Come Fight Your Father!

But asking him to abandon the faith he had upheld for centuries was far too difficult!

It would mean that all his past efforts, all his choices, even the meaning of his existence, had been completely denied.

Whenever he thought of Titus, who had been imprisoned because of his report, he could only numb himself by reciting the Codex over and over, telling himself, "That's what the Codex says..."

"Father! We were wrong! But we can't change!

We don't want to change, and we can't change!"

Landros fell to his knees, crying out his grievances to Guilliman like a lost child.

He wanted so badly to obey the command of his gene-father, but he could not do it!

The doctrines of the Codex had already been carved into his bones, becoming an instinct of his mind. He could not change!

"I understand."

Guilliman's voice remained gentle and patient. "The power of habit is immense, especially when it comes to the Codex I personally compiled.

I understand how harsh it is, and I understand even more clearly how it shapes and restrains people's thinking.

After such prolonged exposure, asking you to violate its code of conduct now truly is asking too much.

Not to mention that over the past several centuries, you must have hurt your battle-brothers because you upheld the Codex. You may even have indirectly caused fellow warriors to die or suffer injustice.

All that pressure and guilt has accumulated within you..."

He paused, his voice becoming deeper. "But in the end, none of this is your fault.

If anyone must be at fault, it can only be me."

Then his tone shifted, becoming resolute and powerful. "But mistakes must be corrected!

Even if it is a mistake I made, I must actively correct it and make up for my past failings!

That is the responsible attitude one should have when facing one's mistakes!"

These words were like warm sunlight, dispelling some of the gloom in Landros and the others' hearts. Their eyes reddened, and they nearly burst into tears.

Their primarch was simply too benevolent!

"So," Guilliman continued, "this deeply rooted habit must also be changed at its source.

Asking you to change on your own would be making things difficult for you.

So as your father, I have to lend a hand too, don't I?"

"Help? Father, how are you going to help us?" an officer could not help asking.

A more "kindly" smile appeared on Guilliman's face. "It is actually very simple.

You are unwilling to obey my orders because you have the Astartes Codex in your hearts.

But ultimately, the Imperium has one supreme rule: whoever has the bigger fists gets obeyed!"

He swept his gaze around the crowd and declared, "I'll give you an opportunity.

I won't fly, and I won't even wear armor. I'll fight you barehanded.

Anyone present who can touch me even once—

You do not have to hurt me. You only have to touch me.

I will allow him to keep following the Astartes Codex until he is willing to change!"

Landros and the others froze instantly.

Beat... beat up their gene-father?!

How could that possibly be acceptable?!

They hurriedly refused in alarm. "Father! We can't do that!"

But Guilliman waved it off without concern. "You can.

This does not count as beating me up, nor does it count as combat.

It is merely... hm, a special way for a father and his sons to 'bond.'

Come at me without fear!

My sons, Guilliman's sons, cannot be cowards!

Show your father all your combat techniques! Make me proud!"

"Gene-father!"

Landros and the others were moved to tears by this immense "grace" and their primarch's trust.

They looked at one another, then finally rose with determination, taking fighting stances as they shouted in unison at Guilliman:

"Father! We will give it our all!"

"Good! That is the spirit!" Guilliman nodded approvingly. "Go on!

As long as you can hit me once, you can continue holding fast to what you once held fast to!"

Yet though Landros and the others had shouted their slogans loudly, their limbs still trembled with nervousness.

They stood where they were, desperately regulating their breathing, not daring to make the first move.

Seeing them like this, Guilliman's lips curled into a somewhat wild smile.

"You are not coming?

Then I'm coming!"

The moment he finished speaking, he raised a hand and slapped the complex clasp on his chest—

Clank, clank, clang!

With a series of soft mechanical sounds, the powerful Fate Armor rapidly detached from his body and folded away.

In the end, he wore only a pair of specially made shorts, revealing a magnificent body that seemed sculpted from sacred marble.

Every muscle contained explosive power!

Under the sunlight, his body seemed to shine brilliantly!

Then his figure moved, vanishing from the spot like a ghost!

The next second!

"Your dad is coming!"

With a teasing roar, Guilliman's fist shot out like a cannonball.

It landed squarely on Landros's face, which was still frozen in shock!

Bang!

With a muffled thud, Landros did not even have time to react.

His entire body flew into the air as though struck by a battering ram, hurtling backward like a kite with its string cut.

He traced a long arc through the air, flying several hundred meters before crashing heavily into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust and losing consciousness on the spot.

The entire plaza instantly fell deathly silent.

All the watching Ultramarines involuntarily swallowed.

They stared in horror at their gene-father, who stood in the middle of the plaza like some primordial beast, clad only in shorts.

At that moment, Guilliman cracked his neck and clasped his hands together, his knuckles popping loudly.

Facing the dumbfounded, shivering "fine sons" before him, he flashed a mouthful of dazzling white teeth and announced with a "brilliant" smile:

"Good sons—"

"Daddy is coming!"

Seeing his sons tremble all over, on the verge of wetting themselves, Guilliman not only showed no sign of stopping, but became even more enthusiastic.

He deliberately flexed every muscle in his body and struck a powerful bodybuilding pose beneath the sunlight, resembling the son of Zeus from ancient Terran mythology.

His naked body stood over three meters tall, every muscle seemingly forged from steel and filled with the most primal sense of oppression.

Looking at his trembling descendants, he suddenly spoke in a scholarly tone. "Children, do you know that ancient Terra once had a sage named Confucius?

He once said—'The gentleman is not a vessel!'"

"Th-The gentleman is not a vessel? What does that mean, Father?"

Under such extreme pressure, a warrior almost instinctively asked while trembling.

Guilliman cast him an "approving" look and explained in a voice like a great bell:

"'The gentleman is not a vessel' means that a true gentleman disdains using weapons to kill his enemies!!

Only fists striking flesh can display a gentleman's strength!"