Warhammer: My buddy has too many secrets!

Two hearts pounded wildly in his chest, to the point of causing pain, and the Malakin Warband Commander couldn't help but gasp for breath.

Even as an Astartes, possessing willpower and control far exceeding that of ordinary people, he was still bewildered like an ordinary person when faced with this series of messages.

The brain temporarily shuts down its ability to think in order to alleviate the shock and emotion within.

Lancelot knew perfectly well why the chapter commander in front of him was acting this way.

Perhaps in the eyes of ordinary people, they are demigods, the angels of the God-King.

But in reality, the source of all their power, that gene seed, is something that the Primarch can mass-produce using only the blood in his own body.

Those offspring personally created by the God-Emperor are the true leaders of the legions. They are the war gods of this universe, great beings capable of stirring up the entire galactic situation.

And now, Lancelot says he will bring an emperor's son back to the world?! He will bring back Robert Guilliman, the Primarch of the Ultramarines?!

What an earth-shattering thing this is!

He knew the current state of the Primarch of the Thirteenth Legion. In ancient times, this Ultramarines Lord was severely injured while resisting the attack of the demons and was forced to enter a stasis field.

So, what makes Lancelot want to bring him back to the mortal world?

The thought flashed through the mind of the Malakin Warband Commander, and then his memory kept replaying what Lancelot had been holding.

An idea suddenly appeared in his mind, and the next moment his soul and every cell in his body trembled. Without any prompting, he understood what that thing was!

Could it be the Emperor's...?

No…it can’t be! How could there be Imperial blood still circulating outside? That must be the blood of the Primarch, right? Malakin thought to himself, trembling…

But regardless of the plan, only one thought remained in Malakin's mind: if it were true... then the Primarch's return would no longer be a possibility, but an inevitability!

"OMG!"

Malakin muttered to himself, and Lancelot, looking at the Chapter Master's face, nodded in satisfaction.

Having produced the real thing, he finally convinced the warband commander in front of him.

Actually, if I think about it carefully, I don't need to go directly to Terra to see the emperor on the golden toilet.

All you need to do is test his attitude, let him know that you have his original blood, tell him that you are going to resurrect the thirteenth prince, and see if he will help you.

It's a pity I don't have psychic abilities, otherwise I could just make a psychic call and ask what's going on...

With these thoughts running wild, the Malakin Warband Commander took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and as if making some kind of resolution, opened them again to extend a finger.

"Elder, my last question is, why don't you return to the Dark Angels?"

"Because the Dark Angels also have their own Primarch, and the First Legion's leader is also seriously injured and in a deep sleep."

Lancelot casually revealed another secret that made the Commander of the Malakin Chapter wish he could immediately brainwash him and make him forget it.

"Because there is only one of those items, and based on my judgment, it is currently the most reasonable thing to use it on the Ultra Warrior Lord... But once I return to the First Legion, there will be unnecessary arguments."

As Lancelot spoke, he felt as if he had made sense of his logic, and thus his confidence grew stronger:

"This is a matter of great importance, so the fewer people who know about it, the better. Commander of the Malakin Warband, I believe in the loyalty of the Weeping Ones, so I am informing you of this matter. But please remember, that thing may even attract the attention of the evil gods."

"Given the current situation, I must use special means to shield myself from the spying of the subspace. Therefore, neither the Imperial Guard nor the Emperor knows my current location. For security reasons, I need someone else I can trust to relay the message."

"Next, you need to erase the memory of what just happened. I have no intention of contacting those people from the State Church and the Inquisition. I need the Weeping Ones to help me contact the Imperial Guard, or to introduce me to a founding mother organization that can contact the Imperial Guard."

Lancelot looked at the leader of the Weeping Warriors in front of him and gently pounded his chest: "I understand. The Weeping Warriors had conflicts with the Ultramarines in the past. The Son of Guilliman, the Ascetic Legion, abandoned you and retreated alone in a battle, causing heavy losses to the Weeping Warriors."

"But I assure you, Guilliman, the leader of the Ultramarines, will personally give you an explanation."

Lancelot spoke these words, and upon hearing them, Commander Malakin, having no other reservations, took a deep breath and solemnly bowed to Lancelot, striking his chest in return.

"No need for that! Elder, the loyalty of the Lamenters is not something that requires the Primarch to explain because of a single misunderstanding. As the offspring of Sanjeres, we will not fail the blood of Sanjeres!"

Malakin said this, taking a deep breath, and understood a principle.

They are part of history.

The cursed offspring of Saint Geres, the Weepers, will have the privilege of participating in the great cause of the Primarch's resurrection, an achievement worthy of testament to their loyalty.

Loyalty needs no reward; loyalty itself is the reward!

"The Weeping Ones will contribute to this great cause, Elder. Although we cannot directly contact the Imperial Guard, I can try to make contact with the Holy Blood Angel Mother Order and the White Scars' fighting brothers."

Commander Malakin tried his best to calm himself down and think more rationally:

"By then, we should be able to contact the Imperial Guard. I will immediately have the think tank erase my memory of what just happened! To prevent any possibility of intelligence leaks!"

The Malakin Commander spoke so solemnly, and Lancelot smiled slightly, then patted the Eagle-type power armor beside him: "Then let's wait for good news, my combat brother. Please have the think tank come here to operate, within my domain."

As Lancelot spoke, Chapter Master Malakin nodded solemnly and then summoned the chapter's think tank brothers.

The think tank member was also bewildered by the sudden arrival of this batch of equipment in the armory. However, upon hearing that his commander had ordered him to erase all memories of the past five minutes and retain only one command—to help the elder beside him and contact the Terran Citadel at all costs—he was deeply moved.

"I swear in the name of Saint Geres!"

The warband commander solemnly swore an oath, and the warband's think tank, at that moment, also understood the seriousness of the matter. He accepted the order, and although he was extremely puzzled and curious, as a soldier, he immediately obeyed the order and began to erase his warband commander's memories.

When he began to operate, the think tank felt that the subspace around him was unusually special. Everything was extremely calm, as if it were under the absolute control of an entity. It seemed that any psionic operation he performed required the tacit approval of that entity.

This process was peculiar. The think tank felt that it was not actively helping the war leader erase his memory, but rather acting as a tool following a pre-set trajectory.

Lancelot watched quietly. He could feel the movements within his inviolable domain. He tacitly allowed those movements to pass through his inviolable domain. Lancelot carefully controlled it, like an eraser, gently wiping away the brief memory of taking out the Emperor's Blood.

Everything was under my control.

It's a psionic talent that I don't have yet. Otherwise, if I could control psionic energy, and within my inviolable domain, others couldn't cast spells while I could summon psionic lightning, that would be a complete game-changer.

Thinking this to himself, after everything was over, the Malakin warband commander looked at the equipment in front of him and was shocked once again.

The think tank, familiar with the process, quickly explained the reasons to the war group leader, which led to the leader swearing an oath again.

"I know the secrets you bear, Elder, but I swear in the name of Saint Geres that I will fulfill my mission at all costs!"

Thank you.

Lancelot returned the bow in return. The Legion's think tank stayed behind to inventory the supplies, Malakin still needed to explain to the chapter's master blacksmith, while Lancelot, after completing this series of lies and deceptions, returned to his room.

"call……"

Lancelot sighed.

Even Astartes are human beings and need rest, but the level of rest is different. When fighting, an Astartes may live in a space of only a few square meters, but when resting, there may be dozens of Mechanicus members serving the Astartes, who are specifically responsible for burning incense and bathing the power armor.

Lancelot was assigned this kind of configuration, but having just transmigrated, he was unwilling to remove his power armor. So he could only sit aside, holding his sword and meditating, constantly reviewing the entire conversation that had just taken place.

The conversation just now revolved around the resurrected progenitor, but Lancelot also noticed a few things in those words.

"Things that haven't happened yet can't be kept secret, and things given by the system can't be kept secret either."

"That makes perfect sense. After all, if the system's rewards could be kept secret, I would have already ascended to heaven with my left foot on my right..."

"Sigh, this Guardian System has really ruined me. Of all things to give, it had to be the blood of a yellow-skinned person... But when the sky falls, there's always a tall person to hold it up! Thirteenth Brother, the future of the Empire is entirely in your hands. Your Uncle Lancelot, as an ordinary person, has already done a great deal."

As Lancelot thought this, he glanced at the cherubim flying in the sky not far away. This thing... wasn't an angel from mythology. In essence, it looked like a baby with two mechanical wings! Just looking at it sent chills down his spine!

Even the Primarch found it hard to accept at first glance; this thing was a complete embodiment of ignorance.

I won't look...

Lancelot closed the iron gate and entered the private dormitory space, where he finally felt a long-lost sense of security.

As a reward for being a transmigrator, although I ended up in a cesspool universe, the spacetime anchor allowed me to travel to other worlds for seven days.

We're pretty safe now; all that's left is to wait.

While waiting, let yourself take a trip to other worlds first!