Alas, This Warmaster Has Been Terribly Harmed!

Warmaster, an ultimate title Second to none, above all others only to the Emperor, possessing supreme power.

To put it even more dramatically, when the Emperor dies, the Warmaster will be the next head of the empire, practically the Crown Prince of the 30k empire.

Especially when this title was bestowed upon a Primarch, everyone's gaze changed, particularly that of the Firstborn Son of the Emperor, Lion El'Jonson.

Mordred knew without a doubt why Zhuang Sen was looking at him like that, but he also knew one thing: that idiot Yellow Skins was messing with him again.

Everyone thought the Imperial Warmaster was a sweetheart, but only Mordred himself knew that it was a trap. He wasn't some soft, sweet cream puff who would eagerly wait to be filled.

Even if he shouldn't be afraid of being forced to drink, who knows how much he can withstand?

Moreover, at this stage of Atlas's rapid development, Mordred wants no one to see the Yellow Skins die. What am I supposed to do if this Dogs and Donkeys dies? Am I supposed to shoulder the burden?

"Old Man Huang, no! Your His Majesty, Father, considering how loyally I have served the Empire for so many years, this title of Warmaster must be enjoyed by a virtuous person. I am not worthy, I am without virtue!"

As you know, I left my hometown at a young age. Not only am I not very bright, but I'm also prone to extremes and like to create Blasphemous Artifact violate the Imperial Truth.

"Why don't we let Zhuang Sen come? As the saying goes, elders come first. He's the leader among us brothers, I recommend him as the Warmaster! Zhuang Sen can lead us all the way to Orion."

"No!"

With a loud shout, Lion El'Jonson stood there, refuting the order like a golden lion:

"Father is right, Mordred truly deserves the title of Warmaster. As the eldest son, if he doesn't even have this much spirit,..."

Then I am not worthy to be your elder brother.

Mordred, stop talking. As the saying goes, one shouldn't accept something for nothing. If I really want it, I'll prove myself with my own strength. I don't care at all, I don't care!"

"Good! As expected of our father, well done."

Zhuang Sen's remarks drew praise from everyone, not only clearing his name but also dispelling the fear and anxiety of some of the Dark Angels.

Anyway, the title of Warmaster is not static. Since the Great Crusade is not over yet, one day the Dark Angels will put the Lion King on the throne of Warmaster.

Looking at the group of Dark Angels, who seemed to be living a life of filial piety and had suddenly become inexplicably passionate, Mordred was so angry he just wanted to curse.

He really didn't want to be this damn Warmaster! He just wanted to coast along.

"How about that? Isn't Dad being good to you? I've even made you a Warmaster, so why don't you hurry up and fix my ship?"

"Screw you, you weasel, Yellow Skins, you screwed me over!"

He knew this Rebellious son wouldn't say anything nice, but the Emperor didn't care. In his eyes, only Horus was capable of taking on the Warmaster Position.

Being able to take on a great responsibility is one thing, but being able to win people's hearts is another. Horus's reputation is still not enough. Since that's the case, the Warmaster Position cannot be left vacant. It's not good to let anyone take the position. It's better to find a big scoundrel to fill the role.

Moreover, Mordred is just the right size; not only is he ruthless and cruel, but he's also lazy and irresponsible, making him perfect for being pushed to the front to discipline those disobedient fools, and incidentally, he can also be used to repair my ship.

I'm such a genius!

After all, the Emperor was a Perpetual had lived through human history. Although his emotional intelligence was terrible, he had Malcador as an external brain, so he could just read from a script without having to think at all.

And so, on the very day that the tenth Primarch the Imperium of Man returned, humanity gained a new Imperial Warmaster named Mordred. What a joyous occasion!

Countless reporters flocked to the scene, perfectly capturing this precious video that will go down in history.

Standing atop the high platform, the incomparably majestic Master of Mankind; the Dark Angels cheering and shouting in celebration of the Primarch's return; the Imperial Warmaster, his face solemn, as if contemplating the future of humanity, being held in the Emperor's hand.

People only want to see what they want to see. In the eyes of these reporters, the great Master of Mankind and the Imperial Warmaster were a loving father and son, and even under the camera's lens, their father-son affection was still evident.

Especially at this moment, the Emperor's powerful arm, which still refuses to relinquish his support for his second son, is truly magnificent, our His Majesty!

However, the truth was quite different. If the Emperor hadn't been holding him up, Mordred would have run away long ago, and thinking about the future of the Empire was a joke; his face was as black as the bottom of a pot.

With a silver laurel wreath placed on Mordred's head by the Emperor himself, the somewhat hasty coronation ceremony of the Warmaster finally came to an end.

Soon, this scene will be sent to all parts of the empire via the Astropath, allowing countless human citizens to witness this historic moment.

Meanwhile, the four nobles who were secretly watching from the other side of the Veil also expressed their sincere admiration and immediately began to encourage the other party, offering their support for the little toy they desired.

But while everyone else was satisfied, only Mordred, looking ashen-faced, approached his good friend:

"Zhuang Sen, let me explain. The title of Warmaster was not my wish. You have to believe me!"

"I believe you. We're brothers, How Could I not believe you? After all, I've only just returned to the Empire; I don't care about this Warmaster title!"

"Really?" Mordred had finally found a good brother who was neither stubborn nor mischievous, and who was on the same wavelength as him. He didn't want to have a conflict with Zhuang Sen, especially since the order payment hadn't been made yet.

"Really, I don't care!"

Looking at the Lion King, who kept emphasizing his point and whose eyes held nothing but envy, Mordred found it hard to believe. After a moment of eye contact, Zhuang Sen finally couldn't hold back anymore.

"Actually, I really want to be a Warmaster. I dream about it all the time, but I have neither the qualifications nor the military achievements. What can I do?"

"Sigh~ That's true, but don't worry, I won't be in this Warmaster Position for long. I'm just a target pushed up to draw fire. The day I'm gone, you'll--"

"So I can become Warmaster?"

Mordred shook his head, thinking to himself, "You bastard, are you hoping I die?"

"I think it's unlikely. You see, although the Empire is currently focusing on the Great Crusade, all sorts of small groups have emerged. Among them, the two most capable candidates for the Warmaster Position are Ferrus and Horus."

Horus was the First Returned Son, and before my return, each of my brothers was taken care of by Old Man Huang for a period of time before they went on expeditions for Horus.

Not to mention that all the resources of the empire are at his disposal. Legions without a brother in command are either under the Emperor or under Horus, and the rest are in the hands of Ferrus.

If you want to Warmaster Position, then you'll be competing with those two.

Oh, and Guilliman and Dorn could also get involved, but those two aren't popular—one's Ambition, and the other's got a way with words that could kill.

Don't be fooled by the Lion King's respectable knightly demeanor; it's all a facade. As a genuine barbarian, he's no saint either, capable of going head-to-head with Mord.

Soon, the two went from discussing the Campaign for Warmaster to the current state of the empire being divided into numerous factions. Regarding these treacherous individuals who obeyed orders but not orders and dared to make small moves, the two had only one thought in common: to kill them.

Zhuang Sen's plan was to find an opportunity to secretly eliminate them. Mordred, on the other hand, wanted to kill them and raid their home, much to the satisfaction of the Golden Giant who had been secretly eavesdropping.

As satisfied as he was, the Emperor's smile soon faded. Looking at the Manchu Han Imperial Feast made entirely of mushrooms on the table, even though the Dog-men chef's skills were superb, it was still mushrooms after all.

"What? You can't eat it, Yellow Skins? You're really not fit to be a ruler. You're complaining about such good food. You should know how many people are still starving. You're a born evil Harkon."

You want me to fix your ship? Fix my foot! I have no money, and even if you want my life, I won't give it to you!

Seeing that no one was around, the Golden Giant, now free from his social anxiety, displayed a surprisingly rich personality and shamelessly began promising benefits again.

"Mordred, I am your father! What's yours and mine? What's yours is mine, and what's mine is still mine! You are the Imperial Warmaster, you must serve me, the Master of Mankind!"

Of course, I'm not some heartless Rogal Dorn. I'm giving you a good job; if you do it well, the construction team's expenses will be nothing more than a drop in the ocean."

"What kind of job? Tell me!"

He knew this Rebellious son would ask such a question. Since he couldn't charm Mordred with Psychic Power, the Emperor had already figured out Mordred's personality traits in order to get this lazybones to work.

Actually, calling him the Emperor is a bit one-sided. It was Malcador who truly understood Mordred's personality. It was the Arch-Magos who taught the Golden Giant how to speak, word by word. Otherwise, given the Emperor's emotional intelligence, he would only have two options: escape or beating him up.

"Collect taxes!"

"Tax collection?"

Mordred was no longer sleepy. Her previously disgusted expression immediately changed 180 degrees, and she smiled more brightly than a flower.

"Rambo! Get out here right now! How can you let my dear father eat these leftovers? Make him a proper meal and a good cup of coffee while you're at it."

Mordred's opportunistic attitude was exactly as Malcador had predicted; he had to be lured with tangible benefits, otherwise, don't expect him to work.

"That's right, it's about collecting taxes, and not only that, you also need to help Malcador set up an intelligence agency to monitor the entire empire and become its eyes and ears."

I don't care how you implement it; you're bored to death anyway. Just collect this tax revenue without missing a single penny, and you can do whatever you want with it."

It's no wonder that the Five Great Sectors of the empire are all on Malcador's shoulders. In terms of recognizing and utilizing talent alone, he completely surpasses the Golden Giant. The Emperor is just a great general who conquers; he doesn't know anything about governing the empire.

Rather than letting Mordred idly Collusion with Chaos, raise Xenos, and conduct blasphemous research, it would be better to let him focus his energy on collecting taxes—a job that has always been promising; at least he's greedy enough.

Anyone who dares to play dirty tricks in this regard will be bitten to death by Mordred, that mad dog.

"So, do you still want to be a Warmaster?"

Upon hearing this, Mordred immediately flashed a fawning smile:

"Oh dear, you've really put me in a difficult position. Since things have come to this, I have no choice but to comply."

"Hahaha" x2

Meanwhile, far away in Holy Terra, the human nobles suddenly felt a tightness in their scalps and an itch in their heads, but this did not stop the lavish banquet from continuing. After all, the nobles are like iron, but the soldiers come and go, and the Imperium of Man is thriving!

"Then the music plays, then the dancing begins."