explanation."

"Second Son, this must be a misunderstanding. Calm down and let your father explain. If it's really what you think, then—"

"What? You have no right to speak here. If you know what's good for you, get out of my way. This is between him and me. I was being accommodating to you guys before. Don't let my current situation fool you; if I want to, nobody can stop me."

"Second Brother, put your claws down first. You need to think about the bigger picture!"

"The bigger picture? Guilliman, that's easy for you to say. It wasn't your offspring who died. I don't care about this bullshit empire. I clearly had the chance to embrace eternity, but because of that bullshit 'big picture,' I chose to commit suicide."

I slept for ten thousand years. I relinquished my divine status, I relinquished my power, I could no longer even maintain my physical body, all to return to this cesspool of an empire, to reunite with my legions, with my descendants."

Wings of light unfurled, spewing forth emerald-green, malevolent fire that corroded all things, merging with long, sharp claws that pointed at the Golden Throne: "It was you, it was you, Neos, who used legions, offspring, and the nation to bind me to this empire, and gave me a dream called the revival of humanity."

I worked tirelessly and willingly to contribute to your dreams. I even found you nine children, and I was the one who raised these problem children for you.

And now you're denying it? You bastard, you killed my child.

With each question, the Physical Laws of the entire Imperial Palace were gradually distorted. The Sea of Souls cast an approving glance, and emerald green flames ignited in the Far-Southern Abyss-Devouring Land. Indescribable, viscous mycelium tangled and roared at the Eternal Dragon that devoured all things, "Come back, child! That is the echo of hunger, the Roared of desire, the tremor of the microbiome decomposing all things, and you will surely be crowned king."

"Who gave you permission to speak? Get out of my way, you piece of trash! Your four men are all bastards, trash for a day, trash for a lifetime. And your men are all trash too. Get out of here!"

After being thoroughly scolded, the Warp's will was unusually angry for a moment, but then it grew to appreciate the child it favored even more.

What we can't have is always the best; those who are favored take it for granted. Perhaps the whole world is just a giant circle, and being a simp has become the underlying logic of this world.

Without the irritating Warp whispers, Mordred moved forward, her four claws flashing with a dangerous light, causing the Lion King to instinctively place his hand on the hilt of his sword, while Guilliman also gripped the flaming straight sword.

"Stop! You two, step back!"

"Father?"

"I'm telling you two to step back."

Just thinking about how these bastards always refuse to submit to each other, even though they're all Emperor, they insist on fighting to the death, each one of them so arrogant, saying, "I'm the real Emperor, you're all trash."

Now that trouble has struck, they're all running faster than anyone else. Emperor Number 12345 have never seen such scoundrels before, but then they remember that they were also split off from the original body, so it's not surprising at all.

With a burst of golden light, the red scarf that the Emperor had used as a cushion for 10,000 years floated off the throne and landed in Mordred's hands.

The fabric, once vibrant as blood, had faded and lost its luster, like the last fragile embers in a furnace. Only the Wolf Claw Mark offered Mordred a sliver of warmth.

"Let me state beforehand that I am merely a fragment of the Emperor's soul. As you can tell from my name, Emperor Number 12345, I only split off 300 years ago. That Khorne was actually released by me."

I'll tell you whatever you ask, but you can't hit me again.

"Shut up! Tell me everything you know now, immediately!"