For the Imperium, Please Debut as a Virtual Idol, Yellow Skins!
Even when the universe is annihilated, three mouths will remain in this void.
One mouth shouts "I am Rogal Dorn!", another mutters that everything is going according to plan, and the last mouth resolutely shouts "I Am Not a God. If another one comes, we'll have four people to play mahjong."
Sometimes Mordred even wondered if the Emperor was some kind of sentient Harkon Hajimi, because his underlying logic was truly undeniable.
Feeding stray cats triggers their hissing when they encounter unknown creatures, and the aroma of the cat food encourages Hajimi to eat, resulting in Hajimi eating while hissing.
Emperor are the same way. No matter when or where, even if you call him an idiot one minute and ask him if he's a god the next, he'll first say "I Am Not a God," and then he'll come back to insult you.
There is indeed some truth to this, and it has become the underlying logic of the Emperor, but that's exactly the effect Mordred wanted.
"Yellow Skins, no, my dear father, you say you are not a god, but a man, then what proof do you have?"
"What proof do I need? Is there anyone in this room, or even in the entire Terra, more of a pure human than me? I'm a Race-level human."
"What if someone wore terrifyingly ornate golden armor year-round, had a giant halo behind their head, wielded an ever-burning Fire Sword, built a monument the size of a continent for themselves, dressed their guards in equally ornate golden armor, conducted as many genetic experiments as possible, stood nearly 5 meters tall, and created a functional Pantheon composed of genetically engineered demigods, one of whom looked exactly like Sanguinius."
After finishing his explanation in one breath, Mordred continued, "So, is this thing a god or a human?"
Now the Emperor understood. So you're targeting me, huh? He thought to himself, "As the Galaxy's Coolest, the epitome of masculinity, the man among men, what's wrong with putting on a show?"
"It's a person!"
"Okay, I really enjoy your stubbornness. I've already figured out what kind of job you can do next, I guarantee you'll like it, and it won't be tiring."
After saying that, Mordred ran out of the underground palace amidst everyone's puzzled gazes, and then quickly returned, this time carrying a K3 portable miniature Divine Seal Terminal base station.
"Mordred, what do you mean by this?" the Lion King asked.
"Of course, we'll connect via network cable!"
"Haven't you noticed a problem? The Yellow Skins is completely immobile right now. If you ask him to handle government affairs, I'd say he'll slack off 99% of the time, if not 100%. Rather than having to outwit him in the future, it's better to find him a good job. It's like hoping your father will become a dragon."
"And this is my Virtual Idol project."
In fact, Mordred had long ago realized that the greatest predicament facing the Empire was nothing more than communication and transportation.
Regarding transportation, Mordred admitted that he couldn't handle it, which is why he went all in on the Webway Project with the Emperor. After all, if used properly, the Webway could directly solve two problems.
Before Mordred came to this world, the fastest way to transfer information in his original world was not through the internet, but by physically transporting portable hard drives in trucks.
It sounds a bit like Orks, but that's the truth. If you think about it carefully, you'll realize that humans are actually greener than Orks- Orks people, at least the little Orks planes look like MiG fighters.
If the Webway Project succeeds, Mordred's plan will involve deploying a large number of messengers to physically transport information across the Webway to various blocks.
This region communicates by laying Divine Seal Spire. In fact, if the technology advances to a certain level, Divine Seal Spire could be laid all over the entire empire, achieving a unique form of faster-than-light communication.
Unfortunately, the Webway Project collapsed, and the Divine Seal Spire was left unmaintained with the demise of Atlas. In the end, they resorted to patching things up from scratch and were eventually completely destroyed under pressure from various forces.
It's not that Atlas's Divine Seal Network is useless, nor is it that the Chaos forces are causing trouble. On the contrary, the Chaos Gods love it to death. The problem is that it's precisely because it's so useful that it's being targeted.
Ultimately, it boils down to the question of where the millions of laborers would find food and clothing. The Divine Seal Network has impacted the Imperial Astropath, significantly diminishing their rights.
Similar to how the Industrial Revolution impacted handicraft production, and with Mordred and the Emperor no longer backing it up, the Divine Seal Network, now unsupervised, is full of all sorts of monsters and demons. For both public and private reasons, this Divine Seal Network must be sealed off.
But things are different now. With Atlas's return, Mordred has been pushing forward the plan to build the Divine Seal Spire for decades.
Having learned from the previous experience, when Atlas was purging the court of corrupt officials in Guilliman Zhuang Sen, his first target was the Astropathic Court headquarters. It was a choice: either become the Great Commander's dog or die.
Moreover, with the Emperor as the network administrator, it's entirely possible to physically open the box by following the network cable, which is much more exciting than catching Daemon.
As for the manufacturing technology of the Divine Seal Spire, Mordred didn't keep it to himself. He not only made it open source and gave it away for free, but also offered a buy-one-get-one-free deal, and started a business of providing maintenance and upgrade kits.
If even with these relaxed conditions, someone still causes trouble, then Mordred can't do anything about it. After all, imperial lives are worthless; he can just kill them on any pretext. He's not exactly a good person anyway.
Sometimes reasoning is useless. Mordred and Horus were able to get along so well because they were both pure Great Astartes Doctrine.
Controllable Psyker are precious, but the Empire may lack other things, but it has an abundance of people. If you don't want to do it, there are plenty of others who will. Even so, you still have to queue up and take the civil service exam to get a job in the Astropathic Court.
"Old Man Huang, you didn't kill enough people back then, and you weren't ruthless enough. But don't worry, with me here, Astropathic Court will never be shackled again."
"Oh, you mean I'm too kind?"
"Otherwise what? Look at you now, you're the epitome of womanly compassion."
"Exactly, Father, you just lack a sense of the big picture. If you had made me the Warmaster back then, none of this trouble would have happened."
The Emperor glanced at Mordred, then at Zhuang Sen. He didn't say anything, but he was thinking, "How dare you say that? We don't know how many people live in Holy Terra, but you've managed to kill so many that there's no famine anymore. The security is even better than in Macragge."
Is it because the Terra are benevolent? Bullshit! That colossal mound of Jingguan, comparable to Hive City, is still standing there, and the Khorne have been bombarding me with harassing phone calls.
In this light, Guilliman, who was originally Ambition, actually seems much more agreeable.
After Mordred tinkered with it for a while, the K3-type Divine Seal Terminal was shoved onto the Golden Throne, and the Emperor was even given a set of peripherals. The performance was excellent, and the Primarch had handcrafted it.
"Come on, give it a try! The Divine Seal Spire has already covered a small part of the Sol Sector, and there's also a dedicated network connecting to the Maelstrom."
I'll give you administrator privileges. From now on, your job is to be an online troll, play games, do live Live Broadcast, be a Virtual Idol to farm in-game currency, and occasionally show off in front of others.
Although there was an inexplicable sense of unease, upon closer reflection, it made perfect sense. Luojia, whose expertise was a perfect match, even suggested, "Why not start a Holy Mass service, so that the soldiers on the front lines can pray to you, Father, and provide one-on-one service to summon the Cursed Legion? After all, you have so much energy to spare right now, might as well use it."
"What about the pollution of faith? Showing off in public might feel good for a moment, but the pollution of faith leads to certain death. Not to mention, with such a vast empire, how can we discern where support is needed?"
Mortarion is right, or rather, that's the most important issue. The Emperor can indeed be seen as a god Chaos God in the Physical World, but conversely, he is the greatest threat to the Empire today.
But the problem was quickly solved, simply Guilliman stepped forward.
"Brothers, you guys are obviously brainless. Who says you have to respond to prayers? There needs to be a proper procedure, you need to apply, and you need to have all the necessary paperwork. Otherwise, why should we respond to prayers?"
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"Do you understand the process? You can only be qualified to pray after the report is approved and the materials are submitted. We can even stipulate the prayer and offerings. If it is expressed in writing, the line spacing and font size must be consistent. The title should be in square font, small High Gothic Number Two, size 2, not bold. The body text should be in size 3 font, first-level headings should be bold. Time, place, people, and special circumstances must all be clearly marked."
The screening and differentiation is also very simple. Don't we have the Abominable Intelligence? Let's give Father one. As for the pollution of faith, needless to say, open your eyes and take a good look at Father's current appearance and demeanor.
To put it bluntly, if Slaanesh can sit in that position of the Slaanesh, why can't my father? She doesn't deserve it!
I've even planned it all out. As soon as my father makes his debut, we'll immediately launch our plan to annex the Aeldari. We'll snatch all those Eldar Girl, whether they're White sprouts, Flower sprouts, Wild sprouts, or even Black sprouts— I'll take them all without hesitation.
And don't forget, Father is now a reservoir. What to do with all the Faith? Just use it up. There are so many Daemons and Xenos everywhere, and they don't feel pain.
There are far too few Living Saint; we need to mass-produce them so that everyone can grow wings and everyone can receive blessings.
So what if you can't withstand the blessing and die? What does death matter?
Upon hearing this, the Primarchs were astonished, and Mordred even hugged Guilliman tightly, praising him repeatedly.
"Kid, you're a fucking genius, your IQ is at least 250. How did you come up with that?"
To be honest, with his good brothers returning to the Empire one by one, Guilliman did feel less psychological pressure, but on the other hand, he was constantly criticized as a weakling.
There was no other way; Guilliman was simply too important. The Empire never lacked generals who were good at fighting, but it lacked a master of management like Guilliman, whose talent for farming was maxed out. If Guilliman were sent to the battlefield, it would be a dereliction of duty for all the Primarchs.
"Actually, when I was infused with the Khorne before, I accidentally blew up the entire Orctavius. At that time, I thought, if Chaos God can have Greater Daemon, why can't we?"
"Perhaps those who receive the blessing will not survive, but the hymn of humanity is a hymn of courage, and I believe no one would refuse the opportunity to perish together with the enemy."
Second Brother, I believe everyone will realize this, don't cry.
Seeing his brother with tears streaming down his face, Guilliman was deeply Moved. He assumed that his Second Brother was crying for the warriors who were destined to lose their lives, but he didn't know that Mordred was heartbroken.
Guilliman,
"What's wrong, Second Brother? Is my plan bad?"
"That's good, but I want to know what it means to accidentally blow up Orctavius."