No Matter How You Slice It... The Advantage Is Mine!

No one survived the cesspool.

To illustrate this with the bizarre actions of a certain Tau Water Caste official, this God-Human, after learning of the empire's vastness, actually attempted to single-handedly dismantle the administrative logic of this massive regime.

According to this God-Human being, he wanted to use this opportunity to study why humans are so barbaric and warlike, and why they can't all live happily together and emulate the Supreme Good Path.

Putting aside the fact that this "Supreme Good Path" is not as truthful as the Imperial Truth, and both are just slogans for consolidating power, at least the Empire truly fought for the Imperial Truth once, and in one fell swoop reached the edge of the Milky Way.

If it weren't for the Four Gods' ingenious scheme, causing the Empire to lose the Webway Highway, the Imperium of Man might have actually succeeded.

For a Tau to try and figure out the political system of the Imperium of Man is simply impossible. It's a mountain of code that even Guilliman wouldn't dare to mess with lightly.

If the Tau truly possessed this ability, not only Guilliman, but even the Emperor would have to stand up and toast these blue-skinned Abhumans, and sit at the back during meals, pointing the fish head towards this blue-skinned Venerable.

It's not that humans are barbaric, but that the entire galactic race is stuck in a cesspool, everyone is crazy, and they have to eat imported farmyard manure sent from the Warp every now and then.

In this dark galaxy, the Tau are completely anomalies, and even after being caught up in the Plague War and seeing a corner of this dark world, they still seem so naive.

Once this nascent race fully understands this dark galaxy, and even the truth hidden beneath the Veil, it will pay the price for all the reckless actions it has taken.

Honestly, in terms of living comfortably, if someone is lured into the Warhammer World by the Lobster Recruitment and doesn't have any cheat codes, then falling into the Tau territory isn't a bad choice.

At least there won't be any survival scenarios like Underhive survival, jungle survival, wilderness survival, wasteland survival, polar survival, grassland domination, gang warfare, human flesh shops, gladiatorial arena battles, or even the worst scenario of fighting trees for air.

To live for decades and die peacefully of old age, experiencing the customs and culture of another world, is not a bad ending. Perhaps one will never even know that they have come to a cesspool before they die.

If you're bold enough, you can even challenge your own weaknesses and emulate the Old Ancestor of Sorrowful Wind to showcase the diversity of human desires.

However, besides the naive and innocent Tau, there is another race in this Dark Galaxy that is quite amusing, but to join this faction, being born into the right family is a skill in itself.

This race is none other than the happiest race in the galaxy— the Ork!

While all other races were frantically eating excrement and going mad, the Orks never thought about that; they only had one thought in their minds: to fight.

Fighting brings Orks joy; fighting is Orks life, their Orks creed. They have no worries whatsoever; fighting is exhilarating. If they can knock out their opponent's teeth, it's even more exhilarating.

The Orks' fighting style is different from that of the Khorne's army. The Orks have no reason or purpose; it's a fundamental logic ingrained in their genes, just like how men get excited when they see beautiful women, and beautiful women get excited when they see muscular men.

As long as they can fight, the Orks will be happy. The happier they are, the stronger they become, and the stronger they become, the more they will fight. In Orks terms, they will fight even bigger fights.

Orks are just too awesome! Every time the night is quiet, Mordred can't help but fantasize about what it would be like to be an Orks instead of a human—wouldn't that be incredibly awesome?

Unfortunately Horus the Second Brother Mordred, so he can't become an Orks, especially not a hybrid mutant like him. The Orks don't welcome such a poor relative who comes begging for food; they even call him a traitor and despise him.

Mordred could never understand how he could be looked down upon by the Orks, how they could despise him, and how he could be outmaneuvered and shot in the head.

With Mordred's current stats, he can bully the Primarch at his current level, and he can also bully the Greater Daemon. At most, he can bully Mortarion when he transforms into the Lord of Gloom, and he can fight a Lesser God without being at a disadvantage.

However, if we're talking about the level of the Horus the Second Brother), his stats are a bit lacking, so he can only rely on the already moldy and hairy Super Intelligence to play the mechanics.

If you can't beat the big ones, then beat the small ones. Once the five-year period is up, Zhuang Sen Luojia Jia will have some free time to launch Great Counteroffensive and defuse this bomb that could explode at any time.

As for why they don't fight one-on-one? That's laughable! Why fight alone when you can gang up on someone?

The Dark Angels, Atlas, White Scars, Salamanders, Imperial Fists, Ultramarines, Death Guard, and Word Bearers —a total of eight legions—besieged Orctavius, with nearly 600,000 Space Marine advancing in eight columns, and countless Auxilia.

Even Guilliman was mobilized, and the price was that some of the Ultramarines became government Servitor. However, Mordred had improved their food and drink, providing them with unlimited Rick Cigarettes and orange juice, and each of them was given an Elemental Flask, so they wouldn't die from sudden death.

That is to say, the Space Wolves and Soul Drinkers are currently sweeping through the Armageddon Ork Empire in the northern border of the Sol Sector; otherwise, Mordred could have called for even more people, even the Adeptus Custodes.

"Great Commander, isn't it inappropriate for our Adeptus Custodes Guards to abandon their posts and go on a distant expedition? Although I'd love to go, what if His Majesty is assassinated?"

Inside the bridge of the Abomination, Goff, the usually amiable logistics chief of Atlas, used underhanded tactics such as sneak attacks, stunts, and backstabs to successfully crack Roland's skull open, granting him the right to board outside the ship and making Roland the new generation of sudden-death kid.

The veterans of the legion did the same, giving the new generation of Atlas a harsh lesson. Amidst the curses of the new recruits, "Old Ones, you tricked me," they successfully gained the right to go out.

With such capable sons who can govern the country with their literary skills and command warships with their military prowess, Mordred and the rest of the Atlas lunatics don't need to use their brains at all; they can just act as crude warriors.

Now, Mordred has smoothly taken over Rambo's den and is playing Gwent with the Khan, Gawain, Livyere, Rexa, and the Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes Little Cat in pairs.

"Don't worry! Trajan is the Marshal of the Adeptus Custodes, so it's perfect for him to guard the house. Isn't Angron keeping him company? It's good for him to walk the cat."

Besides, that's a rather rude question. Do you think those Yellow Skins need your protection? Mind your own business. You're not my long-lost Valdor brother, capable of fighting the Primarch."

"Exactly, exactly, you Adeptus Custodes are just bored." The Khan, the chatterbox, said, "We've brought so many people this time. We started preparing for this battle ten years ago. The war supplies alone have filled 13 warehouse worlds."

Fully armed, fully manned, and fully equipped—this level of firepower would be considered high-end even during the Great Crusade. We could unleash a barrage of firepower right from the start; those Orks and Tyran simply couldn't withstand our onslaught.

"Who can argue with that! No matter what, our forces number 600,000 elite troops, Astra Militarum is even more massive, all armed to the teeth. The advantage is on our side."

"Haha, you're right." The usually taciturn Livyere also laughed out loud. He was finally free from the hardships of being an instructor in Catachan, and immediately pulled out a bottle of Catachan beer.

"In my estimation, with our firepower advantage and the assistance of five Primarchs, we might be able to reclaim our lost territory before the next Ascension Day of Sanguinius."

"It won't be that slow! We can win at the Ascension Day of the Emperor."

Looking at his protégés popping champagne at halftime, Mordred wanted to say they were setting a flag, but then he thought, "We do have 600,000 elite troops, so the advantage is definitely on our side!"

Perhaps due to the different ingredients used in its production, this Catachan craft beer was extremely potent. After downing a large glass, even Mordred was a bit tipsy, his face flushed, and he immediately raised his glass.

"Good luck! Wishing you all a triumphant return and great achievements!"

"Good luck, and I wish my father (the Great Commander) good health and a long life."

"Haha, notify the mess hall to give everyone a special meal before the battle! This is the time to make our mark!"

Mordred was quite excited, thinking, "It's back, everything is back! What tactical infiltration, what boarding maneuvering? Only an idiot would board a ship like that."

Times have changed. I will unleash overwhelming firepower and advance with massive armies. I must show these Xenos what the might of the Imperial Army during the Great Crusade is all about. This is what war is all about!

This war mode is fundamentally flawed. What good person would jump ship right away? This tactic is only used when choosing to destroy the Void Shield during land-based warfare. Only an idiot would blindly jump ship.

My Imperial Navy Invincible Under Heaven. As long as we don't do anything reckless and instead take cover from a distance, we can wear down the enemy's Void Shield until it's destroyed.

Before Mordred could even have dinner, an urgent communication from Ultramarines arrived in front of him.

As the holographic projection unfolded, Caldor's large face appeared before everyone, looking as if he were running in the wild, with the honor guards behind him carrying something on their shields.

"Great Commander, this is bad! The intelligence is wrong. The Orks here are all 4 meters tall, and there are a lot of warbosses and warlords. The Hive Tyrant are appearing one after another, and there are also Insect Saint. Both types of Xenos have begun to merge and mutate. The Orks have grown Tyran chitinous armor, and the Tyranid have also turned green."

"My father saw that Orks called the Bonebreaker and impulsively charged at him, and now he's been severely injured."

"What? How can Guilliman be so useless? Didn't I tell Rambo to protect him closely? Where is Rambo?"

"Rambo, he's here."

Having said that, Caldor pulled a black dog's head, which had been stuffed into Canned One jar, from the sack. Looking at its distinctive ear, which was missing a corner, he thought, "What other dog could this be but Rambo, Mordred's top disciple?"

"Damn it! Stop eating, all of you! Wenbai is incompetent and has brought shame to the country. It seems I have to come out of retirement. Order the heavy artillery to move forward 5 kilometers. I'm going to board them."

I'm going to board!