We have a life-and-death friendship.

War is all about logistics, and logistics, in turn, requires the advance of war.

No soldier doesn't want ample ammunition, and no general doesn't want abundant supplies. When resources are scarce, tactical maneuvers are employed; when resources are plentiful, firepower is used for coverage.

In this dark galaxy, only strong ships and powerful cannons can protect the peace of this region.

With Guilliman regaining his human form, the Lion King was finally freed from those damned political affairs, and then he found himself doing more and more work.

"Shut up, Zhuang Sen. You're having a blast shooting down planes on the front lines, but tell me, where did the ammunition come from? Who's going to repair the damaged equipment? Who's going to govern the reclaimed world? Who's going to handle the subsequent development?"

"Then didn't you reclaim the Serenity 50 Worlds?"

"..."

Mordred didn't want to say anything anymore; she was too lazy to talk or listen. But then she remembered the two sentences Lady Yuton had said to her earlier, and finally explained:

"Brother, my dear brother! Reality isn't a game. Even if it were, you'd still need your farmers to mine and collect gas to build barracks before you can mass-produce troops!"

I reset my stats, leveled up, and changed my class to C'tan, but I'm not Doraemon. If I were Doraemon, I wouldn't be involved in anything other than Xenos Cultists.

If I pull out a galactic-destroying bomb, those Four Merchants will all kneel down, the Khorne will be my underling, the fat guy will be my cook, the birdman is stewing in the pot, and that little slut Slaanesh will get out and serve me in bed. Even the Yellow Skins will have to kneel down and call me daddy.

"You can have anything in your dreams. You'd be better off spending that time organizing this report. Just wait two and a half years. After that Atlas can begin full-scale supply transport."

"Sigh~ When will this awful period ever end? But then again, I remember you can also pull things out from behind your back, do you have some good stuff hidden away?"

Upon hearing this, Guilliman and Sisyphus, who were transforming into human supercomputers, stopped what they were doing, their eyes flashing with a strange light as they stared intently at Mordred's buttocks.

Because of Mordred, a large number of literary works from the 21st century have been reproduced, and the gaming and entertainment industries are quite developed, not as rigid as the Empire appears.

After all, people can't live without pursuits, and not everyone in the empire lives in misery. There are plenty of Garden of Nurgle worlds for retirement, and some decent worlds for living.

Take the Space Marine as an example. Don't be fooled by their tough, ruthless exteriors; they are human too. They shed tears when their comrades die and laugh heartily when they win.

Combat is not everything, just a process. For the long-lived Space Marine, they have plenty of time to pursue their passions, which has led to the formation of a kind of Chapter culture.

Atlas's games, movies, novels, figurines, and even the universally beloved "The Rome's She-Wolf" series are quite popular.

Classic books like Doraemon, which represent the pure and beautiful innocence of humanity, would certainly not be overlooked by Mordred, who possesses a planetary-level brain. Moreover, he's not just a plagiarist; he's practically a one-to-one mold-level replica.

He doesn't just recreate things; he also sells merchandise, such as anime figurines, Space Marine chess pieces, and even Primarch Hall of Fame items, as well as limited-edition collaboration game skins, all of which are more expensive than the last.

Perhaps these Doraemon -like literary works were so beautifully depicted that they were not banned even during the period when the Imperial Cult was prevalent, and were even vigorously promoted.

The Warp is not always a cesspool. Even the Four Merchants have their positive side. Indiscriminate slaughter may please the Khorne, but fearless courage can also attract Khorne attention. Malice breeds Chaos, but sparks of hope are also part of the change.

This is why Atlas is so favored by the Four Gods. After all, a silly person can overcome a bad one, and the emotional power emanating from Atlas is mostly positive. Daemon can get extremely high after taking a breath of it.

Beautiful things never go out of style, even after thousands of years. The Primarchs had certainly seen these things, and Horus was even the chief artist.

Nobody knows how many little secrets Mordred has, but he definitely has some. Everyone's been curious about why Mordred can pull things out from behind his butt. Doraemon pulls things out from his stomach, Mordred pulls them out from behind—it's like a four-dimensional anus and a four-dimensional pocket, so...

"Stop, don't tickle me, it's ticklish. Take your hand out of my pocket, don't mess up my collection."

Mordred has a little-known weakness: he is extremely ticklish and has obsessive-compulsive disorder, requiring him to straighten his underwear even if it's askew.

Normally it's fine; I don't think about this during a fight. But as soon as I relax, my body starts to go out of control.

Zhuang Sen grabbed Mordred's arm, Guilliman pressed down on his thigh, and Sisyphus scratched his belly while frantically digging, and they actually pulled out quite a lot of things.

"A fruit knife, motorcycle tires, lemons, half a bottle of wine we finished yesterday, a Cyclone Torpedo, and two cases of Lighter. Why are there so many Lighter? Wait, what's this?"

Sisyphus, who had already put half of his body inside, touched something hard. Although he couldn't see it, just by touching it, Sisyphus felt that it was very familiar, and he pulled it out with force.

Upon seeing the bright yellow, heavy armor, Sisyphus instantly remembered—wasn't this the Centurion Warsuit she always wore? She couldn't find it last time; it turned out you stole it.

"Mordred, you have to give me an explanation."

"What explanation? I took it because nobody wanted it. Whose fault is it if you can't watch your own things?"

Taking advantage of Sisyphus's momentary lapse in attention, Mordred shrunk his body and rolled off the ground with a vicious pounce, firmly protecting his dimensional pocket.

"Don't come any closer, or I'll lose it! You ignorant fools, this is called a dimensional pocket, not some four-dimensional chrysanthemum! And this isn't just any ordinary dimensional pocket; it's a special ability I gained when I ascended to godhood, connected to my former Divine Realm."

"You even have Divine Realm? Stop bragging. I remember you were a god for only five seconds back then. Show it to me."

Mordred, having his secret exposed, was speechless. He hadn't lied; he also possessed the Demon Realm that the Four Merchants owned, but it shattered along with the self-destruction and was now untouchable, serving only as a warehouse.

However, to avoid awkwardness, Mordred changed the subject and asked, "Zhuang Sen, didn't you say you had news of Dorn? What about Dorn?"

"Not found!"

The Lion King's reply was so frank that everyone thought they had misheard him, but to prove he wasn't lying, he simply pulled out a file and handed it over.

"537. M35? That's 5000 years old. It would be strange if you could find it. Besides, it says that giant traces were discovered in Inwit, but do you even know where Inwit is?"

Guilliman's question was the same one that Zhuang Sen was facing. He had found a valuable file, and after repeated comparisons, even the dates matched. The only problem was: where exactly Inwit?

Unlike all other Primarchs, Dorn was not found by the Emperor, but rather he found the Emperor. The Imperial Fists is also one of only two ship-based legions that do not recruit troops from their homeworld; the other is the World Eaters.

But unlike the World Eaters, Nuceria was destroyed by Angron himself, and later found himself a homeworld, which is now the Vigil Star where all sorts of monsters and demons gather.

This situation was unusual, but no one found it strange, since the Mountain Array was so large that it could easily be considered a small asteroid.

As the Governor of Terra, the Imperial Fists's main area of operation is in the Sol Sector, and it is the only legion that recruits soldiers from Holy Terra, consisting entirely of Terran-descended.

Adding to the later Great Heresy, the First Beast War, Second Beast War, during which the Imperial Fists was the main force, suffered heavy casualties and even underwent a rapid conscription, completely changing the bloodline.

This has led to the Imperial Fists being jokingly referred to as the Imperial Fists, due to the seed mutation causing a phenomenon of Sus—an Membrane degeneration, resulting in a consistently high mortality rate and an extremely rapid rate of generational updates.

Especially after the Third Beast War, when Dorn disappeared, the Imperial Fists was wiped out by the Orks, leaving only a very few survivors.

As the only "true" Imperial Fists, Koorland did not disappoint. He directly initiated the Last Wall Protocol to recruit personnel and founded the Black Templars. He became the Imperial Lord Commander, also known as the Warmaster, as Space Marine.

Logically, this is normal; if the main team is destroyed, people should be called in to rebuild. But it's unheard of for the main team to be reduced to just one person.

As for why it's said that only one person remained, it's because apart from Koorland who survived, there were no Imperial Fists among the survivors; they were all Atlas.

Perhaps sensing something, Delanku incorporated this group of Atlas, who had also suffered heavy casualties, into the Black Templars and tasked them with protecting the last remaining Gene-Seed.

This leads to a rather abstract phenomenon: the current Imperial Fists is not the true Imperial Fists, but rather the legitimate one is on the Black Orks side.

Neither the Black Templars nor the Imperial Fists knew where their Primarch homeworld was, and not only did they not know, but the other Primarchs did not know either.

"So, Dorn has completely hidden his homeworld? He doesn't want the Empire to know the location of his home planet."

"Yes!" Guilliman replied.

"Then why would he do that? It can't be because he's afraid someone will blow up his home planet, right? By the way, why are you guys looking at me like that?"

Zhuang Sen was quite annoyed by the stares of Guilliman and Mordred, but more importantly, he couldn't refute them. Since the Great Heresy, he had carried out Orbital Bombardment on every Primarch homeworld that had rebelled or been forced to rebel.

But Zhuang Sen had no choice. At that time, the empire was full of rebels. The empire was in crisis and fighting amongst itself. This was no ordinary rebellion. He had to Strike Hard.

"So it's not that I don't want to look, the key is that I can't find it. If I had the exact coordinates, I could definitely Dorn over and let him eat shit with us."

"I know!"

"You know what? When did you get so close to Dorn? No, you actually get along with Dorn?"

Mordred remained silent, only recalling the image of him watching Dorn frantically eat excrement in Magnus's Wonderland:

"There's no why, it's because we've been through thick and thin together!"