A Letter Home

Mordred's stats are high, but he's not invincible; he just can't die. Who knows if that Sword of the Old Woman will turn him into Belial? If he's careless, even digging potatoes in Siberia won't be a dream. He can't exactly have to go through another resurrection round, can he?

Fortunately, Eldrad is not Jing Ke, and Mordred is not Qin Shi Huang. Before the old prophet was slammed into the floor by Rambo's savage charge, the true nature of his plan was not revealed.

Looking around at the Black Knight Guard, guns cocked and muzzle-to-mouth, Eldrad was completely numb—physically numb, no less. "Dog, what did you do to me?"

"It's anesthesia. I gave you an injection of anesthesia in your butt."

Rambo spoke with utmost sincerity, as if he had done something insignificant, but Eldrad did not see it that way.

Looking at the enormous syringe still dangling against his buttocks after being pushed all the way down, in his final moments before falling unconscious, the old prophet, true to his professional ethics, gave a thumbs-up and exclaimed, "Great anesthetic!"

After saying this insincere remark, Eldrad drifted off to sleep. After all, the anesthetic was indeed effective; even Angron couldn't withstand it, and anyone else who used it would collapse.

Because the situation happened so suddenly, by the time Mordred realized that this guy wasn't trying to harm him, but was just offering him a treasure, the Aeldari sprout was already snoring.

What should we do now, eldest son (father)?

"What to do? How should I know what to do? Just do it the old way: take this guy away and send someone to find out everything about him."

Perhaps it was due to the Aeldari's unique constitution, or perhaps it was because Rambo used drugs to the point of near death, but a whole week had passed by the time Eldrad woke up. The old bean sprout almost died of thirst, and only managed to crawl out of his room to find water by sheer will to survive.

To be honest, Mordred hates all sorts of mystical stuff, especially those charlatans who call themselves prophets. They're all pretty bad, just full of weird tricks, nothing as practical as Numerology.

But Eldrad thought differently. Even though he almost had his back broken by that big black dog and was forced to sleep for a whole week, it only strengthened his resolve.

Watching Mordred feasting and occasionally shoveling food into his mouth, Eldrad was utterly satisfied. His old face beamed like a chrysanthemum, making him look like an old eunuch to anyone who didn't know him.

"Holy Father! Now that you've accepted the gift and taken the sword, can't we start discussing cooperation?"

"We can talk, but I don't understand why you, not some small tribe without support, would offer two Maiden World so readily. Such generosity is rare in the Ark World."

"And according to what I've heard, you Old Ones are quite famous, and you even had an affair with a Yellow Skins. Why don't you go find my biological father?"

"Oh, Your Highness is too kind. Actually, the Emperor and I have been best friends for a long time, but it is precisely because we are so familiar with each other that I know what kind of person His Majesty is."

But rest assured, from now on we'll address each other separately. I'll call you Holy Father and His Majesty Elder Brother.

To be honest, the old man was quite eloquent, though eight out of ten of his sentences were nonsense. But that wasn't what Mordred wanted to hear. "Tell me, who sent you?"

"It's the Cegorach!"

"So quick?"

"There's no other way. Our Aeldari's future is gone. A wise bird chooses a good tree to perch on. Rather than dying in the end, we might as well sell ourselves for a good price now."

After a pause, Eldrad pointed to the Sword of the Old Woman that Mordred was hanging at his waist and said, "Keeping this thing in our hands is a disaster. It will always give people some unrealistic fantasies. Those young people only know that collecting the Sword of the Old Woman can awaken the Ynnead."

But how easy is that? Leaving aside whether the yet-to-be-born deity could defeat the Youngest Lady, simply gathering all five divine weapons would be impossible, especially since the final sword is in the Youngest Lady's possession.

The old prophet gave a wry smile, as if he were telling a dark joke that had nothing to do with him, "The Aeldari need five swords to awaken Death, and the way to awaken Death is to attack the Youngest Lady. But the last sword is in the Youngest Lady's hands, so if we want to collect all five swords, we must first attack the Youngest Lady."

This path is a dead end. Instead of pondering it, it would be more practical for the entire Aeldari to commit suicide.

"So you've set your sights on me, hoping I'll protect you?"

"Yes."

Their eyes met, and Mordred didn't ask why she should take them in, and Eldrad didn't mention what price they should pay. After all, the price was everything; if you wanted to curry favor, you had to be prepared to be a dog.

But Mordred still felt something was amiss. He knew why Eldrad had sought refuge with him—wasn't it for peace after death, to avoid being persecuted by Slaanesh?

But Mordred isn't stupid. You didn't come to Atlas when Atlas were a ragtag bunch, and you didn't come to Atlas were at their peak. Why do you have to come now? What are you after?

Before Mordred could speak, Eldrad, under the effect of Passive Face-Reading Technique, took the lead in explaining, "Your Highness, you may not know this, but in fact, the Aeldari had already noticed you during the Great Crusade, but no one believed it at the time, and the Imperium of Man's inclinations were still a little bit extreme."

If we choose to defect to the Empire, it would be tantamount to betraying our entire race, constituting Aeldari traitor. Both sides would want us dead, and no one would believe us just by talking nonsense."

"That's not right!" Mordred remembered that he had sent Ji Yalan to spread Atlas back then, and he had even specially selected a group of Beans to preach to, and even offered the generous treatment of joining the Moon Compensation Cult Serenity 50 Worlds.

The problem was that at that time, it was impossible to recruit anyone. The messengers he sent out died in droves, which eventually forced him to give up completely and start targeting those unruly Wild sprouts who didn't have powerful backers.

Currently, 90% of the Aeldari in Atlas are descendants of those captured Wild sprouts; not a single White sprouts exists, and even Ji Yalan is a Black sprouts, a student of the Commorragh.

Mortred couldn't keep things to himself, and asked the question on the spot. Eldrad's answer left him bewildered.

"You mean to say that my Dark Moon Cult has a bad reputation? How could that be?"

They were weak, helpless, and pitiful. I gave them hope to survive. There couldn't be any bad people among the masses. On the contrary, the messengers who went out to preach never returned.

"Ji Yalan, come here and let this old man see what's wrong with the people of our Dark Moon Cult."

Looking at Ji Yalan, who was more robust and voluptuous than other Elven Aeldari, one could see from his appearance that he was indeed an Elven Aeldari. But was that really the case?

"Your Highness, as far as I know, all Aeldari belonging to Atlas have been expelled from Eldar and placed on the wanted lists of all Aeldari worlds for crimes including, but not limited to, traitors, Aeldari traitor, theft, robbery, human trafficking, genocide, and most importantly, inciting rebellion."

And the messengers you mentioned—even the Dark Eldar aren't as extreme as them, shouting incomprehensible things like "I'm not letting down the Legion's training" before charging at us.

They robbed people first, then kidnapped them. If they resisted, they were locked up and beaten. All the kidnapped Aeldari became like different people, frantically recruiting others to join them. Even the dead were not at peace; their ashes were scattered, claiming it was a way to send them to the afterlife!

Even so, some Aeldari, upon receiving the news, chose to go to the Empire, specifically seeking out the most reputable legion to join, but all of them never returned.

"Impossible, absolutely impossible! I haven't received any news at all. Ever since I brought Isha back, I've waited all these years, and not a single person has come to join me. Which legion did they join?"

"They looked like a group of big, dark-skinned guys wearing green armor, called Salamanders."

"Oh well! Okay then."

Those who are close to the group know their own situation. Perhaps due to the fanaticism of some converts, the Moon Cult led by Ji Yalan was indeed a bit extreme. This is a problem left over from history.

But then again, Atlas would at least give them a chance to surrender. Those Aeldari who were captured are all alive and well, and there's nothing wrong with scattering their ashes. Throwing their souls into the Chaos Energy Furnace and burning them will turn them into ashes, which is a form of salvation.

To Outside World, the Aeldari within Atlas are seen as a bunch of lunatics with a strange religious fanaticism who drive evil fire to burn corpses, and have an even worse reputation than the Dark Eldar's Kabal.

Perhaps this is why Atlas has been unable to recruit people. And once they can't recruit, Atlas will start poaching people, making their reputation worse and worse.

"Prejudice, all of this is prejudice! It's because of you bunch of Old Ones who are so stuck in the past that our Aeldari has ended up like this."

If we can't make the Aeldari great again, then let all the worlds Burning Fiercely! Boss, this Old Ones's trying to trick you, let's kill him.

Facts speak louder than words. Pointing at Ji Yalan, who was about to draw his sword and attack, Eldrad had an expression that said, "Look at them, look how they are."

"Put down the Ji Yalan first, then why are you here again?"

Eldrad's smile grew even more helpless, indicating that their reputation in the Ulthwé Craftworld was also ruined, and they could no longer survive there; there was nothing they could do.

As for why the Ulthwé Craftworld has such a bad reputation, Eldrad didn't say, but Ji Yalan had once been involved in such things, didn't care. He immediately betrayed his compatriot. "Boss, don't believe his nonsense. Even I know that the people of the Ulthwé Craftworld are a bunch of despicable bastards. They're despicable to an outrageous degree. In order to preserve themselves, they dug up the Wraithbone of many worlds, including Biel-Tan and Iyanden."

"What do you mean by digging up graves? I was just conserving my own strength. Those Wraithbone were almost ruined anyway, so rather than letting them go to waste, I figured I might as well get them. I picked them up."

"Stop talking! Just because of what you said, I agree to let you join my Atlas."

"Boss, you're being foolish!" Ji Yalan advised.

"Then I'll make you the head of all the Aeldari."

Upon hearing this, Ji Yalan's expression changed drastically, and she immediately replied, "I agree completely! Boss is wise!"

With this, the integration of the Ulthwé Craftworld into Atlas is now fully in the planning stages; all that remains is for further integration. Mordred is confident that she can assimilate these dry, unruly sprouts into bean sprouts.

Just as Mordred was about to have a nice breakfast and take advantage of the good weather to go out for some sunshine and a nap, Eldal didn't leave with Kialan. Instead, he handed him a letter.

"Your Highness, the reason I came to seek refuge with you was not only because I received a revelation from the Cegorach, nor simply because I had nowhere else to turn, but also because I met your brother, who asked me to deliver a letter home to you."

"A letter? Brother? Chagatai hasn't been completely drained yet—no, this is indeed my brother. Quickly bring the letter up."

Eating breakfast is such a hassle, but as the Primarch, Mordred still has to handle some necessary government affairs. So, she opened the envelope.

But to his surprise, a photo fell out, and after just one glance, he spat out the soy milk in his mouth.

"That terrified me!"