Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 23 The Atlas Codex

Mordred has no plan whatsoever. He's not some abstract genius like Tzeentch who's just bored and has nothing better to do than rack his brains all day. In the end, he just says everything is going according to plan. Wouldn't it be better for him to just farm peacefully?

The problem is that things are no longer stable.

The Emperor won't say much about conducting some biological experiments, or even researching alien technology. After all, other legions have their own little secrets, and as long as they don't expose them, at worst they'll get a beating.

But if one becomes tainted by chaos, then one is a traitor. Perhaps the emperor will appear behind him at any moment, staging a scene of ruthless patricide.

Just thinking about it made Mordred's neck itch; he certainly didn't want to be Louis XVI.

"Brian, you must not reveal a single word about what happened in this room, understand?"

"Understood! But does this confidentiality include the other brothers?"

Mordred wanted to be honest with his other offspring, but the fact that he, or rather the Second Legion, could also devour demons was too shocking. The slightest mistake could plunge the legion into utter ruin.

Receiving pay at the drill ground would be the least of his worries; there was a very high chance his account would be immediately cancelled. After much deliberation, Mordred shook his head.
"No, it's not time yet. I need more experiments to verify this hypothesis, and the fewer people who know about it during this period, the better."

Here's what I'll do: I'll give you the highest authority. Go and develop an organization. First, recruit those stable and reliable people. Once I've figured this out, I'll let you know. We'll talk about the others later.

As for the organization's name, let's call it the Black Knights. You'd better be careful with the selection of personnel. What you're holding in your hands isn't just a list of personnel, it's the heads of everyone in the legion.

From now on, the Black Knight will handle internal affairs, and Nine-Legends will handle external affairs. You and Jojo absolutely cannot have any problems.

JOJO? Brian quickly realized that this person was Company Commander Joseph of the Ninth Company, and immediately stood at attention and saluted:
"Hey ha, I've lived up to the Legion's expectations!"

Soon, the demon Hill and the entire secret room were sealed off. The two people, one big and one small, quickly left and returned to the bridge as if nothing had happened.

There were no warp-space disorientation incidents during the ship's return voyage, and no more unfortunate warp fellows like Hill got stuck in the glass. Everything was so wonderful!

However, Mordred knew that his own legion's little secrets were becoming increasingly abundant.

Fortunately, Mordred is a Primarch, and his offspring are extremely loyal to him, so he has plenty of time to deal with them one by one.

As for the task the Emperor gave him, we'll see. Heaven knows if the original spacecraft has even reached those planets yet, or where those planets are located at this point in time.

While Brian was forming the Black Knights, Mordred began compiling teaching materials, intending to carry out a thorough military reform of the Second Legion.

Thankfully, I had served in the military in my past life, and I like to discuss current affairs with my roommates at night. Otherwise, Mordred would definitely be at a loss.

After more than 30 days of gathering opinions from his descendants, visiting grassroots communities, and incorporating his own Mo family philosophy, he finally succeeded.

This comprehensive work, which includes explanations of the Legion promotion system, soldier welfare and benefits, standards for obtaining merit, ideological and spiritual development, Legion hellish jokes, insult techniques, imperial recipes, and fairy tales, has finally been published.

Upon its release, the Atlas Bible received unanimous praise from everyone.

The Space Marines saw this as an expression of paternal love, and the mortal auxiliary forces of Atlas received better treatment. Even the ordinary residents of the city of Tranquility received a clearly stated promotion path.

"Hahaha, could I really be a genius Oo?"

"But Your Highness, why don't you add some combat guidelines to it? I think your legions would definitely follow them strictly," the Great Sage, who was frantically working overtime at the printing press, asked.

Upon hearing this, everyone looked at the great sage from Mars with strange eyes. Although they didn't say anything, their eyes said it all.

Mordred, being the leader, had no reservations and directly retorted:
"My great sage, are you awake?"
Luckily I know your background, otherwise, based on what you said, I would really suspect that you were sent by some technical warlord to gain experience.

Let me say it again, this thing is just a set of guidelines, for reference only. Who knows what the future holds? Are we supposed to use this set of rules forever? Even if it's a joke, nobody reads it if it's not updated!

"Yes, yes, Great Sage, you are a researcher. You don't understand the unpredictable changes on the battlefield. These things depend on on-the-spot reactions. Surely no one would rely entirely on a rigid rulebook to fight. Wouldn't that make them a robot?"

"Hahaha"

Everyone present, whether Space Marines or mortal commanders, laughed inappropriately, filling the room with a joyful atmosphere.

Mordred wasn't some gay man; his main purpose in writing this book was to change the Legion's morale. He didn't want Atlas to become like the Salamanders, after all, Mordred thought Vulcan was a bit indecisive, nor did he want the Legion to become a bunch of executioners who treated human life like dirt. He just wanted normal people, and at least there shouldn't be any more of Tom's despicable acts of throwing people directly into Katachon.

But this incident also reminded Mordred that although sending ordinary people to Qatar was tantamount to sending them to their deaths, it was a good way to train troops, and he could send people to build a base there for development.

"Then who should we send?" A figure appeared in Mordred's mind.

"Go and call Rambo over."

Three days later, a lunar cruiser swept through near-Earth orbit around Katachon, ejecting several transport ships and landing on the only human colony on this dangerous planet.

As the airtight valve opened, several dog heads peeked out from the shadows. Looking at the group of red-turbaned hunks staring at him with strange eyes, Rambo commanded:

"Open the granaries and distribute the grain. Hurry up and come and unload the goods. We are going to build a training ground here. From now on, you will be under the command of the Second Army Corps."

Instead of taking immediate action, the Catachan people began pointing and whispering around the dog-man, with some even reaching out to pet Rambo's head.

"Little puppy, who do you think you are? You think you can make us work for you with just a word? Young man, don't be so arrogant!"

Kaka.

A burst of gunfire rang out as Atlas's Space Marines approached Dog and pointed their guns at the group of troublemakers.

Fortunately, Mordred's holy book had worked; in the past, the squad's commander would have already ordered the troops to open fire.

"So you mean you're not convinced? What? You want to have a match with me?"

“That’s right, the law of the jungle prevails, and the people of Qatar don’t welcome cowards.”

The speaker was a muscular woman nearly two meters tall, her eyes filled with contempt for Rambo. A chitinous claw hung on her chest, proof that she had hunted a young Katachon demon.

Already annoyed that the collar around his neck prevented him from peacefully fishing, Rambo was now being provoked, so he immediately accepted the challenge.

"I won't bully you. Pick any of us. If you win, I'll give you double the supplies. If you lose, get back to work."

"Is this true?"

"A dog's word is its bond!"

Halsey, the leader of the Catachan tribe, smiled, pleased that her plan had succeeded. Her original goal was to acquire more supplies, but she hadn't expected the big black dog to be so cooperative. She didn't want to make enemies with those Space Marines.

Halsey's gaze swept back and forth across the opposite side. She looked down on the auxiliary troops, and she couldn't beat the Space Marines. After thinking it over, Halsey pointed directly at the dogmen who seemed easy to bully.

“I choose…I choose you, and those seven sickly dogs over there, yes, all eight of you!”

"You're the one who let me choose. If you defeat one of our platoons, the entire settlement will obey you."

Clearly, Halsey was doing it on purpose; she was using her numbers to bully the few. But then Rambo said something that completely baffled her:

"I don't need a whole platoon, all of you come at me. It seems I underestimated you. I didn't expect you to challenge our Dogman Eight Heroes. Fine, today I will grant your wish!"

A faint crimson glow appeared on the dog-men's bodies. Although there were only eight dogs, Halsey felt a sense of oppression, as if he were surrounded by barking toads.

"It's an illusion. No matter how you look at it, the number of people in the duel is 400 to 8, which means 50 people are fighting one. The advantage is on my side."

"The Qatari people will never be slaves!"

"The spirit of tranquility protects us!"

"Waaaagh!!!"

(End of this chapter)