Harkon, you scoundrel!

"I'm sorry, I surrender. I just made a mistake that everyone makes. As Emperor, my right to slack off is unlimited."

"You can't treat me like this! I'm your father!"

Looking at the lowly Yellow Skins in front of them, no one felt any pity for him; they all stared at this non-flammable thing with eyes that looked at it like it was garbage.

"Father, you've gone too far this time," the Lion King said. "You're clearly awake, so why are you pretending to be stupid? Don't you know how exhausted we've been all these years?"

"I know, I didn't deny your contributions, I've been watching."

"What?" Zhuang Sen was still a little incredulous, thinking he had misheard, to the point that he was somewhat stunned, but the reactions of his brothers around him confirmed that he had not misheard.

"And what about me?" asked Luojia, who had suffered the most.

"I've been tormented by the power of that Dark King for thousands of years, and in the end you haven't even said a kind word. You're just pretending to be sick here. Aren't I your daughter?"

"Yes, I acknowledge that you are my daughter, but I've already said to abolish religious beliefs. The destruction of Perfect City hasn't taught you a lesson yet. Whose fault is that?"

And thanks to you sharing the burden, I was able to recover so quickly. I owe you the most credit, Luojia."

Luojia remained silent. Although what the Emperor said was indeed true, she was still furious. She wondered which bastard was behind all this, saying I Am Not a God but secretly conjuring up all sorts of Psychic Power flashes and miracles.

"No, what do you mean by 'thanks to me sharing the burden'? So, all this misery I've endured is because of you?"

"And what about me?" Guilliman retorted, his hand gripping the Emperor's neck. "I can let the others go, but I've been in Holy Terra. Now that you've regained your senses, you should have told me. Haven't you seen me working myself to the bone every day, just to clean up this mess that is the Empire?"

"So what? Isn't this just your job?"

These words enraged even the most mild-mannered Guilliman. When he Opened Eyes and saw the state of the Empire, Guilliman was devastated.

There was no other way; he was the tallest man, and he had to carry it. He was willing to be a beast of burden for it. Even after arriving in Holy Terra, the Emperor still looked like he had dementia.

Only as one brother after another returned to the empire was he able to slack off a little, but that only earned him the Emperor's question, "So?"

"So what? So, Father, you think we should do this?"

This is not our empire alone, but our empire together. It was a dream you promised us that should never have existed. Everything we've done is because of you.

Looking at the agitated Guilliman, the Emperor not only didn't admit his mistake, but also felt bewildered. He had created the Primarch to help him with the Great Crusade; that was their job. Why were they so agitated now?

"Smack~"

A sharp crack rang out as Mordred's hand slapped the Emperor hard across the face, leaving the Yellow Skins stunned and staring incredulously at the Second Son before him. "You hit me? You dare hit a woman? I'm your father! I'm so beautiful, how could you bear to hit me?"

"Pah! I'm not just going to hit you, I'm going to beat you up too, you bastard, you've even abandoned all shame just to avoid getting beaten up, you're even willing to cross-dress."

You bastard, do you have any shame? I always thought Yellow Skins 12345 was a separate entity, but I never expected it was you pretending.

Brothers, stop wasting your breath on this idiot and beat him up! The Dark King must be possessing Old Man Huang; he's not our father.

Normally, the Primarch would still have a bit of a soft spot for the Emperor, even Mordred, after all, the Emperor did endure a full 10,000 years on the Golden Throne, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to call him a saint.

But even saints are not perfect; the greater Emperor may be, the more despicable he may be.

How can someone like this be changed? How can they be changed?

The five Primarchs present all knew that the person who had just spoken was definitely not the Dark King, but the Emperor, but no one cared about this trivial matter. Even if you were the Omnissiah, I would still beat you up.

Without any hesitation or pity, the Emperor, firmly bound to the Golden Throne by five arms, was powerless to resist and enjoyed a wonderful time with his family.

"Ah, let me go! I am the Emperor! I am the Emperor!"

"Bang, bang, bang."

The left fist deals high damage, the right fist has strong stats, and the extremely hateful Yellow Skins let out a mournful howl, but no one cares about his feelings now. For the sake of loyalty and righteousness, the Primarchs must beat this Dark King back.

"Bastard, you'd actually possess our father's body just to destroy the world! You son of a bitch, I'll beat you back!"

"I am the Emperor."

"You're talking nonsense! As my father's most beloved son, how could I not recognize My Father?"

Thanks to Mordred's superb skills, the lifelike depiction of living flesh used to decorate the Emperor was so realistic that it had become one with the Yellow Skins, so there was no need to worry about the suit being smashed to pieces.

Since we can't kill it, we should beat it to death. Verbal education is meaningless now. This Yellow Skins is extremely wicked and must be severely punished with physical training.

"Ouch! My toe! My toe is broken! Someone, please help me!"

"Oh ho, you dare to call for help? You bastard, don't you know that more than half of the Adeptus Custodes are my Space Super Dogs? Go ahead and yell, no one will save you even if you yell until your throat is hoarse."

Bane! Guard the gate for me.

Hearing the mournful cries coming from the depths of the underground palace, Trajan, the Great Commander of the Adeptus Custodes who was acting as the historian, kept his eyes closed and was leisurely slacking off by the gate.

Logically speaking, as members of the Adeptus Custodes, they should absolutely not allow the Emperor to suffer even the slightest harm, but the Emperor was indeed somewhat inhumane in this regard.

My Morality and my duty are locked in a fierce battle, with neither side gaining the upper hand. On one side is the Primarch, who has worked tirelessly for the Empire, and on the other is the Master of Mankind lies on his Golden Throne feigning illness and madness.

Unlike the thousand-man Adeptus Custodes Guard that survived the Webway War, Trajan is not yet 1,000 years old. Unlike the Little Cat, he is a new generation of Adeptus Custodes.

He grew up listening to stories of Great Crusade, and in his mind, the Emperor was an image that combined power and all good virtues.

Tall and imposing, benevolent, incredibly brave, kind and generous, and possessing unparalleled strength, he was an exceptionally handsome and majestic man.

This is how Trajan saw the Emperor.

But as the saying goes, aspirations are the furthest distance from understanding; the thicker the filters in our hearts, the more shattered they become now.

If Valdor were here, he'd be like a sworn brother to the Primarch, perfectly suited to resolve this kind of family dispute. But I Trajan, am just an ordinary member of the Custodian Adeptus Custodes, without the power of Grand Marshal, earning only 800 rubles a month. What's the point of risking my life?

Furthermore, looking at the giant Dog-men who had already surrounded them, especially those who lingered for a moment on the Atreus Armour, which was the same style as the Adeptus Custodes Guard's, Trajan knew that even if he wanted to save the king, he wouldn't have the ability.

Trajan was already starting to regret it. Back then, it was he who went against everyone's advice and listened to the nonsense of that self-proclaimed guardian spirit, who was actually that bastard Rambo, that allowed the Adeptus Custodes to recruit Dog-men as biological detectors.

"Boss, I once conquered the Serenity Grassland alongside the Great Chieftain, and during the Great Crusade, we conquered 888..."

In this world, Sigismund is my good brother, Primarch Dorn personally awarded me his medal, and I am also the Marshal of the Black Templars.

But what you don't know is that I am also one of the Canid Eight, the first eight Dog-men to follow the Great Chieftain. Our Bane clan has been favored by the Emperor for generations, and the Great Chieftain treated me like his own son. It was the Great Chieftain who saved my life when I was about to starve to death.

Since ancient times, loyalty to one's country and filial piety have been difficult to reconcile; don't put your brother in a difficult position.

"I understand, I understand. We're brothers, I can still tell right from wrong when it comes to matters of principle."

Anyone who could rise to the position of Great Commander of the Adeptus Custodes was no fool. Even Trajan, for him, found the His Majesty's actions somewhat displeasing. He longed to see the His Majesty he envisioned. Immediately, he raised his right fist and shouted, "His Majesty is in grave danger! The Primarchs are healing him. No one is to approach! Anyone who disobeys will be executed!"