Chapter 34: The Emperor’s Decree: Primarchs Strictly Forbidden from Boarding Actions, and Tzeentch’s Insignificant Schemes

Malum precisely gauged the limit of Aaron’s evasive speed, then used his super-brain to determine the safety word:

"My lord, Aaron, the fish have been thrown around enough. If you keep going, they'll be mush, and they won't taste good."

Both men stopped simultaneously and looked over. Malum secretly rejoiced; as it turned out, "eating" was the safety word for the Emperor’s family! Once something from the future was exchanged back, he would transmit this precious intelligence home. In the future, whenever the Father and the Emperor argued again, this could be used to pacify them. Reflecting on this, he realized that the Primarchs’ poor relationship with the Emperor was mostly due to their lack of appetite, as they never had the time to sit down and eat or drink together to buffer the tension. Consequently, many scholars who studied Primarch history believed that Russ was the only one during the Great Crusade who had no ulterior motives. There were never even any official records of him questioning or interrogating the Emperor. It made one wonder if it was due to the food and drink of Fenris. The Ultramarines were also keen on investigating history and summarizing experiences, and they were familiar with these past events.

"Right, these fish are already in such a state. It’s fine, any worse and we’d only be able to make fish balls; at least now we can still keep their shape for grilling." Aaron felt a bit of pity for the food that had to endure such pain while half-dead. The father and son got busy, picking up the fish scattered everywhere while grumbling at each other. Malum, wearing a look of gratification, prepared the grill rack and the base of the pot. Meat could also be pan-fried and mixed with local vegetables. Having seen too many bizarre flesh-mixtures on that Forge World, which could still maintain mobility in such a chaotic state, Malum had a sudden whim: if flesh were blended to a certain degree, could it manifest some strange texture? Could this, perhaps, be somewhat Chaos-tainted? He had to be vigilant, he had to be vigilant; he could not be swayed. Many of those whimsical behaviors were actually the schemes of the Chaos Gods! However, if he kept the intention of serving the Emperor’s meal well, perhaps it would be fine.

Soon, the camp was filled with an appetizing fragrance. The three sat in a circle; Egypt’s wheat history was quite well-developed, so there were some flour-based foods to go along with the meal. Anda gulped down the fish meat, but no matter how fast he ate, he still chewed.

"Tomorrow they will make you go first, Aaron. Dodge the attacks and ambush his lower stance. It doesn't matter if you win or lose, as long as you force that guy to use his demonic power."

"At that moment, the enemy will fall into a brief 'lag,' as if stuck in the gap between two worlds, unable to escape."

"Then Malum will go up and finish him. I cannot act immediately; the psychic signature will be detected. There are bigger fish behind him; we cannot scare them off."

Malum respectfully acknowledged this, though he remained puzzled: "My lord, I still don't understand. Although you mentioned it before, the demonic corruption of today cannot compare to the state of forty thousand years from now. You heard about the catalytic civilization earlier, but why are they targeting humanity, which is such a weak civilization today?"

"Is it because the demons already know the situation of the future Human Empire?"

Anda wiped the grease from the corners of his mouth: "Those bastards have no concept of time. If you strike first, they will recognize you as an Astartes. So, Aaron has to take this beating."

"According to human history, as civilization continues normally, the myths and legends experienced all conform to a normal civilization's spontaneous beliefs, and have nothing to do with the Chaos Gods. I just need to ensure this."

Malum said respectfully: "So, you want to make yourself the god of many human beliefs first? This is completely different from your philosophy in the forty-first millennium."

Anda finally laughed again: "Haha! As expected of Guilliman’s progeny, you finally figured it out. I guide human civilization through the development of natural primitive beliefs, past that most dangerous period, and then into the era of humanism and technology."

"Plus, that Great Storm has not yet occurred, and the influence of Chaos on reality is limited, allowing human civilization to grow smoothly. In a sense, human civilization is also my child."

"That’s right, I am the god!"

Aaron, hearing this, felt that something was increasingly wrong and complained from the side: "It all sounds like noble goals, and it seems like I can't find fault with you, but humanity ending up with a father like you... I don't know how to evaluate that."

Anda actually took the initiative to wrap his arm around his son's shoulder and laughed heartily: "Hahahaha! If your mother had the intelligence of Guilliman’s progeny, she wouldn't have chosen to leave me. I am doing such a great thing."

"Hearing my goals from someone else’s mouth—this is the first time."

Aaron could not break free from his father’s arm, nor the smell of sweat on him: "So, to put it another way, Zeus is just one of your identities."

Anda said proudly: "Indeed. As for those cows, swans, little boys, and such, they were all made up by your mother back then. She was Hera at the time and insisted on causing me some trouble."

"Now, people still worship me, the King of the Gods! But they all think Hera is a jealous woman."

"The power of discourse is in the hands of the masses, and people generally hate Hera!"

Aaron’s brows furrowed tightly, scrunching together, as he felt the convictions in his heart wavering. That is, his mother might be just as bad as his father—oh, please, anything but that!

"Hoo—" Aaron exhaled deeply, starting to hypnotize himself. His mother must be a wonderful person; she had been so gentle with him as a child, and she only left the family because of his father.

"Rest now. Remember to wash the dishes. I will try to force out Erst's demonic power tomorrow."

Aaron stood up, splashed his face with clear water, and lay down in the tent. He knew he wouldn't be getting his recliner back; it had already taken the shape of his father. Malum was about to take the initiative to clean up the tableware, but was stopped by Anda:

"There are servants to handle that. You, come with me and tell me about the future war situation. I can't quite distinguish the sequence of those events; let me sort it out—"

"Before you set off, what was Guilliman’s next target? Still dealing with those bugs that only know how to eat, and incidentally resolving the objective of the Word Bearers' large-scale operation? Like how Magnus was stopped when he prepared to sacrifice a planet?"

Malum brought over a recliner, knelt on one knee beside the Emperor, and whispered: "My Majesty," it was time to change the form of address, "the campaign against the bugs is proceeding step-by-step. Although it is not very optimistic, 'not optimistic' is already considered a stable war situation."

"Chaos remains the primary enemy, especially those Chaos Undivided foes. Intelligence shows that the Primarch of the Word Bearers has been missing for a long time. Perhaps this operation is to allow their Primarch to descend into the real world."

"But I feel more that this is like helping Lorgar escape some kind of restraint; something is holding him back."

Anda picked at a strand of meat between his teeth with one hand while mumbling: "Too much information. So, Guilliman is going to have a fight with Lorgar, who has turned into that ghost-like state? God, do you not know what he turned into after his last fight with Fulgrim?"

"We must speed up the progress and make that necklace, otherwise I fear Guilliman will repeat the same mistakes. Pass on my decree: it is strictly forbidden for Primarchs to engage in boarding actions!"

Meanwhile, on the road ten miles outside the camp.

The procession of the Mad Crocodile, Erst, gradually appeared in sight. The man, sitting grandly on a palanquin built from the skull of a hippopotamus, rested his chin on one hand, posing in a ruthless manner.

"Lord Sekhmet, do I really have to sit inside a gutted hippo skull? There’s no support for my lower back; it’s really uncomfortable."

"Also, having to douse my body with the victim's blood every time I kill someone—cleaning up afterward is disgusting."

In his mind, the "deity," who had the blurred appearance of lion fur but looked like a lizard's mouth, scolded: "Do what I told you. The world will only fear the Mad Crocodile, Erst, not a sissy Erst. Just listen to my commands. Kill that marked, cursed person tomorrow, and I will grant you the reward you need."

Bylani, disguised as Sekhmet, was lying on a pile of manifested papyrus. The plan of the Great Schemer, Tzeentch, was truly baffling—letting a sissy disguise himself as a follower of that big dog, just to kill a psychic of the monkey race. And he even had to lay out the trap in advance to lure the person over. Was it really necessary to attach so much importance to this? He had glanced at the person once; there was nothing worth caring about. He figured it was just a bunch of nobodies.