Warhammer: Filial Piety Makes Power

Chapter 50 The Emperor: Yes, that's the feeling.
Mordred should be grateful that he was a Primarch; otherwise, with his heretical behavior that would be considered heretical by everyone, if he were ten thousand years from now, he would definitely be locked in a secret cave that no detector could find and that only the Inquisitors knew about, where he would endure ultimate humiliation every day.

"But what can I do? I am the Primarch!"

After a month of intense work, Mordred had brainwashed most of the Eldar administrators, and every day he would lead them in studying the two official textbooks, "The Atlas Codex" and "Imperial Truth".

Occasionally, he would airdrop his little cans onto the orbital plane, slaying aliens to cultivate his mind, and looting thoroughly before the arrival of the Ministry of State Affairs ships—a fulfilling life for a sophisticated young man!
As for those ordinary civilians, Master Mo, overworked and lazy, simply allocated a residential area for them inside the Abomination and left it to Kiaran, whom he had brainwashed, to manage.

As the saying goes, let heroes manage heroes, and good men manage good men. What problems could a group of ordinary people possibly cause?
His only requirement was obedience to management and regular, systematic education in Atlas's grace to cultivate the golden seedlings.

Indeed, Mordred ultimately decided to keep the golden tree. Sacrificing it directly would be too wasteful; it was better to sustainably exploit it and see if it could reproduce saplings.

At first, the pointed-eared group was very resistant to Atlas's management, fearing that they would be slaughtered by these savage gorillas. They had seen Space Marines slaughter their own people, especially those big green-skinned, black-hearted giants.

But they soon realized something was wrong. They hadn't been killed at all; instead, they were being fed and cared for. The only difference was that while working every day, they also had to learn Atlas's Grace Education.

Anyway, they can live anywhere. The Eldar civilians just want to get by. Their own leader doesn't say anything, so why should they stand out? This is much better than being pirates. They can just get by.

Mordred was very pleased with this; he liked this kind of life, which saved him the trouble of brainwashing people one by one, which was exhausting.

After all, Mordred's charm isn't completely invincible; it just increases the other person's favorability in their mind. Even Chiarand, who's a die-hard fan who's practically calling him "Dad," still has his own sense of self.

Anyway, the network technology will eventually fall into their hands, so Mordred is in no hurry. Atlas can easily support this small tribe of only 17 people.

He didn't want to become a scoundrel like the Emperor who only knew how to use seduction; he wanted to use both kindness and force to completely conquer these pointy-eared aliens.

Half a year passed in this way. Mordred spent her time building a father-daughter relationship with Chiaran while returning to Tranquility with her underlings, exploring the world along the way. They would soon be able to return to the Tranquility Sub-Sector.

What's even more amazing is that during these six months, Mordred treated Chiaran better than her own daughter. Even after the charm was removed, the Eldar girl didn't leave. Instead, she decided to stay and said that she would give Mordred a big gift when Tranquility arrived.

This amazing gift is undoubtedly Mordred's long-awaited Webgate, giving him even more energy to fight aliens.

Then, unsurprisingly, things went wrong.

"What? I've been excommunicated?"

Mordred, who was leading his team in a knife fight with the aliens on the ground, was completely dumbfounded. He immediately delegated command, stepped on the gas in his Stormbird, and hurriedly returned to his own lair.

As soon as he entered, Goff handed him a form that sent chills down Mordred's spine. The form revealed that within the past six months, a religious sect had secretly sprung up on their flagship, worshipping them.

These busy little sprouts claimed that Mordred was a holy son who descended to earth to save the Eldar, and that his true nature was a young Eldar deity raised by the Lord of Man. His current appearance was merely a disguise, and beneath the skin was a genuine Eldar.

And it's also very astringent!
The sound spread rapidly throughout the Eldar settlement as soon as it appeared. By the time Atlas realized something was wrong, it was too late. Meanwhile, Mordred was completely unaware and was still drawing her sword and hacking at each other below.

Of the 17 bean sprouts, 23 joined this so-called Advent of the Holy Son cult, and the rest were still human.

"Why are you only telling me now?" "But Father, I thought you made Chiaran do this! Besides, isn't it better to rule them through religion?"

Goff didn't understand why his Primarch was reacting so strongly. After the Eldar established their sect, they were not only easier to manage, but they also worked harder, which significantly improved the efficiency of the crew of the Abomination.

The only thing that displeased Goff was that the church referred to his father as the Son of God. If he were here, wouldn't it be wonderful to just call him the Father of God?

Mordred plopped down on the sofa, only then realizing the trouble he had caused. He knew the dangers of toxic faith; if it got too big, he would eventually be stuffed into a puff pastry.

The thought that he might be secretly instilled with faith made Mordred feel uneasy, as if something was irritating him.

"No way! Investigate him! Go and bring that so-called sect leader here right now. I want to see which bastard dares to slander me, damn it!"

As Atlas's most reliable cornerstone, Goff never disappointed, and quickly brought the church leader back.

When this so-called pope arrived at the bridge, Mordred was so angry she laughed. This sect leader was none other than Mordred's first Eldar underling.

"Kiaran! What are you doing? Haven't I been good enough to you? Why are you doing this to me!"

"Father, why are you like this? Doesn't my gift make you happy?"

After six months of contact, Chiarand had long lost the arrogance he had when they first met, and his eyes were now fixed on the blond giant in front of him. But Mordred didn't want any of those crappy cults; he only wanted the gate to the Net Path.

Grabbing the slender bean sprout that was devising its own strategy, Mordred summoned his offspring. He believed he had to make things clear to everyone, otherwise they would become a menace sooner or later.

Excluding the two company commanders who stayed at home, including Fricks and Kiaran, the 12 people sat in a row at the dining table, ready to listen to the Primarch's speech.

She had originally intended to write a long post, but seeing this setup gave Mordred a strange sense of déjà vu. Coupled with the gothic-style decorations around the bridge, she was worried she might end up with a cross hanging from her head.

"Kids, one of you has... Ugh! It still tastes the same."

"Alright, just remember one thing: we at Atlas don't practice religion or have sectarian groups. You have to believe in science, understand?"

The company commanders exchanged glances, wondering if their father had lost his mind today. Their family, who played with demons, had absolutely nothing to do with science.

Besides, Father, no human could do something like that—slicing a dog tank to pieces with a single sword strike. Just for that reason alone, they're on the side of that Eldar girl, Chillan!
"Father, tell me the truth, are you really a god?"

"Bang—" A powerful flying kick came, and Mordred sent Tom, that unfilial son, flying into the air, roaring:

"I'm not a god!"

(End of this chapter)