Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 384 We have a life-or-death bond.

War is all about logistics, and logistics, in turn, requires the advance of war.

No soldier doesn't want ample ammunition, and no general doesn't want abundant supplies. When resources are scarce, tactical maneuvers are employed; when resources are plentiful, firepower is used for coverage.

In this dark galaxy, only powerful ships and cannons can protect the peace of a region.

With Guilliman regaining his human form, the Lion King was finally freed from those damned political affairs, and then he found himself doing more and more work.

"Shut up, Zhuang Sen. You're having a blast shooting down planes on the front lines, but tell me, where did all that ammunition come from? Who's going to repair the damaged equipment? Who's going to govern the world after it's been reclaimed? Who's going to do the subsequent development?"

"Then didn't you reclaim the Tranquil 50 World?"

"..."

Mordred didn't want to say anything anymore; he was too lazy to talk or listen. But then he remembered the two sentences Mrs. Euton had said to him earlier, and finally explained:

"Brother, my dear brother! Reality isn't a game. Even if it were, you'd still need your farmers to mine and collect gas to build barracks before you can mass produce troops!"

I reset my stats, leveled up, and became a Star God, but I'm not Doraemon. If I were Doraemon, I wouldn't be a member of the Alien Cult.

If I pull out a Galaxy Destroyer Bomb, those four peddlers will all kneel down, the kobold will be my underling, the fat guy will be my cook, there's a birdman stewing in the pot, and that little slut Slaanesh will get out and serve me in bed. Even the weasel will have to kneel down and call me daddy.

"You can have anything in your dreams. You'd be better off spending that time organizing this report. Just wait two and a half years. After that, Atlas can begin full-scale supply operations."

"Sigh~ When will this unlucky period ever end? But then again, I remember you can also pull things out from behind your butt, do you have some good stuff hidden away?"

Upon hearing this, Guilliman and Sisyphus, who were transforming into human supercomputers, stopped what they were doing, their eyes flashing with a strange light as they stared intently at Mordred's buttocks.

Because of Mordred, a large number of literary works from the 21st century have been reproduced, and the gaming and entertainment industries are quite developed, unlike the rigid image of the Empire.

After all, people can't live without pursuits, and not everyone in the empire lives in dire straits. There are plenty of garden worlds for retirement, and some decent worlds for living.

Take the Space Marines as an example. Don't be fooled by their cool and tough exteriors; they are human too. They can shed tears when their comrades die and laugh heartily when they win.

Combat is not everything, just a process. For the long-lived Space Marines, they have plenty of time to pursue their hobbies, which has led to the formation of a kind of chapter culture.

Atlas's games, movies, novels, figurines, and even the universally loved "The She-Wolf of Rome" are quite popular.

Mordred, with his planetary-level brain, would certainly not let go of a classic book like Doraemon, which represents the purity and beauty of humanity. Moreover, he's not just a plagiarist; he's practically a one-to-one mold-level replica.

He doesn't just recreate things; he also sells merchandise, such as anime figurines, Space Marine chess pieces, and even Primarch Hall of Fame items, as well as limited-edition collaboration game skins, all of which are more expensive than the last.

Perhaps these Doraemon-like literary works were so wonderfully depicted that they were not banned during the period when the state religion was prevalent, and were even vigorously promoted.

The warp is not always a cesspool. Even the four peddlers have their positive side. Indiscriminate slaughter may please the kobolds, but fearless courage can also attract their attention. Malice breeds chaos, but sparks of hope are also part of the change.

This is why Atlas is so favored by the Four Gods. After all, the silly and the bad are the best, and the emotional power that Atlas emits is mostly positive. A demon can get super high after taking a breath of it.

Beautiful things never go out of style, even after thousands of years. The Primarchs had certainly seen these things, and Horus was even the chief artist.

Nobody knows how many little secrets Mordred has, but he definitely has some. Everyone's been curious about why Mordred can pull things out from behind his butt. Doraemon pulls things out from his stomach, Mordred pulls them out from behind his butt—it's like a four-dimensional anus and a four-dimensional pocket, so…

"Stop, don't tickle me, I'm ticklish. Take your hand out of my pocket and don't mess up my collection."

Mordred has a little-known weakness: he is extremely ticklish and has obsessive-compulsive disorder, requiring him to straighten his underwear even if it is askew.

Normally it's fine, I don't think about this when I'm fighting, but as soon as I relax, my body starts to go out of control.

Johnson grabbed Mordred's arm, Guilliman pressed down on his thigh, and Sisyphus scratched his belly while digging around, and they actually pulled out quite a lot of things.

"A fruit knife, motorcycle tires, lemons, half a bottle of wine we finished yesterday, a cyclone torpedo, and two cases of lighters. Why are there so many lighters? Wait, what's this?"

Sisyphus, who had already put half of his body inside, touched something hard. Although he couldn't see it, just by touching it, Sisyphus felt that it was very familiar, and he pulled it out with force.

Looking at the bright yellow, heavy armor, Sisyphus instantly remembered—wasn't this the centurion armor she always wore? She couldn't find it last time; it turned out you stole it.

"Mordred, you have to give me an explanation." "What explanation? I took it because nobody else wanted it. Whose fault is it if you can't watch your own things?"

Taking advantage of Sisyphus's momentary lapse in attention, Mordred shrunk his body and rolled off the ground with a vicious pounce, firmly protecting his dimensional pocket.

"Don't come any closer, or I'll lose it. You ignorant fools, this is called a dimensional pocket, not some four-dimensional chrysanthemum. And this isn't just any ordinary dimensional pocket; it's a special ability I gained when I ascended to godhood, connecting to my former divine kingdom."

"You still have a divine kingdom? Stop bragging. I remember you were a god for only five seconds back then. Show it to me."

Mordred, whose secrets had been exposed, had nothing to say. He hadn't lied; he also had the Demon Realm that the four peddlers possessed. However, the Demon Realm shattered after the self-destruction, and now he couldn't even touch it, so it could only be used as a warehouse.

However, to avoid awkwardness, Mordred changed the subject and asked, "Johnson, didn't you say there was news about Dorn? What about Dorn?"

"did not find!"

The Lion King's reply was so frank that everyone thought they had misheard, but to prove that he was not lying, he directly took out a file and handed it over.

"537.M35? That's 5000 years old. It would be strange if you could find it. Besides, it says that giant traces were discovered in Inwit, but do you even know where Inwit is?"

Guilliman's question was the same one that Johnson was facing. He had found a valuable file, and even the timeline matched after repeated comparisons. The only problem was where Inwitt was.
Unlike all other Primarchs, Dorne was not found by the Emperor, but rather he found the Emperor. The Fist of the Empire is also one of only two ship-based legions that do not recruit troops from their homeworld; the other is the World Eater.

But unlike the World Eater, Nukelia was destroyed by Angron himself, and later found himself a homeworld, which is now the Vigilant Star, a place where all sorts of monsters and demons gather.

This situation was unusual, but no one found it strange, since the Mountain Array was so large that it could easily be considered a small asteroid.

As the Grand Marshal of Terra, the Imperial Fist's main area of ​​operation is the Solar System, and it is the only legion that recruits soldiers from Holy Terra, consisting entirely of Terran descendants.

Adding to the later great rebellion, the First Beast War, and the Second Beast War, during which the Imperial Fist was the main force, suffered heavy casualties and even underwent the rapid conscription, completely changing the bloodline.

This has led to the Imperial Fist being jokingly referred to as the Imperial Fist, due to the seed mutation causing a phenomenon of pseudo-death and meningeal degeneration, resulting in a consistently high mortality rate and an extremely rapid rate of generational updates.

Especially after the Third War of the Beasts, when Dorne disappeared, the Imperial Fist was wiped out by the Orcs, leaving only a very few survivors.

As the only "true" Imperial Fist, Kurland did not disappoint. He directly initiated the Final High Power Protocol to recruit people and founded the Black Templar. He became the Imperial Lord Commander as a Space Marine, also known as a Warmaster.

Logically, this is normal; if the main team is destroyed, people are called in to rebuild, but it's unheard of for the main team to be reduced to just one person.

As for why it's said that only one person remained, it's because apart from Kurand who survived, there were no Imperial Fists among the survivors; they were all Atlas.

Perhaps sensing something, Delanku incorporated this group of Atlas, who had also suffered heavy casualties, into the Black Sanctuary and tasked them with protecting the last remaining genetic seeds.

This leads to a rather abstract phenomenon: the current Imperial Fist is not the true Imperial Fist, but rather the orthodox one on the Black Orc side.

Neither the Black Templars nor the Imperial Fist knew where their Primarch homeworld was, and not only did they not know, but the other Primarchs did not know either.

"So, Dorn has completely hidden his home planet? He doesn't want the Empire to know the location of his homeland."

“Yes!” Guilliman replied.

"Then why would he do that? It can't be because he's afraid someone will blow up his home planet, right? By the way, why are you guys looking at me like that?"

Johnson was quite annoyed by the stares of Guilliman and Mordred, but more importantly, he couldn't refute them. Since the Great Rebellion, he had carried out orbital bombardments on every Primarch homeworld that had rebelled or been forced to rebel.

But Zhuang Sen had no choice. At that time, the empire was full of rebels. The empire was in crisis and fighting amongst themselves. This was no ordinary rebellion. He had to take strong measures.

"So it's not that I don't want to look, the key is that I can't find it. If I had the exact coordinates, I could definitely drag Dorn over and let him eat shit with us."

"I know!"

"You know? When did you become so close to Dorn? No, you actually get along with Dorn?"

Mordred remained silent, only recalling the image of him watching Dorn frantically eat excrement in Magnus's Wonderland:

"There's no reason why, it's because we've been through thick and thin together!"

(End of this chapter)