The Darktide Squad Produces Talent Abundantly

The Emperor survived, but only a tiny fraction of it, roughly equivalent to the tip of a nail growing wildly outwards due to paronychia.

Even so, given the Emperor's immense power, this mere fingernail tip is enough to manipulate ruthlessly, at least enough to speak and move one's hand.

It was the same set of kitchen utensils, the same Hot Pot, but this time there was one more person at the table. The Yellow Skins could finally eat in a proper manner, instead of having its intestines slugged into its body like a roast goose.

Even so, it was impossible for the Emperor to move around properly. No matter what, he could not escape the Golden Throne. If he moved, it would explode, and if it exploded, he would die. Even when Mordred and the others changed the Emperor's suit, his buttocks were stuck to the throne.

However, on the other hand, the Emperor of that time didn't even have buttocks. The Corpse Emperor mentioned by the Chaos Warband wasn't just a slogan, but a factual account, truly a piece of witchcraft and salted meat.

But the Emperor doesn't care about that now. He just wants to have a proper hot pot meal, not some fried chicken, onion, and beer-flavored minced meat, nor the carbohydrate feast that Serenity refers to as rice as dishes, but a proper meal.

"What does it mean to know how to eat? This is what it means to know how to eat! Look at these slices of meat, and look at these vegetables. Only vegetables with green leaves can be called vegetables. The suffering I've endured over the years—hunger, sleepiness, exhaustion, and itching—is unbearable."

You really have no idea how I survived those 10,000 years. It was a miserable experience, and there was also that bunch of useless Adeptus Custodes.

The Tzeentch Birdman weaves nightmares for me, keeping me awake at night. The Khorne Dog Head makes my wounds bleed, once every eight days, more frequently than my period.

Slaanesh made me locally congested with blood, I'm practically a skeleton now, do you think that's useful? Ten thousand years, that's a whole ten thousand years!

"So you must be feeling quite repressed!"

"Who says otherwise? And that sly, fat bastard, that fat bastard is the most insidious. He cursed me to have a whole host of diseases, my nose is so itchy I can't even scratch it, and what's worse, he also cursed me to have hemorrhoids."

At this point, even the Emperor was a little distraught. This 48,000-year-old man, bedridden and forced to sit up, was being cursed by Nurgle to get hemorrhoids? Was this something a human being would do?

I don't know why, maybe some kind of switch was flipped, or maybe he couldn't bring himself to say those sacred, witty things after holding them back for 10,000 years. In any case, the Emperor of the past was as enigmatic as the Emperor of today.

It went from one extreme to another.

Feeling the wonderful sensation of tender slices of meat sliding across his mouth, followed by a piece of fresh, just-cooked vegetable leaf soaked in broth, and finally a spoonful of meat broth glistening with blue oil, the Emperor was so happy with the delicious taste of the meal that he almost cried tears of joy.

Thinking about it, it makes sense. A few days of isolation at home during the pandemic can make people withdrawn, but at least they can access the internet, communicate, and still have hands and feet to move. If the Divine Seal Network hadn't collapsed, and the Yellow Skins had been given a terminal, he wouldn't be in such a miserable state.

But now that the Yellow Skins has regained some of its sanity, it has to get to work.

"Old Man Huang, what's wrong with you right now? As Perpetual, can you really be resurrected? If you can, I'll stab you to death with one claw." With that, Mordred extended a third hand.

Seeing the chitinous claws flashing with Emerald Lightning and Decomposition Field, claws capable of splitting a tank open with a single strike, the most normal Guilliman quickly restrained Mordred, and also restrained the Lion King, who had already drawn his sword.

"Big brother, Second Brother, can't you ask first? Why are you in such a hurry? What if Dad dies? By the way, Father, are you really going to die?"

"Nonsense! Guilliman, you Ambition and Rebellious son, I even suspect you're a bastard. Use your brain, will you? Your father is Perpetual, not undead."

The Emperor put down his chopsticks. How could he not want to exploit a bug? But ironically, he was already exploiting a bug, only this time it wasn't the Perpetual bug, but the Dark King bug.

"Actually, I should have died a long time ago, and then resurrected as usual, but the question is, if I die now, will it still be me when I wake up?"

After these words were spoken, everyone was speechless.

Yes, although he is Perpetual being, the Emperor is by no means invincible. On the contrary, the Emperor is powerful because of his Psionic Power. Many Perpetual are weaklings; their strength lies in their mechanics rather than their stats. Eldar and the Emperor are just a very small minority.

Take the first Warmaster Ol' Peson, whose sheep were always stolen, as an example. His normal exertion was equivalent to that of an ordinary Psyker. Lock him in a sulfuric acid box with Adamantium and launch him into deep space, and he would be sealed away.

The Emperor's situation is different. If he wants to resurrect, he has to die first. But once the Emperor dies, he will be passively ascended to godhood. Terra is blown up into a second Eye of Terror and will directly become a false god's offspring before he can be resurrected.

Moreover, it's uncertain whether they can be resurrected. Even if they can be resurrected, it will be of no use. It will simply mean that the Four Merchants and the surviving humans form a desperate alliance, or that the Four Merchants plus the Emperor and the survivors form a desperate alliance.

Even if there's only a 1% chance, you absolutely must not use the Filial Piety Sword to stab the Yellow Skins. This isn't a matter of luck; it's a matter of life and death.

"Then what use are you? To display you as a mascot?"

"Hey, Second Brother Mordred, how dare you talk to me like that? No matter what, I'm still your father. I'm just partially paralyzed, not dead. I'm carrying the weight of the entire empire's five domains and millions of worlds on my shoulders. Give me some face, okay?"

"What a load of rubbish!" Mordred thought to herself. "Do you even have any dignity left? You're willing to cross-dress just to be lazy, and you're even holding our hands and swearing oaths to beg for forgiveness."

The thought that this person was his father made Mordred feel like his life was over; all his bad luck had come from this guy.

But when it comes to shamelessness and thick-skinnedness, the Emperor is definitely a professional. Perhaps feeling that his words just now lacked confidence, the Emperor was eager to prove himself and directly activated his powerful Psychic Power, pulling countless comets from the void.

It rained on Holy Terra!

That's it?

Even Embryonic Killer like Zhuang Sen was helpless. "Father, if you don't have anything to do, you don't have to bother. Wouldn't it be better to use that time to send people to fire a few rain-making bombs to create artificial rain? Terra just doesn't have a sea, it's not like it doesn't have water."

The Terra aren't Mars. You didn't use this trick to fool the Adeptus Mechanicus back then, did you? The "auspicious signs from the sky" act is meaningless now. It might have worked 10,000 years ago, but who believes that now?

Being a veteran artist, the Emperor remained calm and collected, tearing open a light barrier to cast a spell remotely, much like a witch, completely forgetting who said there were no gods or ghosts in this world and that everyone should believe in the Imperial Truth.

It has to be said that changing the Yellow Skins's skin is like XX faking his death—it's absolutely ingenious. At least it's pleasing to the eye, instead of a giant Psychic Power guy going crazy.

Through the light screen, everyone saw a Kill Teams clad in black armor: a Dog-men, two Space Marine, and an Ogryn —a fairly standard four-person combat team.

The only problem is that this composition is too unusual. It's understandable for Space Marine, but it's also understandable for Dog-men, since Dog-men who do well can infiltrate the Adeptus Custodes Guard.

The Dog-men have proven themselves through millennia of Fealty, becoming an integral part of the empire and a model among Abhumans. Many Abhumans aspire to become pillars of the empire like the Dog-men.

But what's wrong with Ogryn? Even the Ogryn, a specialty of Serenity, are a bit dim-witted. They're said to be able to count from one to 100, but in reality, they can only count to 20. Only a very few Grey Ogryn can count to 100, and not only that, they're also exceptionally intelligent.

Their enemies were also strange; they were an entire Hive City of Genestealer. But most abstractly, these four were not crushed by the insects. Instead, they were like warriors in a game of Musou, rubbing the insects into the ground.

This combat power, far exceeding that of a typical Kill Teams, was completely abnormal. The moment they appeared, they attracted the attention of all the Primarchs, causing Mordred to break out in a cold sweat.

As the light screen unfolded, the Emperor began to exert his power, bestowing numerous blessings like Chaos God, including but not limited to power amplification, Psychic Power wings, void lock-on, vengeful perception, unlimited ammunition, and instant bullet firing—directly turning the four little black figures into Gold Men.

"See? I haven't been slacking off for the past 10,000 years. With the Great Rift unfolding, I can interfere with reality more easily. I even doubt Abaddon's Fealty."

"Wait a minute." Before the Emperor could finish speaking, Guilliman pointed at the Space Marine and said, "Second Brother, isn't this Sicarius? You're clearly sending my son to his death. I need an explanation."

"What explanation? Caldor has already sold Sicarius to me, taking over Titus's position, which is perfect for building my Darktide Squad."

Mordred wiped his mouth with his red scarf, sneered, and retorted, "I sent Sicarius to work to train him; Titus is the one who suffered the most."

You made him the Second Company Captain, fine, but the company wasn't even at full strength, and you sent him to support Baal, making him go around in the Ghoul Sector, saying you wanted him to open up a new route connecting the Imperium Nihilus.

Why don't you just say let him lead 200 men, divided into 200 groups, to reclaim the Ultramar 500 Worlds? Guilliman, you're even more ruthless than me."

"What happened to Azrael? I thought he was Killed in Action." Following the Lion King's finger, another Space Marine had his helmet accidentally knocked off by the Purestrain Genestealer, revealing a face that Mordred and Zhuang Sen both recognized.

It was none other than Azrael, the former Chapter Master the Dark Angels Chapter.

How could Mordred possibly answer this? He couldn't very well say that Azmyow was terrified, afraid that the Primarch would find out that he was the one who blew up Caliban, and that his Orbital Bombardment caused Zhuang Sen and the Luther brothers (mother and son, master and apprentice, father and son) to turn against each other, ultimately killing half of the Dark Angels and causing the Fallen Angels to be hunted down for millennia.

The mistake Azmyow made was comparable only to that of Ahriman, who lost a thousand words with a single Rubric.

After Zhuang Sen pardoned the Fallen Angels, Azmyow lived in constant fear, which led to her depression. Finally, she went to him and begged her Second Uncle to arrange a place for her to take refuge.

"Ah, this is Azrael, who was seriously injured and on the verge of death when Atlas found him. He felt ashamed of his failure to live up to your expectations and disgraced his father."

That's right, he joined the Darktide Squad because he was afraid of seeing you.

"Oh, I see. No wonder he was so flustered the last time I saw Azrael. It seems I put too much pressure on them."

It's not that easy to fool Zhuang Sen; his instincts work better than his brain. But Mordred wasn't lying either; everything he said was true. As for why he panicked, that's another story.

As the battle intensified and injuries became inevitable, the group discovered a new problem through the Psychic Power projection. Luojia pointed to the Dog-men radiating red, gold, and a hint of green light and asked, "Second Brother, why is this Dog-men different?"

"What's different? Luojia, you can't just say things like that. Dog-men have always been like this, okay? You should think more about your own problems. This is light and shadow refraction caused by environmental factors; it's a normal phenomenon."

"Blood sacrifice to the God-Emperor, skull offered to the Golden Throne!" "Ancestors, witness!" "For Super Serenity, I will annihilate you all!"

"Hal, what are you pretending for, you Thunder Warriors? There's nobody here. Quickly cut off their heads and turn them into a mound of skulls. Use your invincible Psychic Power to think of a way."

-"

"Second Brother, is this a normal phenomenon of light and shadow refraction? I believe in the Blood God Emperor and your Triple Dog-men, and a Thunder Warriors disguised as Ogryn who can use Psychic Power. I don't know how those two Astartes managed to sneak in."

"It's just a regular squad, no traitors, all loyal soldiers."

Mordred had planned everything perfectly, but he hadn't expected them to open the box for him. He even suspected that the Yellow Skins was deliberately targeting him, but he soon realized something was wrong.

As Hal danced with all his might, a Warp Rift was torn open, but instead of Daemon, one Legion of the Damned after another appeared.

For the Imperial high command, especially the Primarch, the Legion of the Damned were no secret; they were present during the Plague War raid on Nurgle's Garden.

But this time is different. No matter what, Nago Garden of Nurgle is in the Warp, but this time it is in the Physical World, and so many have been summoned.

"See? Father, I'm not some nobody!"

The Four Gods? Bah! A bunch of withered bones in a tomb. If Kou can go, so can I. Now I've finally sat down at the card table."

The ability to command Legion of the Damned to interfere with reality would undoubtedly be a great asset, but that wasn't Mordred's intention; rather, he was focused on the 13 Logic Core he had created.

Since the sudden death of the Yellow Skins is equivalent to a human sacrifice, conversely, it means that as long as the Yellow Skins doesn't die suddenly, the Logic Core will never go out of control, and then this round is in the bag.

Mordred even conceived an extremely audacious idea: if Legion of the Damned are possible, does that mean there can also be Thunder-forged soldiers?

But to be absolutely certain, Mordred still asked, "Old Man Huang, you're quite something now, playing as Legion of the Damned. Does that mean you're a god?"

"What?! I Am Not a God!"