Quack! It's Kirimode Al Zhenxibo, we're saved!

Tears still flow as I recall those days, Mordred returns home.

As the former fifth Chaos God and now a candidate for the sixth Chaos God, Mordred's reputation score is extremely unstable.

Moreover, this extremely unstable reputation score is not for humans or gods, but for the entire Warp.

Other people, or other weird and wonderful things, who want to become gods have to cry and beg, not only do they need to be prestigious enough, but they also need to be part of a large race that can become the overlord, and in the end, they have to be willing to sacrifice themselves.

This is the essential process for achieving godhood, and this is just preparation. It doesn't mean that you can immediately ascend to godhood after completing these steps; it's just that you've cast the bait.

Becoming a god is like fishing; all your preparations are to attract fish, and these fish are none other than the various echoes in the tides of the Sea of Souls.

As everyone knows, 90% of anglers come back empty-handed; they can catch anything except fish. This isn't about how well you prepare, but rather about luck.

When luck comes, nothing can stop it; when luck isn't on your side, even if you bait the ground with buckets of bait, you still won't catch anything!

Moreover, it's not like you can become a god just because you want to, nor is it like you can choose whatever you want. Only when all your actions correspond to a certain fish are you qualified to catch that fish and put it into your belly.

Take Slaanesh as an example. He represents the ultimate indulgence and craving of desire. You can't say that before the birth of Slaanesh, all beings did not indulge and crave desire. Rather, when a certain singularity appeared, this giant fish called Ecstatic Perception Resonated with the Aeldari.

Therefore, Slaanesh is not only Chaos Gods, but also a racial god of the Aeldari, and has obtained a template framework formed by the condensation of the Aeldari race's pan-consciousness, thus having a concept of self.

If you still don't understand, then you can think of the Warp as the Way of Heaven. You need to project the grand vision of the heavens and summon the world to become a king.

And most importantly, it depends on appearance. Someone like Vashtorr, who is so desperate to become a god, is useless. Putting aside whether he has met the three essential elements for godhood, he is not lucky enough. To be more accurate, he is not crazy enough.

After all, going mad is a sign of becoming a god!

So, Mordred crazy enough? Absolutely! Is there a race that is self-centered, has the ambition to become the galactic overlord, and is willing to risk their lives for it? Yes, there is!

And his prestige goes without saying. Primarch is a minor god of the Warp. Although he doesn't easily set the galaxy ablaze, a closer look reveals that Atlas was responsible for 70% of the logistical support for all legions during the Great Crusade.

The Great Crusade also lasted 200 years, but the Empire's territory was a quarter larger than the one in the official history. These creatures were not killed by Mordred, but every killing was inseparable from the weapons and ammunition manufactured by Atlas, and its influence was no less than that of the Yellow Skins.

These three elements are all there, practically a birthright in Rome, except Mordred doesn't want to become some damn Chaos God. But the problem is, while you might not want to, the Warp does!

It might sound a bit strange, but this is actually the most clichéd underlying logic: this world is not dead, but alive; there really is a so-called world will, both in the Warp and in the Physical World.

According to the Emperor, he was already desperate when he and the Four Merchants were fighting over the Primarch in the locker room brawl, thinking he might as well go all in and fight to the death.

At that moment, a vision suddenly appeared beside him, advising him not to do so. That person was none other than Ol' Peson, the Emperor's first White Moonlight.

Given the chaotic scene at the time, with five lunatics fighting each other, the AoE damage alone could have shattered countless T'au'va Goddess. Ol' Peson simply couldn't have been there.

Therefore, there is only one explanation: the Great Cosmic Will in the Physical World intervened, unwilling to allow the Dark King to be born, and thus allowed the Warp to erode the Physical World.

The Warp and the Physical World are mirror images of each other, existing in a state of mutual interdependence, achieving a perfect cycle. However, this cycle was broken after the War in Heaven.

The Warp was generous to Mordred; no matter how silly he was, he was still a remnant of the higher dimensions, a true gift from God. The Warp's will took one look and thought, "Hey, this little weirdo is a bit odd, but he's quite to my liking. He must become my trusted advisor."

Others need to follow procedures to the best of their ability, but Mordred just does things half-heartedly. However, the boss likes him, and even the Four Gods team up to force-feed him cream puffs.

This puff pastry might not sound like a good thing, but countless Daemon Prince would love it but couldn't have it. Just this favor alone would make Vashtorr cry himself to sleep in the bathroom.

So what did Mordred do? He fired his boss, and not only that, he reported the company. And that wasn't the end of it; he even took over his workstation, but he didn't do any work. "I can't fight the Warp, but I'll just annoy you, I'll make you sick."

This kind of behavior of "smashing the pot after eating one's fill" isn't unheard of. The last person to do it was Emperor, and the price he paid was being beaten half-paralyzed and turned into a toilet ornament for 10,000 years.

But there was still some favoritism. Mordred wasn't as bad off; his price was paying off his debts, having to vomit up everything he had eaten, not a single drop left.

This is why he was incredibly weak when he reappeared, unable to even defeat a rat, and could only enter Jeanne's body like a psychopath to deceive children.

Mordred is in a very awkward situation. He does have the account "Chaos Realm," but the problem is that he doesn't own it. In fact, in terms of legitimacy, his "Lord of Greedy Dissolution" is not as legitimate as the "Ashen Herald."

The problem is that Mordred, having been fooled once, doesn't know how to do it, and he can't do it.

Previously, it was due to a bug and a time difference. Now that he's going to ascend to godhood, he'll be the Fifth Brother, not the fifth. And the existence of the sixth proves that there must be Fifth Brother.

The Emperor is currently in a state of semi-death. Don't be fooled by his seemingly gluttonous growth; he's actually in a worse state than anyone else. He already carries the pressure of a godhood on his shoulders, and if another one comes, it will fall on his shoulders as well.

Mordred was already half-dead from carrying one burden, and he didn't even dare to think about what would happen if he carried another one. He wasn't sure if he could handle it, but in the end, he couldn't. His stubbornness had turned into a double bind.

But blocking both ends doesn't mean it's completely blocked. People with constipation know to use an enema, and Guilliman just happens to be that enema.

"What? You're telling me to infiltrate the Warp alone, then go to your who-knows-what kind of demonic realm to rescue people, and that demonic realm isn't even owned by you."

Seeing Mordred frantically piling food onto his plate and even opening a bottle of Prospero beer, Guilliman was dumbfounded. "Second Brother, you know me. I'm just a Psychic Power Muggle. I've studied for so long and I still can't make a Psychic Power call. And you're sending me alone to the Chaos Realm to rescue someone? If you want me dead, just say so!"

And why should I go?

"Hey hey hey, brother, my dear 13th brother, How Could your Second Brother harm you? Putting everything else aside, if you die, who will be your beast of burden? Don't you think so?"

"That's true!" Guilliman, who was very self-aware, had already accepted the fact that he was a beast of burden, but he still didn't understand why he was being asked to go.

Guilliman may be a bit of a Muggle, but he's not stupid. Even though he can't use any Psychic Power abilities yet, he has one advantage: he loves reading.

After experiencing the beauty of numbers for the first time, Guilliman also began his learning journey. After Octarius merged with Rambo, devoured Khorne's blessing and evolved into a Genetic Superhound, and used the Great Cataclysm to tear apart the sphere, he became even more determined to learn Psychic Power knowledge.

This Psychic Power is great, I need to learn it!

Thanks to the Ultramarines' Ambition endeavors over the past ten thousand years, Ultramarines have sealed away a vast amount of blasphemous material, including but not limited to the manuscript of the Lectitio Divinitatus of Luojia, Mordred's Ogryn series, Magnus's Warp Psychic Power deconstruction, and even fragments of the Tower of Babel from Old Terra.

The Imperium of Man has never stopped researching the Warp. Based on existing knowledge, Guilliman can certainly be considered a theoretical Psychic Power master, similar to Wang Yuyan of the empire.

Everyone thought Guilliman was a Psychic Power Muggle, and he was indeed a Muggle, but his understanding of the Warp and even Psychic Power was no worse than that of other Primarchs. After Primarch, and when Super Strength didn't work, he started using his Super Brain.

That's why he didn't understand why Mordred wanted him to go. But Guilliman had one advantage: he had a mouth and knew how to ask, and he actually did.

But Guilliman didn't know was that he actually had an even greater advantage, which was the reason Mordred insisted he go and rescue the person. "Brother, you know what? You have a strength that nobody else has."

What are its strengths?

Glancing at Guilliman's rather pert buttocks, Mordred patted him on the shoulder and said, "Big ass, good for bearing children!"

"Ah! Second Brother, are you kidding me? What kind of advantage is this?"

"That's definitely an advantage, don't look down on it, brother. This advantage is more desirable than anything else. If Atlas's Gene-Seed had even half the compatibility rate of the Ultramarines, I wouldn't even have a chance to get Sanguinius."

And don't forget, the fact that Ultramarines are good at bearing children is only one aspect; you're actually the most fertile one. Haven't you realized you're quite special?"

Perhaps realizing something, Guilliman quickly glanced at his father, who was still playing games on the Golden Throne, then at Alpharius and Omega sitting beside him, who were growing rapidly while eating like idiots. Only then did he pull Mordred to a secluded corner. "How did you know I've bred breedable Aeldari -Abhumans?"

"What?"

Mordred was genuinely shocked. He hadn't expected that Guilliman, with his thick eyebrows and big eyes, would be even more blasphemous than him. He had only given the Aeldari a name, but Guilliman had actually created Abhumans.

A normal person would have shouted "Heretics, die!" but fortunately Mordred wasn't normal. Instead, she whispered:

"Is it your and Yvraine's child?"

"No, it's just that I modified and cloned a batch of Psychic Power -specialized Abhumans based on Tarasha's genetic sample, and in the 666th generation, I obtained a stable individual that, apart from being completely weakened, has no defects and still possesses Psychic Power potential, especially with a shorter reproductive cycle than the Aeldari— "

"Stop! Don't say anything more, destroy it immediately."

Before Guilliman could finish speaking, Mordred interrupted him, saying that "666 generations" sounded unreliable and that it was probably Slaanesh causing trouble again.

"But."

"There are no buts. Our plan is to assimilate the Aeldari, not to physically assimilate them like you did. If something goes wrong, you'll be jumping into a fire pit yourself."

I conducted this Blasphemous Experiment 10,000 years ago. I can tell you definitively that it's meaningless, and the substrate I used back then was yours too.

"What?! Second Brother, you tricked me!"

"Nonsense! Why did I confess to so many crimes at the Council of Nicaea back then? Did you think they were all fake? The prototype came from the Dark Eldar's 'false offspring,' but I've already discarded it."

Back at the table, Mordred pointed at Guilliman and explained, "Since you're not being honest either, I'll be frank with you."

According to my research, you can perfectly receive any infusion, and even seamlessly connect with my body. You are simply the perfect original Gundam. The Ultramarines is the jack-of-all-trades, not outstanding in any one thing, but good at a little bit of everything.

So I have an idea: since I can't log into my account, I'll create my own alternate account and then let you be my alternate alt account."

"I understand. You mean you want me to be the heir to the Demon Realm?"

"That's right, Guilliman, I suspect your IQ is at least 160. You're simply a genius!"

However, just to be on the safe side, your inheritance rights need to be moved further down the line to mitigate the harm as much as possible. You need to go from being a legitimate heir to an unwanted illegitimate child, but not too much like an illegitimate one; at least enough to get in."

Guilliman, true to his RTS strategy skills, grasped the concept instantly, then clutched his backside in shock. "How many people are there?"

"Let me do the math. First, we can't be without one. Then there's one to break in, one to ensure survival, and one as insurance. With you in the mix, there are at least five of us."

"Five! You mean four people have to enter my body? Wouldn't that turn me into Conventional Weapon?"

Isn't this a good thing?

Fuck you! Guilliman has experienced merging with others before, and to prevent assassination, Mordred even sent Rambo to Guilliman's side as a bodyguard.

If things go wrong, Rambo will commit suicide to become Guilliman's fusion material, turning him into Guilliman's replacement.

Guilliman has stats but no mechanics, Rambo has mechanics but no stats, but putting the two together is like having both mechanics and stats. Anyway, committing suicide doesn't mean he's really dead, and as long as he's separated again, he'll be a good dog again.

But Rambo was just a Dog-men, not one of the four Primarch, Guilliman couldn't imagine what it would be like to have four more consciousnesses inside him.

Seeing Guilliman's life-or-death state, Mordred had no choice but to revise the plan again, changing the original five-person team into a simpler four-person group, leaving the empty spot for the Yellow Skins to cast a spell from nowhere.

"How about Russ? Russ's Psychic Power strength is no less than Pony's, and Space Wolves is a dog too, perfect as a search and rescue dog."

"No, try another one."

"What about Luojia? Luojia is Chaos Special Forces user. In case of an emergency, she can just log in and fight on her behalf, becoming Golden Word Envoy. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

"No way, Luojia has a criminal record. Although she has grown hair now, she used to be bald. You are my mother's godson. Are you just going to watch me become Horus, with that bald head?"

"That Angron?"

"Second Brother, did you call me?"

Upon hearing the summons, Angron leaped onto the dining table, followed by three little followers: Elysia, the corrupted lover of Luojia; Tarasha, Guilliman's adopted daughter; and Seven, the leader of the Emperor Spirit and a super yellow-skinned Seven.

Perhaps due to hardware backlash, or perhaps Angron is simply someone who enjoys playing it safe, in any case, after the epic nerf, Angron not only didn't seem troubled, but instead formed a team with three other little guys.

Besides keeping the Yellow Skins happy every day and helping him rank up in games, the most important job is to command the army of weasels to catch mice.

And because he went to Old Terra with Mordred, this guy kept spouting cheesy jokes, like dragons being the harbinger of emperors, etc.

Watch me poke a thousand holes in you! Our family isn't afraid of acid! Congratulations, Dad, you can become emperor now! What will we eat if you leave? I've never been one for fighting.

Now Mordred is even hesitating about whether to initiate the World Eaters Reorganization Plan. What if this Gene-Seed inherited some evil thing? That would be disastrous.

Seeing that the fat cat Angron was eating and gaining weight, not only eating himself but also packing up all the food on the table to take to the other the Trio, Mordred immediately crossed out Angron's name.

The final list was released, and the selected contestants to be Guilliman's jinchūriki were Mordred, Zhuang Sen, and Sisyphus. With Guilliman himself included, they formed a standard running team of three men and one woman.

Then consider the Emperor as the signal transmitter; it's like having both vinegar and dumplings, the only thing missing is two cloves of garlic.

As for the garlic, that's more important; Mordred must ensure Guilliman's safe return.

With the plan set, there was no hesitation. Ignoring Guilliman's protests, Mordred ordered a telegram to Sisyphus and Zhuang Sen, instructing them to come to Holy Terra immediately, citing Guilliman's presence as the reason.

"What? I'm dead? Second Brother, you're just making me look like I'm dead?"

"Nonsense, if they didn't say you were dead, how could they possibly come back so quickly? They could just hold the banquet and your funeral together, so even if you really died, they could at least have eaten their own meal."

"How can his life still be in danger?"

"You believe there's no danger to your life? Remember, your name is now Mord El Shinshibo, codename Mambo!"

On the other hand, Mordred stared into deep thought as he looked at his drastically altered body.

According to Mordred's plan, he had actually noticed that demonic realm long ago, but it wasn't the right time yet; he wanted to develop it steadily.

After all, he had been ripped off by the Four Merchants before. Although he wouldn't be distorted by Chaos, the excessive infusion in a short period of time would still make him feel half-dead and automatically enter a dormant period, causing him to act entirely on instinct.

As a result, Mordred went from a green-named monster to a yellow-named monster, completely losing her mind and becoming easily manipulated by others.

Being tricked once was enough for Mordred; she didn't want to be tricked a second time. Therefore, her diet had to be nutritionally balanced, but right now she was clearly over-nourished, with not a single drop of blood being her own—it was all Khorne's dog blood.

Digestion takes time, and that's exactly what he lacks right now. So Mordred had no choice but to fight fire with fire, so he came to Mars and told Guilliman to take good care of himself before leaving, adding, "I'm going out to buy you an orange."

As the other head of the Imperial Double Eagles, the Adeptus Mechanicus was not actually part of the Empire, but rather a partner of the Empire, which would have been incredibly powerful 10,000 years ago.

But abstractly speaking, with 10,000 years of continuous decline, the Adeptus Mechanicus, which once revered technology and was the most ardent advocate of the Imperial Truth, became synonymous with ignorance and completely sank into the Empire's cesspool.

If those Mechanicus who fought alongside the empire 10,000 years ago saw this group of unfilial descendants, they would surely roar in fury.

But none of that matters anymore. With the Primarch's return, the Adeptus Mechanicus has sensed the crisis. The various Forge World are all wielding their Little Lu Bu and have begun to cooperate deeply with their respective legions, completely ignoring the Mars headquarters.

As for whether the Forge Lord was dissatisfied with this, he certainly was, since the legion represented supply distribution and large orders.

The Forge Lord met with Guilliman more than once, wanting the Lord Regent to hand over the forging supplies for the Legion's expedition to the Adeptus Mechanicus, so as to recreate the glory of the Great Crusade.

But Guilliman isn't stupid. He was once alone and could only use political means to balance things out. Now that his good brothers are back, you still want to negotiate with me?

Those within the family know their own affairs. Don't be fooled by the Primarch's constant bullying of Guilliman; when it comes to real matters, they'll step in. Atlas goes to check the accounts, Space Wolves act as internal security guards, Dark Angels handle internal counter-terrorism.

If you don't want to be shot eight times in the back and commit suicide, and then be charged with colluding with Xenos and Chaos to smuggle the sacred property of the Empire, then you'd better work honestly. If you don't, there are plenty of people who will.

With the Legion in full swing, the Adeptus Mechanicus, an extremely competitive and closed-off academic group, is simply not going to survive, and more and more Abo Sister are starting to be assigned Legions.

Most importantly, while everyone's attention was focused on the Indomitable Expedition, Guilliman had secretly cultivated a large number of political clerks over the past 30 years.

Other native Arch-Magos of the Forge World also cooperated deeply with Atlas, joining the Holy Terra Vocational Technical College in a highly transparent manner with Legion guarantees, completely eliminating middlemen and their markups.

You don't even need to worry about research funding. As long as your technological achievements are useful to the Empire and you submit a substantial pledge of allegiance, you can access Atlas's technological reserves.

If you're wondering where the research funding came from, well, Mordred, who's in charge of finances, simply pocketed the Adeptus Mechanicus's allocation.

This series of combined attacks threw the Mars Adeptus Mechanicus into a panic, but they were helpless, as everything was in accordance with regulations, and the Legion, a purely violent unit, had once again descended upon them.

So when Mordred arrived on Mars in his little, dilapidated ship, the New Higurashi, he was greeted the moment he reached the starport by Wood Udiya, Forge Lord whose power rivaled that of a behemoth unit, waving at him from the docking station. "Great Commander! You've arrived without even a greeting! Please don't mind this small gift!"

"Oh?" Taking the bracelet from Oud Oudia Raskian, the five gems on it sparkled. But if you looked closely, you would find that they were not five gems at all, but five life-size replicas of planet models.

This small gift signifies that ownership of these five worlds has been handed over to Mordred, and this is the Empire, a corrupt and shady organization that can only function through collusion and embezzlement.

As for the Empire's so-called million worlds, just take that with a grain of salt. The Serenity 50 Worlds alone, occupied by Atlas, comprise more than fifty planets.

These private properties are too numerous to count; how could the entire empire only have a million worlds? If the empire only had a million worlds, it would have perished long ago.

Before the data Forge Lord could even select the most appropriate option from 763 dialogue choices, it heard a sentence that instantly raised its body temperature by 3.7 degrees Celsius: "You're going to use this to take the postgraduate entrance exam? You know the rules."