What? I'm the Imperial Warmaster! This is so embarrassing.

In the dark void, a pale blue portal, absorbing and releasing Warp Energy, attacked from Mandeville Point. As the Gellar Field closed, Iron Fleet, led by the Emperor's Dream and accompanied by two Gloriana-class Battleship, sailed out of the Sea of Souls.

The armored shells, scorched by artillery fire, were damaged and shattered; some ships had even lost their mobility and could only continue to move by being towed.

Especially the largest and brightest imperial flagship, half of the ship was damaged, and it could only be kept airtight by some giant mushroom-like fungi.

After years of intense fighting, the entire fleet had reached the point where it needed to be sent back to the factory for major repairs, but all the soldiers of the First Legion were extremely excited, simply because their Primarch had returned.

On the bridge, the Emperor was as arrogant as ever. Just by standing there, he could lock down the morale of all mankind, making them sigh at the greatness of the Master of Mankind.

"Your His Majesty, Caliban has arrived!"

Valdor, the leader of the Adeptus Custodes, rang out from below the stage, causing the Emperor to frown. Perhaps because the Empire's territory was expanding, the Golden Giant was becoming increasingly powerful, though slightly irritable.

"Great! Finally, I don't have to eat those damn mushrooms anymore, Valdor. I feel like if I keep eating them, I might turn into a mushroom myself."

Do you think Guilliman did it on purpose? He was nine months late!

Although the Adeptus Custodes generally held prejudices against the Primarch, they kept it to themselves and would never reveal it, especially not to this Ambition Thirteenth Prince.

"My Lord, Prince Guilliman certainly did not do it on purpose. The Extreme Sector is too vast. Just opening up the void corridor from Terra to Ultramar is comparable in intensity to a part of the Unification Wars. It is already a blessing that they were able to send reinforcements."

Moreover, the Iron Warriors made up for our troop losses; this was a great victory!

"Indeed, after all, we're facing off against that little rascal, Fu. I was the one who brought him into the Academy of Sciences in the first place, and he dared to go against me. But luckily, I'm the better one!"

The thought of the densely packed, seemingly endless horde of bio-engineered beasts stretching from the end of the orbit filled the Emperor with nausea and strengthened his resolve for the Great Crusade.

"I must not let humanity become that wretched state. Humanity will surely become great, and it's time for those remnants of the past to be swept away from the annals of history."

Valdor knew what the Emperor meant. As a veteran who had personally experienced the Unification Wars, Valdor knew better than anyone just how insane those lunatics who had survived the Dark Age of Technology were.

The damage caused by just one person, Fu, reduced half a star sector to nothing, turning all the humans on it into blasphemous bio-monsters.

That Living Planet, a fusion of flesh and blood with spaceships, severely damaged the Imperial Fleet with just one round of bombardment, forcing them to board and decapitate the enemy.

Even so, half of the Emperor's Dream's armor was shattered, which angered the Emperor so much that he personally boarded the ship and captured the culprit.

"So, Your His Majesty, you've come here to educate Mordred and prevent him from going astray?"

"No," the Emperor shook his head, pointing to the untouched mushroom soup on the table, "I'm just tired of eating mushrooms and want something better, and also to get that Rebellious son to pay for my ship repairs."

"Ah, it is indeed an honor for His Majesty Mordred to serve His Majesty! But according to Goff, Atlas has run out of supplies!"

As soon as he uttered the words, Valdor saw the Emperor looking at him with an expression as if he were an idiot, while waving his hands as if playing an Old Terra instrument called an accordion.

"My Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes, do you really believe that brat Goff's nonsense? Let me tell you, no one knows Atlas better than me."

None of these troublemakers are honest, especially that bastard Mordred. Even Perturabo has been corrupted by him. Only my Sagittarius can put my mind at ease.

Therefore, the knight absolutely cannot make any mistakes; I must personally teach him.

Looking at the Emperor, who was beaming with pride and using the ring in his hand to prove himself, even Valdor, who had seen enough, thought to himself that His Majesty was about to start again and he had to hold back.

Sure enough, along with a set of passionate chants. "30 years, 30 years, first time back, first time back, Gold Ring, Sagittarius, Sagittarius, I love my baby, my baby loves me."

Valdor could only grit his teeth, try his best to clear his mind, and use his unparalleled willpower to keep his facial muscles taut, while still managing to exclaim in praise:

"I say Your His Majesty's insight is brilliant!"

The First Legion truly lives up to its reputation as a favored force; Mordred was drooling with envy just from its vanguard alone, as almost all the good stuff could be found within the Dark Angels.

In just three days, the city, which was originally filled with dilapidation and barbarity, was completely transformed. Even the ground was repaved with concrete, and its infrastructure construction speed was on par with that of the Fourth Legion.

As more and more Dark Angels arrive in Caliban, Mordred, who follows Zhuang Sen around, always feels like he's just a lackey, and what's even more ridiculous is that you can't argue with that.

The Dark Angels are powerful, not only powerful, but also all-around capable. You can find the shadow of any legion here, or you could say that the template for all legions is based on the Dark Angels.

You can even see specialized mechanics among them, capable of replacing the special forces of the Adeptus Mechanicus, only now they have been reorganized by Zhuang Sen into the Ironwing.

Watching the adopted son and brothers of the Knights of Caliban of Dark Angels, Luther complained to the tall giant sitting on the steps beside him:

"See? Ever since I adopted Lion, this is how he's gradually taken control of the Knights, and this so-called legion will follow suit. What an Ambition fellow."

Don't you have any thoughts?

"What ideas? I'm overjoyed. Isn't it nice to have a tall guy to shoulder the burden? I've already talked to my best buddy, we'll just nominate him as the Warmaster from now on, and I'll just sit back and count the money." Mordred, who was browsing the Dataslate, didn't even turn his head, his mouth stretched from ear to ear, his eyes filled with satisfaction.

In gratitude to Atlas for helping them find the Primarch, the wealthy First Legion gifted Mordred a planet, cleverly choosing one very close to Serenity.

Even after learning that Atlas could craft high-level Enchanted Weapon, they placed an order, knowing that as long as they could avoid the risk of going berserk, they would have plenty of supplies and money.

This was exactly the pace Mordred had always dreamed of. Atlas had taken the most crucial step towards becoming Galactic Mega-corporation; what did Ambition anymore?

"Luther, after all you've said, you still agreed to the Space Marine modifications, right? How about I go find Zhuang Sen and get you to come to Atlas?"

"No!" Without any hesitation, Luther refused on the spot, saying things like Lion was young and naive, that she had to watch over him, and so on, among other incomprehensible things.

"Stop, stop, stop! I've had enough of this already. Don't drag me into your family dramas. Why does everyone have their own Centaur Ring? It's so nagging. It's a good thing my Old Man died young, or I'd be a mess."

Perhaps having heard Mordred's complaint, a ruthless hand descended from the sky, grabbing him by the back of the neck and lifting him up.

"Father, Father, Father! I was talking about Thomas! You can't hit me in front of so many people, okay? Have some respect for me!"

Mordred himself found these words disgusting, but somehow the Emperor didn't actually make a move. Instead, he forced out a chilling smile, picked Mordred up, and brought her to the Dark Angels, who was already kneeling on one knee.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, the Emperor first delivered a set of template lines that every Primarch has, maximizing his Charm Aura and drawing cheers from countless people. Even the Lion King forgot about the beating he had received earlier and instead saw it as his father's way of spurring him on.

Mordred, being held in someone's hand like a pendant, felt extremely uncomfortable, enduring the gazes of hundreds of thousands of people, and dared not move, remaining in a cross-legged, suspended position.

After a two-and-a-half-hour speech, the Emperor, still brimming with enthusiasm, finally remembered the pendant in his hand. He abruptly changed his tone and, in front of everyone, said:

"The Second Legion deserves immense credit for this expedition, especially considering that even after the fleet suffered such heavy damage, my Second Son Mordred, still thought of repairing the ships for the Expeditionary Force. Therefore..."

Suddenly hearing snoring, the Emperor quickly shook his arm, waking the drowsy Mordred, and shouted:

"Therefore, I hereby bestow upon Mordred Wayne the title of Warmaster!"

"What? I'm Warmaster?"

These words were a wake-up call. Mordred, suddenly burdened with such a heavy label, was in agony. He absolutely didn't want to be Warmaster! And:

"Zhuang Sen, let me explain!"