Warhammer: My Biological Father Emperor and My Demigod Brother

The market area had been marked out early on. An old man with a strange wooden structure was sleeping in front of a tent, in order to reserve a good spot in the market in advance.

I pray that during these few days of festivals, some foolish young noblemen will be attracted by my craft and receive some financial assistance.

Anliwen slept soundly, embracing his creation as he entered the eternal void.

A magnificent voice called to him: "Amway, I will bestow upon you supreme skill, and you must give me a life."

Inside Tzeentch's labyrinth, several demons responsible for inspecting incoming materials were checking the quality of these war machines, flying around and banging on them.

Vashtor, who always needed demons to make deals with him, was capable of putting most demon traders into debt.

Now, he has actually personally sent an envoy to seek the help of the ever-changing Lord.

"Black King is stuck in that position. I have to—no, you have to find a way to take him down. Otherwise, you'll never be one of us."

The voice of the Lord of Change always worried Vashtor, but he could not question the correctness of Tzeentch's plan!

This is indeed what he needs most.

After all, the current cold sun was simply unmanageable, and he was in a hurry to expel a large amount of energy and completely ascend to godhood.

But Black King just wouldn't get up from the toilet.

Chapter 48 The Chariot Race, but we have no horses, only donkeys.

Vashtor's consciousness resides in his messenger, an exquisite creation of demonic soul mixed with a doll of deep gold.

The doll floats beneath the brilliant, dreamlike starry sky, facing the drastically changed heavens.

At least this place isn't as disgusting as the other three. Vashtor is already thinking about how to manage his domain once he's fully promoted.

He wants to join the ranks of the chess players, and he has to push the person in front of him who's just occupying the spot and not doing anything useful off the table.

Vashtor's voice was composed of countless encrypted bytes, so there was no need to worry that Tzeentch wouldn't understand: "Our domains overlap, and we are equally cunning."

“It is wisdom,” Tzeentch corrected. “You would be disgusted to sign up an expensive debt for the devil, which is a means of coercion, while my wisdom will guide them to their end.”

Vashtor's doll lit up: "I have no intention of arguing with you. Even if we cooperate, we cannot send over a more powerful demon. Even the Dark Lord of the human era was beyond the power of demons to contend with."

An invisible force of cunning snatched a timeline from the brilliant starry sky:

"But there is a war that, although the outcome is largely decided, is still unfolding in the past."

Horus and the Emperor unveiled the Vengeance of the Souls, a war that became part of the Emperor's life.

“We only need to guide Horus to hit the Emperor, and we will severely damage him.”

“Look, here is Horus. And you, aren’t you also wondering if you’re worthy to be ranked with us? You weren’t able to participate in the plan for Horus back then. Now, you’ve joined in, becoming the fifth, or rather, the sixth, of the ancients. After all, we sometimes consider Him one of our own.”

Tzeentch's voice almost completely convinced Vashtor, whose greatest arrangement in Egypt was for Nicholas II, the Pharaoh, "the living Horus."

Vashtor, who had previously been unable to participate in Horus's corruption, now has the opportunity to intervene.

This is proof that Vashtor will be promoted in the future.

The Vashtor doll received a satisfactory answer, and the explosion dissipated amidst the pitiful demon's wails.

He will not leave any trace in Tzeentch's hands.

The Lord of Changes had finally changed from a lying position to a sitting position, and his arms—if that could be called that—were all entangled together.

"It's so funny. The same old latrine always needs some big stones or even gunpowder thrown in. That way, the person sitting on the toilet will get their buttocks smeared and will definitely jump up in disgust."

He is not ashamed that his parables are too filthy or base; He knows all the wisdom of the world!

As for whether or not he should really help Vashtor cut in line, Tzeentch thought about it seriously.

Never mind then. I'm just lusting after his body, and the part of those vicious techniques that overlaps with my own.

600 BC, Yunu, the city of the sun.

The next morning, Aaron got up early to cook a meal: a platter of local fruits and vegetables, and some juice he had squeezed himself.

There's no need to eat so much meat in the morning. Aaron mainly wanted to see if his father's breath would be less smelly when he ate vegetarian food.

I finally finished breakfast in peace and it's time to head out.

The fifth dog took the initiative to bite its own reins and came to Anda's side. It had been having too many good days lately, so going for a walk had become a way to relax.

Anda casually grabbed the reins and tossed them to Aaron:

“We’re going to be doing dangerous intelligence work, and you’re taking care of Lao Wu (the fifth one) with you—cough cough, you even gave it a title. You named it, so you’ll have to take care of it yourself.”

Aaron took the reins and sighed, "You only need to open your eyes; a golden light flashes in your gaze, and you'll know everything. Why bother searching for information?"

Anda didn't explain, but left with Marum, the two of them seemingly engaged in a strange role-playing game.

Or perhaps it was just the father's playful nature.

Aaron stroked the fifth dog's neck, led it out the door, and headed in another direction, towards the location of Yunu's carriage arena.

Humans have always had a competitive spirit.

From throwing things the farthest to running the fastest, there's always some kind of competition.

As the only faster tool that humans currently control, the horse-drawn carriage naturally became a form of competition.

At least no one would bring a donkey cart or oxcart to compete in speed.

Because the chances of injury are far greater than with running, and it also provides an excellent opportunity for people in peacetime to witness battlefield scenes.

Horse-drawn carriage racing is a standard feature in almost every major city.

This is popular in Macedonia, Rome, and Egypt.

Even Egypt, which was trying to stop the invasion of Greek mythology, would have readily accepted this, as it would also represent their god Ra, a movement dedicated to the supreme god.

There's also a reason why they can charge admission fees.

After all, not everyone enjoys watching theatrical performances, but there are certainly more people who enjoy horse-drawn carriage races.

Aaron led the fifth brother along the increasingly crowded road. There were many people around him with similar skin color, so they didn't attract much attention.

After all, caravans from the north would not miss the big city of Yunu, and it was inevitable that spies or even small groups of troops would infiltrate the area.

The Pharaoh naturally wanted to control this trade route, even at the cost of starting a war.

Aaron looked at the roadside stalls and market with great interest, feeling very happy. This was the first time in his life that he had faced such a scene of life all by himself.

Eunubite Thebes was far more prosperous.

A man wearing a hat tried to squeeze towards him, and Aaron looked wary. The last time he encountered a merchant wearing a hat who had come to him on his own initiative was when Aaron was a hat-wearing man.

This indirectly led to him selling his father.

Nothing good has come of this time.

“Jodwin of Sais, I belong to a caravan personally signed by Pharaoh Horus, so there is no need to worry.”

Qiao Dewen removed his hat in greeting and finally squeezed to Aaron's side.

"Whew, whew—there are so many people today. I'm sorry, I'm here to invite you to a competition."

"There's a single-horse chariot race today, just a warm-up, but we don't have enough people. Nobody likes watching the opening show; everyone's waiting for the four-horse chariots to come out. But someone's opened a betting market, and I've placed a wager. If we can't get enough people for the race, I'll lose money. So, regardless of the ranking, I'll give you twenty German copper coins, how about that?"

Then, Qiao Dewen's gaze shifted to the old donkey with its soft fur and radiant spirit that Aaron was leading.

As if witnessing a horrifying scene, his eyes widened, and he became incoherent:

"Wait, wait, this, this is a donkey! Even above the God of La, this is still a donkey! How can this be a donkey!"

Aaron wondered if these merchants were all idiots, and said:

"What is this if not a donkey?"

Qiao Dewen's bizarre behavior caused those around him to make way, giving the mad businessman room to run wild.

Qiao Dewen bit his hat, his eyes blazing with fury.

"Why are you taking such good care of a donkey! From a distance, it looks like a magnificent young horse, waiting to hone its skills through high-level competition."

"It turned out to be a donkey!"

The fifth brother stuck out his tongue and flicked it onto Qiao Dewen's hat, making a few gurgling sounds to express his dissatisfaction.

How dare they! Yet another human being has shown such disrespect to me!

Chapter 49 Fifth Brother, Let's Go! Five-year-old Chagatai

Aaron expressed deep skepticism about the intelligence of these businessmen.

He led his fifth son away, intending to take a detour, but his father said they shouldn't get too close to the idiot.

But he had only taken a few steps when Qiao Dewen, who looked like a madman, grabbed his arm:

"No, wait! If I'm that far away and mistake this donkey for a horse, then—the others in the audience might not be able to tell the difference!"

"Help me, I'll give you thirty debenones! That's enough to buy three donkeys."

Aaron hesitated, wondering if he should also earn some money for his family. Otherwise, the money he was spending now was either from his father or because of his father, and he didn't have much confidence when he spoke up.

Young people are most afraid of having the desire to prove themselves.

But Aaron remained wary, tugging at the fifth son's reins, and asked:

"Is this race risk-free? I just need to come in last place?"

After all, the fifth son was what Marum called "the Emperor's property," and he had grown attached to him over the past few days. He couldn't bear to see the fifth son break a leg or get a scratch.

Seeing Aaron relent, Qiao Dewen finally breathed a sigh of relief, released his arm, and said:

"Don't worry, you can just leisurely run at the very back. This isn't a formal carriage race anyway, it's just an appetizer."

"Oh, right, there's just one request I hope you can accept. Please rest assured, there won't be any damage."

Aaron asked curiously, "Any other requirements? Do I need to wear some kind of competition armor?"

Aaron was very interested in these. He only had a set of Roman soldier's clothing made by Marum, with the obvious military insignia removed.

Finally, there was the robe that Guilliman gave him, which he couldn't bear to wear.

If I could have a festival robe from a foreign culture that I've never seen before, it would be a way to gather some information for my mother in advance.

He vaguely remembered that before his mother left, she had planned to change the priest's robes at the temple.