You're Far Too Selfish!

This idea was so outrageous that even the Emperor, far away in Terra, noticed it.

A faint yet furious surge of Psionic Energy traveled across the galaxy.

That wasn't language, nor was it writing; it was a more primal and direct way of conveying emotions.

Shock, anger, and a complex emotion of "you unfilial son."

The fluctuations, carrying the chilling aura of the Throne Court of Terra and the distinctive hum of the Golden Throne in motion, traversed countless light-years and precisely struck Guilliman's consciousness.

In layman's terms, it would roughly mean: How dare you be so selfish.

Guilliman completely ignored it.

He didn't even frown; he simply raised his hand and gripped the hilt of the Emperor's Sword at his waist.

The gilded patterns on the armor gleamed with a cold light, as if responding to its master's fighting spirit.

The hilt of the sword felt cool yet familiar; this sword had witnessed too many of his resolves, too many vows, and too many things he had no choice but to do.

His fighting spirit surged, and he was ready to step into the Warp.

"Don't worry, starting today, if even one more lump of filthy excrement appears in his Nurgle's Garden, I'll consider him clean!"

Guilliman's voice carried a peculiar certainty, a resolute determination that came from having disregarded life and death, fighting only for one cause.

He took a step and was about to turn around.

The clanging of metal armor echoed through the divine realm, each step causing the obsidian ground to tremble slightly.

He was full of vigor and ambition, and he actually wanted to tear apart the barrier of the divine realm directly and plunge into the Chaos Warp to burn the Nurgle divine realm to the ground.

That imposing presence, that posture, that resolute determination to die for the cause—anyone who saw it couldn't help but exclaim, "A true warrior indeed!"

"Oh, no, no, no!"

Asuryan snapped out of her daze and quickly stepped forward to stop him.

His movements were so fast they almost left afterimages. Psionic Energy surged in his palm, transforming into a pale golden barrier that stood in front of Guilliman.

His tone was full of helpless amusement and exasperation.

"You child, can't you take a joke?"

He was merely testing the Primarch's resolve on a whim, never expecting Guilliman to take it so seriously, acting so quickly that Guilliman had no time to stop him.

But Guilliman's eyes were already red.

Those deep blue eyes were now bloodshot, and a near-mad obsession burned deep within their pupils.

The veins on his neck were slightly visible, a primal reaction of his body after his emotions had been suppressed to the limit.

His breathing became heavy and rapid, each exhale seeming as if he was suppressing some power about to erupt.

"Don't pull me."

His voice was deep and resolute, leaving no room for doubt.

"Only one of me and Nurgle can leave the Warp alive today."

He forcefully broke free from Asuryan's grasp, with such force that even the Eldar God King couldn't help but frown.

There was no joking in those eyes, no room for bargaining, only a pure, unadulterated glint in them.

"I'm going to take over the Webway technology, and I'm going to kill Nurgle! I said, I'm burning that Nurgle's Garden down today!"

The sound echoed throughout the divine realm, causing even the floating stardust to tremble slightly.

"Even Jesus couldn't stop him!"

A vein was throbbing faintly on Asuryan's forehead.

He looked at the stubborn, even obsessive, human Primarch before him, at those bloodshot eyes, at that "I'll really go and die if you don't agree" look, and for a moment he didn't know what to say.

The Eldar God-King, an existence who has lived for countless millennia, has witnessed countless races and countless personalities, but none like Guilliman.

It's clearly acting, yet they've acted so convincingly that they almost believe it themselves—that's truly a first.

He growled impatiently, "Isn't Jesus your father? What are you pretending to be so stubborn about!"

These words were like a bucket of cold water poured on Guilliman's burning fighting spirit.

But only for a moment.

The next second, Guilliman's gaze hardened even more. He even puffed out his chest, looking at Asuryan with an expression that said, "I don't understand what you're saying."

"Uncle, you've mistaken me for someone else. Jesus is Jesus, Emperor is the Emperor; they are two different people."

Asuryan: "..."

"And,"

Guilliman added, his voice brimming with self-righteousness, "Even if they are the same person, I'm talking about Nurgle now, what does that have to do with my dad?"

Uncle, you're changing the subject.

Asuryan took a deep breath.

He finally understood: Guilliman wasn't acting impulsively at all; he was clearly putting on a completely uninhibited performance for the sake of the Webway technology.

He portrayed the resoluteness and fervor to the extreme, even controlling the bloodshot in his eyes perfectly. His fearless demeanor made anyone who saw him believe that he was truly prepared to sacrifice himself.

If Asuryan hadn't lived long enough and seen enough drama queens, he might have actually been fooled.

"Don't worry, nephew, I'm your uncle, I won't lie to you."

Asuryan rubbed her temples, her tone full of helplessness.

His fingers tapped lightly on the obsidian floor, producing a crisp sound—a subtle gesture he made when he was thinking, one that Guilliman had long since figured out.

"If you help me accomplish this, I will definitely give you the Webway technology. There's no need to express such determination here."

How could he not see that Guilliman was acting so fiercely and passionately, practically wearing the words "I want Webway technology" on his face?

Guilliman suddenly stopped moving.

The pause was so precise, like being on a stopwatch, neither abrupt nor unexpected, yet it made Asuryan clearly realize: this guy was waiting for me to say that.

The next second.

The fighting spirit that had been surging around him receded like the tide, and his previous determination and frenzy vanished without a trace.

Those bloodshot eyes instantly regained their clarity, the veins on his neck subsided, and his breathing became steady and calm.

He instantly released the sword hilt, turned around, rubbed his hands together, and fawned over Asuryan.

Where is even a trace of the Imperial Regent's majesty?

He looked exactly like someone who had seen a treasure he longed for; the longing in his eyes was almost overflowing.

His appearance was exactly like a dog seeing a bone, eager and eager, Primarch from the decisive and ruthless Primarch just now.

"Uncle--"

Guilliman's voice was drawn out, with a deliberately ingratiating sweetness.

"Look at what you're saying, what's with all this talk about expressing determination? Do you think I'm that kind of person?"

I just wanted to help you out. I've disliked that old bastard, Nurgle, for a long time!

As he spoke, he leaned forward even further, almost pressing himself against Asuryan.

"However, since you mentioned Webway technology—"

The speed at which he rubbed his hands increased.

"Why don't you take it out first, so I can see it for myself?"

Those deep blue eyes shone like two stars, filled with a yearning for "Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me."

Asuryan fell silent.

Looking at Guilliman's undisguised fawning smile and his dark hair and blue eyes, he inexplicably saw in him the shadow of the notoriously scoundrel Neoth.

They are equally adaptable and resilient.

They're equally shameless.

They are equally willing to set aside all pride for their goals.

The desire in his eyes was direct and intense, almost greedy, yet it carried a kind of openness that made it impossible to truly get angry.