You Are a Primarch!?

For a long time, he learned from his father how to deal with various forces and handle various crises by observing and learning from him.

At that moment, it was like an icy torrent, instantly washing over Lucius's mind, which was almost frozen by fear.

He understood, he understood completely, that the current situation was ten thousand times more dangerous than he had imagined!

From now on, every word you say, every action you take, even the rhythm of your breathing, could determine whether you live or die!

He practically scrambled towards Guilliman's direction.

With a thud, he knelt heavily, his forehead pressed firmly against the cold ground, using all his strength to make his voice sound respectful and submissive:

"Your... esteemed Limitless Cultivator!"

Excuse me... excuse me... why have you suddenly arrived at Anvil -IV? Is it... is there some inadequacy on my father's part in receiving you?

Or... does the fleet need resupply? We will definitely cooperate fully!

He tried to steer the conversation toward official business and his father's network of relationships, which was his only remaining lifeline.

Guilliman, however, seemed not to hear his question, and his gaze did not even fall on him, but instead he looked at the audience with great interest.

With his arrival, and the invisible pressure brought by those silent, Ultramarines, most of whom were over 2.5 meters tall.

The two workers in the center of the field were frozen in fear, forgetting even to lower their fists.

They stared in horror at the group of "god-like" figures who had suddenly appeared in the stands.

"I just heard what your... 'friends' said,"

Guilliman finally spoke, his voice calm yet carrying an undeniable air of inquiry:

"Your name is Lucius, isn't it?"

He asked a seemingly insignificant question.

"Yes... yes, sir!"

Lucius quickly responded, as if grasping at a straw, immediately giving his full name and eagerly invoking his biggest backer:

"Lucius Anvil! My father... is the Planetary Governor of this planet, the governor of Anvil -IV!"

He... he was utterly loyal to the Imperium and governed it well..."

Guilliman waved his hand, interrupting his father's eager-to-praise eulogy.

He simply repeated in that deep, mellow voice, as if savoring poetry:

"Lucius ...ah, Lucius ...what a fine name."

Lucius was taken aback, a ridiculous hope flashing through his mind: Could it be that this lord appreciated his name?

He quickly bowed his head again. "Thank you... thank you for your praise, sir!"

"It's just a pity,"

Guilliman's voice suddenly turned cold, like the frigid winds of the Arctic sweeping through the Colosseum:

"Just hearing that name reminds me of my wretched brother, and that bastard under his command... also named Lucius."

He paused, as if recalling some extremely unpleasant past event, his voice filled with undisguised disgust:

"Just thinking about it makes me feel nauseous."

He uttered the last word, his gaze suddenly piercing Lucius like an icicle.

"Mortal."

This calm address made Lucius feel as if his soul had been gripped and twisted violently by an invisible giant hand!

He shuddered violently, feeling as if he had fallen into an ice cave. For a brief moment, he almost thought he was dead!

Extreme fear caused his entire body to tremble uncontrollably.

A warm, foul-smelling liquid trickled down his trouser leg, leaving a small, dark stain on the expensive carpet.

He was shaking like a leaf, almost collapsing to the ground.

"Rise up, mortals."

Guilliman's voice returned to its usual calm, even carrying a strange hint of "forgiveness":

Answer my question.

I have just issued orders to my legion, requiring all Ultramarines to maintain friendliness and respect towards Imperium civilians.

I can't just 'allow the magistrate to set fires while forbidding the common people to light lamps' and break the rules myself, right?"

Rules? Friendly to ordinary people?

Lucius's mind was in complete chaos, but his survival instinct was driving him forward.

He actually unleashed an unimaginable potential, trembling as he barely supported himself with his weak legs.

He stood up shakily in front of Guilliman, even though his knees were still trembling.

Guilliman leaned casually against the railing of the observation deck, his posture relaxed, as if he were admiring the scenery.

He casually pointed with his finger to the two stunned workers below:

"Then answer me. Why... could you make them fight like wild beasts in front of you?"

"Because... because..."

Lucius's mind raced, trying to find the most "reasonable" and "legitimate" explanation:

"Because I... I gave them money!"

Right!

They are my workers, and I... I paid them extra, it's... it's their voluntary performance! Voluntary!"

He attempted to portray the atrocities as a consensual transaction.

"Oh? You want to pay?"

The idea that one can boss others around after receiving money is a product of feudal slave-owning mentality.

Many Chinese capitalists in Old Terra shared this mindset.

Calling them capitalists actually lowers the bar for true capitalists; those guys were just a bunch of penniless feudal slave owners.

They think that by spending 3,000 yuan a month, they can buy their employees' lives, yet they expect you to provide labor and emotional value.

In Guilliman's eyes, such people were the worst of the worst, and their heads should be ripped off and used as footballs!

Guilliman raised an eyebrow, a half-smile playing on his lips.

"But I seem to remember hearing you say something else just now?"

He leaned forward slightly, his azure eyes fixed on Lucius, his tone still calm, yet carrying a penetrating insight that seemed to see through everything:

"I want to hear the truth. The kind of things you nobles often say in private."

I think I just heard a little bit, but I didn't make it out.

Could you... repeat that for me?

Lucius trembled even more violently, his teeth chattering.

Would he dare repeat those words?

In front of such an adult, whose mere gaze could terrify one?

But he dared not remain silent!

Under extreme fear and pressure, he almost cried out incoherently:

"I... I say they are lowly! I am noble! My ancestors... fought alongside the great Emperor to complete the Unification Wars!"

Our family has rendered meritorious service, sir!

The blood of heroes flows in my veins! The blood of heroes!

He seemed to grasp at the last straw, repeatedly emphasizing the "bloodline of meritorious officials," which was the greatest basis for his family's domineering behavior on this planet.