Has the Imperium's Dark Sword truly fallen this far?

"Father, how did you end up like this!"

After eating and drinking his fill, Russ finally remembered his business. When he looked up, he saw his Old Man transform from a majestic Golden Giant into an extremely muscular, dark-skinned hottie.

Having children is terrible enough, but the Emperor's current appearance brought tears to Russ's eyes. This emotion was a mix of sadness, sorrow, and a strange excitement, which eventually turned into the question: Why have we fallen to this state?

"Should I exchange it back?"

As soon as Yellow Skins 12345 finished speaking, the image of the dark-skinned hot girl that everyone praised instantly changed, turning her into a rather horrifying skeleton with bits of flesh hanging on it, making Russ feel nauseous.

"Forget it! You should change back to your original form. I can't bear to see you suffer, Father."

After this comparison, the Emperor, now wearing the suit again, looked much better. Taking this opportunity, the four brothers also explained the current state of the empire to Russ.

When Ruth heard that the Legion had been split into Chapter, that the Empire's sustainability had declined for a full 10,000 years, and that the Space Wolves had grown wildly after his disappearance, becoming something even he himself felt was a bit too extreme, Russ smiled with relief.

"No, Second Brother, that's not what you told me before!"

You said the Empire had some minor problems, and you're telling me these are minor problems? And Angron, you dead cat, you say there's still hope, but why can't I see even a sliver of hope?"

Mordred chuckled mischievously, implying, "If I didn't say that, would you have come back? We'll share the good times and the bad. We'll all share this mess to make it more enjoyable."

Whether he enjoyed it or not is unknown, but as soon as Russ returned, he ate a huge meal and immediately spotted Isha massaging and feeding the Emperor's leather suit next to the throne.

Russ couldn't understand why her father would allow a vile Xenos to violate his sacred body, while the Adeptus Custodes acted as if it were perfectly normal.

"And that Xenos cub, I've been wanting to ask about that for a while, why does she look so much like Guilliman?"

"Hahaha, as expected of Russ, you saw the problem at a glance. That's right, this is Guilliman and Ephraime's illegitimate daughter, named Tarasha."

Come here, little Tarasha, come quickly to your Second Uncle's place, and while you're at it, see your sixth uncle."

Upon hearing the summons, Tarasha took a few quick steps and nestled headfirst into Mordred's arms. Compared to her biological parents, Tarasha preferred this goofy Second Uncle.

After all, cubs of any race love to play, and Mordred's mind isn't much more developed, so it's perfect for her to sit at the same table as the children.

The two, one big and one small, locked eyes, and Russ seemed to have figured something out.

"Hello, Sixth Uncle!"

"Good, this child is really smart. He looks just like his father. This is a great family, the third generation of Saint Sun Guilliman, don't you think?"

Guilliman remained silent, engrossed in his meal. He still couldn't quite grasp his relationship with Tarasha; as a Primarch, he naturally felt aversion towards Xenos.

But because he was a Primarch, he knew how important Tarasha was. She was not just a small Xenos created from his genes, but the first step in the Empire's annexation of the Aeldari.

Before the birth of the Slaanesh, the Aeldari lived a very comfortable life. Their technology was largely inherited from the Old Ones, their lifespans were extremely long, and with just a little training, they could rival the Astartes. They were the true rulers of the galaxy.

Within the Warp, the Pantheon provides protection, and the only means of transportation is the Webway. Even though it is old, dilapidated, and in disrepair, it is still the Webway that humanity has always dreamed of.

The Primarchs had previously discussed how to revive the Empire, and the final result was summed up in one word—copying!

Copying is an art; it's not about blindly copying, but about combining existing problems within the empire with iterative new strategies, and systematically and innovatively drawing upon existing knowledge.

Why are the Necron able to inherit the legacy of the C'tan and amass a fortune in gold? Why are the Aeldari able to inherit the legacy of the Old Ones and live a carefree life for 60 million years?

We all look so alike, with two arms supporting one head. If you claim to be the eldest son of Old Ones sage, who can testify? We humans are the chosen successors of the Old Ones sage, and this Webway should be used by us humans.

You say the Eldar Gods can bear witness? What a load of rubbish! Your Goddess of Life is still serving as a handmaiden to our Emperor in Holy Terra.

If you're so capable, come to Terra and take your goddess away. Even if the Imperial Palace security is a mess, and Adeptus Custodes Royal Guard is practically blind, anyone can sneak in. But if the Aeldari dare to come, Isha won't dare to leave.

What is legitimacy? This is legitimacy!

The ships of the new era cannot contain the overlords of the old era. Even their own gods are utterly disappointed in them. The Aeldari have no future. The only gods they can summon, besides the Cegorach, are Slaanesh.

After all, Slaanesh was playing both sides. He appeared to be a god of rules but was actually a god of races. In essence, he was an elemental god. It was the soul tide generated by the extreme depravity of Aeldari Eldar that attracted the god of Ecstatic Perception and created this Youngest Lady.

Needless to say, the Necron are a bunch of physical skeletons. Marga Ross, one of the three giants of the C'tan, didn't go anywhere else, but instead ended up on Terra.

It's important to know that the title "Dragon Emperor's Conquest" wasn't given lightly.

In ancient times there was Jehovah, the Son of God, and later there was Hong Xiuquan, the Heavenly Brother. That Emperor was one of the incarnations of Omnissiah, and together with the Void Dragon, they were called Heavenly Father and Heavenly Brother.

The Empire now faces two paths: one is to learn from the Aeldari, and the other is to learn from the Necron. But children make choices; the Primarchs chose to have it all.

If this world had no Warp and no concept of the soul, then without a doubt, becoming the next physicist would be the ultimate goal.

But this world is not materialistic; all living beings have souls, and even a gun, a tank, or a ship Machine Spirit.

The Emperor wanted to use the theory of Imperial Truth to isolate humanity and make the people of the Empire believe that there were no Daemon or Chaos God in the world, but the facts are clear: Imperial Truth is destined to be a lie.

As the Great Rift unfolds, humanity is inevitably making rapid progress toward becoming a Psychic Power race. At this point, denying the existence of the Warp would be blatant lying.

Therefore, we must grasp both aspects firmly. It seems that the empire is on the verge of collapse, but this saying has been around for ten thousand years and the empire has not completely collapsed. On the contrary, quite the opposite.

Previously, the Yellow Skins was ignorant and thought that if the Webway Project succeeded, it would lead the empire to take off. However, without absolute strength to back it up, any plan is just empty talk. But now it's different. With the "God-Emperor" as the Ultimate Emperor Weapon, the Four Merchants would absolutely not dare to let humanity perish.

"So, Second Brother, you mean we have a guaranteed minimum return?"

"That's right, time is on our side. No matter what the future holds for the empire, as long as the Yellow Skins's ass is still stuck in that toilet, our empire will never perish. It's just a matter of whether we devour the cesspool or savor it slowly."

At this point, Mordred added, rather mystically, "It's all part of the plan!"

"Is there anything I need to do?"

After saying that, Russ noticed that Guilliman was looking at him with a "you'd better watch out" look, while Mortarion and Angron beside him were baring their teeth and looking less than human.

Grabbing his good friend's arm, Mordred used the Walking Arm-in-Arm and said with satisfaction, "I've been waiting for you to say that."

Look, all of us brothers are busy. Zhuang Sen is leading the team to kill people, Sisyphus is holding the line in Armageddon, and as for me, Atlas, you know, the moment he opens his eyes, everyone up and down is counting on me to feed them.

So the other hand, which we need to grasp in both areas, is yours. And the job is very simple, a cushy one at that: digging up graves!

"Digging up a grave? Whose grave are you digging up?"

"Whoever has a grave, we'll dig it up!"

Russ understood, but it was somewhat impossible for him to truly understand. Although digging up graves was a dishonorable job, it was indeed a lucrative one.

The idea that science relies on archaeology is no joke. The races with names and identities within the galaxy today are far less powerful than before, truly embodying the principle that the older they are, the stronger they become. Anyone who digs up something can become rich overnight.

Take the Leman Russ Battle Tank, a good friend of the Astra Militarum, for example. This thing is sturdy, durable, and easy to produce. It is not only used by the Astra Militarum, but basically everyone in the Empire uses it.

Similar to the legendary Type 59 tank, numerous variants based on the Roboute Guilliman have emerged over the past ten thousand years, and they have proven remarkably effective. If they were truly ineffective, they wouldn't have lasted for a full ten thousand years.

The original Leman Russ Battle Tank was an STC discovered by Russ himself, and it is also one of the most successful cases of being replicated by the Empire.

It was clear as it was, but Russ didn't want to dig up the grave. He wanted to conquer the galaxy like Great Crusade, and these logistical matters should logically be handled by Atlas.

Why not send Guilliman?

"Oh, if that's how you want to think, fine. But let me remind you first, all the political affairs of the Empire are currently being handled by the Ultramarines. If you can take over Guilliman's job, then you want to be the Master of Mankind. I, your Second Brother, would also recommend you to sit on this Golden Toilet."

Perhaps he was too immersed in the role, for upon hearing this, the Yellow Skins waved its arm and beckoned to Russ. Coupled with its voice and smile, Russ blushed shamefully.

"No, no, Second Brother, you know me. There is only one sun in my heart, and that is our father."

"Good! You're truly my brother. If I had known it would work this well, I should have advised the Yellow Skins to get plastic surgery back then."

However, on the other hand, asking you to dig graves doesn't mean you have to dig graves forever. The Space Wolves's job hasn't changed; the main focus is still on reclaiming territory. Let's quickly increase the population and manpower first."

With the Serenity 50 Worlds operating at full capacity, the resources consumed by the fleets led by the Lion King and Sisyphus could not keep up with the production. Even the Blood Angels in the shadows were armed to the teeth.

This resulted in a situation where equipment was needed but people were waiting, completely disrupting Mordred's plans to revitalize the Empire's wartime economic system.

The Empire's productivity is by no means weak; in fact, it can be said to be extremely powerful. It only appears abstract due to limitations in transportation. Now that Atlas has returned, the Webway from the Maelstrom to Macragge has been cleared.

With this lifeline in place, most worlds in the surrounding star sectors can be revitalized. These revitalized worlds, under the command of Ultramarines, then supply the Empire with resources, achieving the goal of sustaining the war through war.

Once they've accumulated enough strength, Mordred won't even need to intervene; his brothers would win battle after battle flawlessly, and all he had to do was continue to expand their advantage.

As for how to expand the advantage, the best way is to bring back the Primarchs one by one and let them return to the Empire to reproduce.

Ultramarines proved to everyone the importance of scientific recruitment; those absurd legion selection methods are meaningless except for being abstract.

If Atlas had compatibility with other Legion Gene-Seed, Mordred would be bored out of her mind to nag like a mother hen and vigorously promote the Astartes' eugenics policy.

However, with Russ's return, the Space Wolves finally had a leader, and Mordred could finally focus her energy on her hometown.

He came to deal with the Orctavius and established beneath his homeland, an Ork Empire no less powerful than the Ultramar 500 Worlds.

But just as Mordred was reviewing the expansion of the various legions during the two years he had been away, someone happened to come along and try to sabotage him.

Mordred slammed his rice bowl down on the table as he looked at Tu'Shan, the Chapter Master of the Salamanders Chapter, who was reporting to Holy Terra. This startled the Imperial Fists standing next to him.

"Tell me, why is the Salamanders population growth negative? Didn't I approve a permit for you to receive 3,000 sets of equipment?"

I noticed the harsh environment on your Nightfall Star, and I even provided you with three units of basic supplies. So why is your population experiencing negative growth?

Moreover, I clearly told you to stay put and continue developing, and wait for me to come back so we could gang up on the Orks and insects from both sides. But so many Salamanders have died in just two years since I left.

I already told you not to make any moves. Your most important task right now is to manage the legion well, so that things won't get complicated when my brother comes back. But is this how you manage the legion?

"Reporting to the Great Commander, the Lord of Fire once taught us that we must not be greedy. If we were to break the Legion's traditions for the sake of some material possessions, then—"

"What?"

"Untested recruits will corrupt purity, and the legion will exist in name only! The Codex Astartes clearly state that the First Founding should not exceed the permitted size; your name is on it, and it is your approval."

"So you have 20,000 people?"

"No, only 1,347 people, but our casualties were meaningful. We supported Orctavius and minimized Civilians casualties as much as possible before Atlas arrived, holding out to the very last moment."

"Shut up! If that's what you're saying, does that mean the legion will perish if you listen to me?"

Seeing the enraged Great Commander, Tu'Shan knelt on one knee, first earnestly admitting his mistake, then stating that ancestral laws cannot be changed. He explained that while he was nominally equal to the Grand Commander and possessed equal wartime command authority, the Great Commander was the Primarch, and therefore always right. As for whether the Legion would decline as a result, he replied, "It's hard to say!"

"Hard to say? Say one more word and I'll beat you to death!" Desian, the leader of the Imperial Fists Chapter Master who came to take over the shift, saw that things were not going well and quickly grabbed Mordred's leg.

Mordred was furious. The other smaller Chapter were doing alright, since they weren't doing very well, so they flocked to Atlas with his lavish spending, treating the Codex Astartes like toilet paper.

But those First Founding that lost their Primarchs were all different. The Space Wolves pretended to be stupid, the Raven Guard obeyed orders but not proclamations, the White Scars listened to no one, the Son of the Emperor moved away with their entire family, and Hydra couldn't even find anyone. Only the Imperial Fists and the Iron Hands were honest.

But that's because Atlas's big head was already lurking inside the Earth Fist and Steel Hand, and had long been assimilated.

That damn boomerang finally hit him on the head. Everyone else is shrewd, but you, you bastard, are so honest, treating that toilet paper like a treasure.

Huron, who guarded the Maelstrom, told him that he had sent troops to contain the expansion of the Orks and the Zerg, turning the Octarius Empire into a meat grinder.

It was the Salamanders who disobeyed orders and insisted on holding their ground, which caused such a huge loss.

Mordred grew angrier the more he thought about the red eyes on the Tu'Shan, but he couldn't just slap the guy to death. Furious, he slammed the door and stormed out, heading towards the Department of Administration where Guilliman was.

He had to vent this anger, and it was all Guilliman's fault.

Looking at Tu'Shan, who was still kneeling and unable to get up, Gregor Desian, the current Chapter Master of the Imperial Fists who had no presence at all, felt a pang of sadness.

It was clearly our Imperial Fists that first dismantled the Solar System's defenses, and even the Primarch's purge of the court was initiated by us. We were clearly the ones who arrived first.

Look at the present, one Primarch after another is returning to the Empire, and even the Salamanders without Primarchs are being raised by the Great Commander like his own children.

Why not use this energy to train us? We, the Imperial Fists, are the most honest. Does that mean the Black Templars are truly the legitimate legions of the Legion? We're actually the stepchildren.

"Father, where are you?"

No one knows Gregor's inner thoughts, but Mordred, who had just beaten Guilliman, returned with four relics and immediately kicked Tu'Shan, a softie, to the ground.

"Are you dead? If you're not, get over here."

"Great Commander, I—"

"What do you mean, 'you'? Aren't you disobedient? Fine, let your father judge right and wrong."

Tu'Shan was a bit stunned. The Salamanders' reaction speed, which was far slower than that of the other Space Marines, brought him to a standstill. On the other hand, Gregor, standing to the side, played the role of the sarcastic one, saying, "According to rumors, after the Lord of Fire went missing, he sent back a message that if you could gather all nine artifacts he had forged, he could be Rebirth from Fire."

"That's right, I know that over the past few thousand years you have collected the Spear of Vulkan, the Kesare's Mantle, the Gauntlet of the Forge, the Chalice of Fire, the Eye of Vulkan, and the Obsidian Engine."

Adding these four to my collection, we now have a total of nine divine artifacts.

"Then the question is, how did these divine artifacts left by my father end up in your hands Great Commander?"

Upon hearing this, Mordred's face instantly darkened. Unable to bear it any longer, he slapped Tu'Shan across the head, nearly knocking his head off.

"Shut up. Don't ask questions you shouldn't ask. These were found by my offspring outside. Because these artifacts are too powerful, they were kept under strict guard to prevent Ambition from harming Vulkan."

"I see! Great Commander, I misunderstood you. I apologize for my inappropriate remarks."

"Don't say anything more, just be more careful next time. What can I do? I'm your Second Uncle. I'm doing this for your own good!"

It's just bullying honest people. Gregor knows where these artifacts came from; they must have been stolen by the Blood Ravens. However, with the Blood Ravens being reorganized into Atlas, this old grudge was buried.

"But Great Commander, why did you bring four sacred objects? That's not the right number!"

Mordred waved his hand, indicating that they were unaware that the Obsidian Chariot in their hands was actually a fake; he had inserted it himself. The ninth relic was not the Obsidian Chariot, but this Vitality Headscarf in his hand.

These artifacts weren't really divine artifacts; they were just some of the least destructive pieces among Vulkan's creations. Unlike Ferrus, who was a haphazard burying of things everywhere, Vulkan destroyed all the incredibly destructive items.

After saying that, Mordred even pulled out a precious photograph to prove that he wasn't lying.

"Ah, that's certainly reasonable and well-founded."

As everyone knows, photographs cannot be faked. Tu'Shan immediately sent someone to bring the Chalice of Fire and the Eye of Vulkan, which were placed on the ship, to match the three relics on his person, and handed them to Mordred.

As the nine sacred artifacts gathered, a flame instantly rose up, shifting and changing like a living thing, summoning a certain being.

Before the flames could even ignite, the light instantly changed from red to green, leaving the three people present completely bewildered. It wasn't until Mordred impulsively pressed his paw into the fire that they realized what was happening.

The flames that had been concentrated into a single mass rapidly shifted, and through the firelight, the three could see a gigantic arena covered in yellow sand, with countless Orks cheering them on.

In the center of the arena, a dark-skinned, naked man was being brutally beaten by a group of Orks. In fact, the Orks had even formed a long queue to fight this burly man, like horny old men with insatiable thirst.

Such a wondrous sight made Mordred's heart itch unbearably, as if triggering some abstract quality within him. Finally, unable to control his desire any longer, he cried out:

"Waaaagh!!!"

"Waaaagh!!"