Guilliman: Damn Second Brother Mordred, you're going too far! (3K)

"This is the last time! You said you would never lie to me."

"I would never lie to you. I'm your father. How could a father harm you? With Malcador on the side, the three of us are invincible. I can't live without you!"

If I lied to you, may I be beaten into a spinal cord injury and become a vegetable.

The Golden Giant stood up and grabbed Mordred's shoulder, forcing out two tears with his supreme Psychic Power. He grinned foolishly, revealing his large teeth, leaving the Adeptus Custodes dumbfounded. They wondered if this was still their His Majesty, how could he be so shameless?

"To prove my sincerity, aren't you worried about the difficulty of expanding your legion? I can give you the technology of the Blood Reservoir. How about that? Are you relieved now?"

Even if Mordred could resist the Yellow Skins's charm, he couldn't withstand this smooth combo. After all, he was the loneliest person in the world, and only the Emperor could be considered a half-friend.

"Hmph~ Now you know how to offer benefits? Don't try that on me, just admit you were wrong!"

Now that things have come to this point, even if the Emperor is unwilling to admit it, he can only appease Mordred, who is of paramount importance.

Otherwise, if those Four Useless Ones take the opportunity to poach his employees, wouldn't he be at a loss?

[If I could have built the Webway properly, things wouldn't be like this!]

This is the highest level of emotional intelligence I've displayed since the Golden Giant tricked Eldar; my brain is working at lightning speed.

I had to coax and cajole him, saying all sorts of nice things, before I could get my credit points renewed with Mordred.

What no one knew was that this scene was witnessed by Koz.

These two nagging old men are actually my My Father and brother! Sigh, what a waste of their Kiya!

Hurriedly leaving this awful place that he found utterly repulsive, Koz and his companions began to recognize each other, saying he wanted to remember everyone's name. He was determined to memorize every single one of them; a total of forty thousand Night Lords would keep him busy enough.

Taking advantage of the spare time, the Emperor indeed kept his promise and gave Mordred a copy of the Blood Reservoir technology.

With this, Atlas no longer needs to steal other people's Gene-Seed; he can produce them entirely on his own. The only problem is that he needs original blood.

Unlike tomato juice that sprays out for a long time after a single slash, ordinary blood can also be used to create Gene-Seed. However, the quantity of these seeds is limited, and the time and resources required to create one are completely disproportionate to the yield. They are generally used to replenish the base population of one's own army.

Mordred's Spartan Warriors program produced troops quickly, but their quality was far inferior to that of regular Canned One. Not only did they lack Gene-Seed that could inherit experience and knowledge, but their physical attributes were also only half that of Space Marine, and their lifespans were short.

After the field acceleration test, Spartan Warriors could only live up to a thousand years old, and their physical strength began to decline at eight hundred years old, entering the aging stage.

In other legions, even with a low adaptation rate, it's impossible for every recruit selected and modified to die. But Atlas is like buying a lottery ticket; it's extremely strict about recruits, and it's random. Even Mordred can't figure out the pattern; it's all about luck.

In the era of the Great Crusade, where Space Marines was used as a major expense, the death of entire Killed in Action was all too common. Without a normal personnel replenishment mechanism, the legions would only dwindle in number as the war went on.

To date, Atlas's Space Marine number only about four thousand, having been completely overtaken by the Son of the Emperor, making it the smallest of the Primarch Legions.

On the contrary, the Spartan Warriors broke through the 100,000 mark and became Atlas's true main force. Often, one Atlas would command four Spartan to form a five-man Kill Teams.

Looking at the now-replicated Blood Reservoir (blank), which was floating up and down in the Stasis Field, the two burly men on the Emperor's Dream looked at each other.

Therefore, after figuring out a unique technique that uses other Legion Gene-Seed as a culture medium and consumes Fel Energy Spirit Stone as nutrients,

While Atlas's seed compatibility rate is still not as high as other legions, it is now acceptable.

The only constraint is the Gene-Seed, which must come from another legion. As for Fel Energy Spirit Stone, the Warp doesn't have many others.

There are just an off-the-charts number of Daemon.

"Old Man Huang, you must have left behind a stockpile of other Primarchs' original blood. Hurry up and share some with me. This thing is already built, and you're not giving me the raw materials. Are you playing cybernetic stunts with me?"

"No, there are only two Blood Reservoir, one here and one in Luna. Where am I supposed to get Primal Blood for you?"

The Emperor wasn't lying this time. After all, you can't lie about this stuff. The Primarch was just fully developed when that crazy woman, Eldar, threw it away. Being able to get a backup means that his tens of thousands of years of research haven't been in vain.

The two people in white lab coats slurped up noodles, ignoring all laboratory aseptic techniques, and devoured their food.

They even pulled the Adeptus Custodes came to deliver the food along with them.

"Second Son, I need to remind you, the extraction of the original blood involves scraping a fragment from the Primarch. Be careful when you extract it, don't bald him, you need to give the weapon time to recover."

Upon hearing the Emperor refer to the Primarch as a weapon again, Mordred knew that this scoundrel was incorrigible. If he had put even a little of the effort he had into Horus, he wouldn't have ended up being abandoned by everyone.

"I know, I know, I'm not going to make someone bald, are I? You should think about yourself. You haven't even been to see Koz since he got back. I really don't know how you became a biological father. That Adeptus Custodes, am I right?"

"Ah, His Majesty must have his own reasons. We cannot presume to know." The Adeptus Custodes, who can become Ultimate Being, are no ordinary people. Their emotional intelligence far surpasses that of the useless Emperor. It's just a pity that they are also a bunch of dog-like boys.

Sometimes Mordred wondered if there was something tainted in the genes of the Yellow Skins, otherwise it would be impossible to explain why the Primarchs, the Adeptus Custodes, and the Space Marine were all so incredibly shrewish and obsequious.

Mordred opened his elemental bottle, and with a flash of Emerald Lightning, three metal goblets appeared, filled with orange juice he had personally brewed using Daemon.

Because Atlasian were small, they were all extremely cowardly on the battlefield in order to save their own lives. They would ambush rather than fight head-on, and wear heavy armor rather than go into battle lightly armed. They were all a group of patients with insufficient firepower.

To improve their survivability and prevent their Spartan underlings from dying, each Atlas brews a sweet drink called Orange Juice, using it to rapidly replenish their life force. The only drawback is that it leaves behind a residue of Fel Energy.

And Mordred, who resides above Atlas, goes without saying. His orange juice with pulp has the most authentic flavor and the highest concentration. A single sip from it could kill an ordinary person, turning them Fel Energy a fel beast and driving them into a frenzy.

Tons, tons, tons

As the orange juice with pulp was poured into their bellies, a warm, bright yellow Faint Light shone on the three burly men, accompanied by a pleasant, trembling sound:

"Old Man Huang, I've always been curious about something: why do you always bring a group of Adeptus Custodes with you whenever you appear? After all, with your thick skin, how many people in the entire galaxy can actually kill you?"

"No matter how many Adeptus Custodes come to kill you, it won't make a difference; what's the point of them protecting you?"

The Emperor smiled slightly. He had been waiting for this question for a long time, but unfortunately, no one had ever asked him. Now, the day had finally come.

"It's precisely because they're useless that their value is revealed. Don't you think that makes me cool and awesome!"

"Ah?"

The Adeptus Custodes were shocked because their His Majesty had called them useless, while Mordred was shocked because he found the statement quite reasonable.

"Old Man Huang, you're a fucking genius! I suspect your IQ is at least equal to ten thousand Ogryn, no doubt about it!"

"You flatter me, you flatter me. After all, I'm your father. I've eaten more breasts than you've seen salt, at least worth twenty thousand heads." The Golden Giant couldn't suppress his smirk; his back teeth were almost showing as he continued to act arrogant.

"Think about it, if I go out and break into a gang and no one mentions my name, how can that highlight my greatness? After all, not everyone is as cool and domineering as me."

More importantly, the more I press "waaaagh," the stronger I become. Otherwise, how could I contend with those Four Useless Ones fools? I figure this is a necessary price to pay.

He snatched Mordred's Elemental Flask, Emperor it, poured three more glasses, and then, quite stingily, held the bottle in his own hand, tilting his head back to gulp them down.

After a few more glasses of orange juice, the Golden Giant, already quite drunk, started speaking with Orks accent, spewing out holy profanities, and even revealing that he had once gone to a brothel in Commorragh with the Aeldari Farseer.

In the end, even Mordred got drunk and said that the three of them had to have a good time today. He took the two of them to their own ship, headed straight for the bathhouse, and also brought Koz along.

"How wonderful! How wonderful! Look at this Koz, he's such a loser!"

Seeing the bat cub being force-fed orange juice by the Emperor and already rolling its eyes, Mordred immediately pulled back the Adeptus Custodes beside her.

He asked:

"Hey bro, I'm in a good mood today, so my good brother Koz is paying for everything. What's your name again?"

No one would choose to ask the name of a member of the Adeptus Custodes; it's a long and tedious name, but luckily this unfortunate Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes was also drunk, his mind clouded by Fel Energy, and he'd become a complete idiot.

"Your Highness, you can just call me Little Cat. Let me go, I can still drink!"

"Well done, the Khan, Tom, Rambo, where are you guys? Bring me some more orange juice."

The three drunkards made quite a commotion, attracting more and more Atlas to watch. Other legions would have stopped them, but the Atlas were not normal people and joined the feast.

As the Atlas collectively went mad, even the Night Lords were not spared, and they were all tricked into joining the Abomination in this grand spectacle.

The banquet lasted a week, consuming all of Atlas's stock of orange juice liqueur. In the end, unable to hold on any longer, Mordred found a corner and fell fast asleep.

Just before closing her eyes, Mordred felt like she had forgotten something, but then she thought that things she could forget probably weren't important, and she fell into a deep sleep.

Meanwhile, Guilliman, who had arrived at the tarmac for the second time, looked at the empty starport and raised his fist:

Mordred, you've gone too far!