Before the words had even finished echoing, his massive hand shot out.
Clamping like iron pincers around the collar armor of the warrior who had asked the question, he lifted him effortlessly off the ground like an unruly kitten.
Leaning close to his son’s ear, he spoke in a low, “seductive” rumble:
“Well? Do you feel your father’s pure, ‘gentlemanly’ strength? As long as you abandon your stubborn reverence for the *Codex Astartes*, you too will one day become as powerful as I am—a true ‘gentleman’ who relies on no external tools!”
“I-Is that true… Father…?”
The warrior struggled futilely in midair, his voice carrying terror and a sliver of faint hope.
Guilliman gave him an incredibly “gentle” smile.
“Of course it is true! When has your father ever lied to you? But for now… sleep well! My son, you must get plenty of rest!”
With that, his other massive hand slammed down, forcefully driving the Ultramarine’s face—helmet and all—into the solid ground!
*Boom!*
With a dull crash, a distinct crater was smashed into the stone-paved floor, and the warrior blacked out instantly.
Guilliman casually tossed him aside and swept his gaze across the remaining Ultramarines once more.
Petrified by his look, some of them cried out in trembling voices, “Father! We are your own sons! Father!”
“Hahaha!”
“To beg for mercy, you’ve even resorted to calling me father?”
“Such willingness to do whatever it takes to survive… It is truly magnificent!”
Guilliman laughed heartily, clearly in high spirits.
“Exactly! If you can’t win, say something nice! There’s always a chance to try again! Speaking of which, I must quote another of Sage Confucius’s famous sayings: ‘Teach all without discrimination’!”
“‘Teach all without discrimination’? What does that mean, Father?” another soldier asked instinctively in his sheer panic.
The companions next to him turned pale instantly, scrambling away from him in fear of being dragged down.
Guilliman gave this “studious” warrior an extremely “kind” smile and patiently explained:
“‘Teach all without discrimination’ means: When I am teaching you how to be a proper man, I don’t care who you are!”
His voice suddenly turned fierce, booming like thunder:
“Even if you are my own son, I will beat you without exception!”
The moment the word “exception” left his mouth, his figure surged forward like a bolt of lightning, kicking the warrior squarely in the chest!
*Thud!*
The warrior flew backward as if hit by a heavy cannon.
He traced a long arc through the air, spinning a perfect 360 degrees several times before crashing heavily to the ground, knocked out cold.
The surrounding warriors were on the verge of a breakdown from terror, yet their feet seemed rooted to the spot.
Not a single one turned to run—fleeing before their gene-father was a shame they could not bear! Find the original chapter at g.com.
They would rather be beaten senseless by their father than act like cowards and disappoint him.
Taking all of this in, Guilliman did not grow angry.
Instead, his expression became even more satisfied.
“Excellent! Refusing to run even in the face of my raw might—very good, very good indeed! Truly worthy of my bloodline!”
He praised them loudly, his aura surging once more:
“As a reward, your father will show you his true combat capability today! I will let you properly experience the meaning of a father’s belated love!”
“Behold! The Fists of Mountainous Fatherly Love!!”
Guilliman delivered a massive punch straight into the face of a nearby Ultramarine, sending him flying.
Next, like a tiger among sheep, he threw punches left and right, his kicks whipping up fierce gales!
“The Palm of Infinite Care!”
“The Kick of High Expectations!”
…
He bellowed out the names of his self-styled, “affection-filled” techniques.
Every strike was precise and heavy, forcing every Ultramarine who had the “privilege” of tasting them to feel the weight of a father’s love delayed by ten thousand years.
It was too heavy!
This fatherly love was as heavy as a mountain, as solid as the earth, and as massive as a star!
In this manner, the father who had slumbered for ten thousand years used his most “simple and unadorned” methods.
With every punch and kick, he patiently “lulled” every “good son” who had strayed from the path into a peaceful, baby-like slumber.
Only when the hundreds of Ultramarines in the plaza were neatly laid out, sleeping with utmost “peacefulness,” did Guilliman finally stop, still wanting more.
He stood with hands on his hips, looking at the “fruits of his labor” scattered across the ground, a proud and gratified smile on his face:
“Not bad at all. Sleep well, eat well, and you’ll grow up big and tall.”
Standing to the side, Calgar’s face was contorted as if he were severely constipated, his heart filled with a whirlwind of emotions.
He looked at his father, whose style of conduct was vastly different from the legends, yet whose sheer strength was utterly captivating.
In the end, all of his emotions coalesced into an unspeakable reverence:
*Father is truly…
truly…
spectacular!*
***
A rich, familiar aroma flooded Leandros’s nose.
The scent triggered a distant memory, carrying him back to his days as a recruit.
In some quiet corner during a lull in battle, the veterans of his company had roasted meat from a strange captured creature for them greenhorns…
what was it called…
ant-bull?
At the same time, a series of heavy *thump, thump, thump* sounds echoed in his ears, like massive fists pounding against something tough.
He tiredly forced open his heavy eyelids, his blurry vision slowly clearing.
Then, he witnessed a scene he would never forget for the rest of his life:
His grand gene-father, Guilliman, was pinning down a struggling, three-meter-tall giant ant-bull with one knee.
The ant-bull was pinned to the ground as Guilliman’s fists, like jackhammers, relentlessly pounded the relatively fragile joints of its carapace.
Even more shocking was that “flames” were rising from beneath the ant-bull.
But those were no ordinary flames; instead, several plasma guns fixed to the ground were continuously spewing high-temperature jets!
The glow of the plasma cast an eerie, deep blue light over the surroundings.
Guilliman beat the ant-bull while forcing its bleeding, wounded flesh directly into the plasma stream to “roast” it!
When the extreme heat, capable of melting tank armor, came into contact with his bare skin, it failed to leave even a single red mark.
Instead, it was the ant-bull that shrieked in agonizing, inhuman wails as it was roasted.
“Oh, you’re awake?” Guilliman laughed, seemingly sensing his consciousness returning, without even turning his head.
“Since you’re awake, come on over. Perfect timing for a meal.”
When a child is throwing a tantrum and gets beaten, even if they retreat to their room in a huff, a father still has to call them out to eat!
This was the traditional parenting style of old Terra!
Right then, the ant-bull, driven into a corner, let out a final burst of strength fueled by survival instinct.
With a violent thrash, its hideous, pincer-like mandibles snapped viciously toward Guilliman’s unprotected neck!
However, its head was caught midair by a much faster, massive hand.
*Splat!*
With a sickening crunch, the ant-bull’s hard head burst in Guilliman’s palm like a crushed egg, spraying red and white matter everywhere.
Its body twitched violently a few times before going completely limp, and Guilliman casually tossed it back into the “plasma campfire.”