It is undoubtedly ridiculous to build a great city in this place.

Here, the oxygen that can breathe is scarcer than the conscience in the void, and the low pressure brought by the high altitude is like a heavy armor, which is arrogantly piled on the thin shoulders of every pedestrian.

Add to that the bitter cold winds, the scorching ultraviolet rays, the shadowless thunderstorms, and the deadly temperature difference between day and night: if it weren't for the climate stabilizer at the top of the mountain and the nuclear power station at Yamane, this glorious city that has been emerging for less than a hundred years would have been beaten back to its original appearance.

Slaughtered mountain tops, bare rocks, silent ruins, eternal wastelands, this is the truth of the region called the Himalayas, for thousands of years: until the Emperor's banner was raised from its peaks.

Using this unoccupied ruin as his starting point, it took only a few generations for the Emperor to unify the entire Holy Terra, reuniting the homeland of humanity as a force, from a miniature settlement of thousands to a vast empire of billions of people, and the Terra eventually learned to treat the self-proclaimed Lord of Mankind with admiration, fanaticism, and blind obedience.

And when the Emperor had finished his first work, he returned to the Himalayan mountains, and to everyone's surprise set up it as the seat of his new empire, as well as the original domes and minarets: only a handful of brave men dared to figure out why the all-powerful man had chosen to rule his kingdom here, while many more had learned absolute obedience.

Thus, the greatest palace in the history of mankind was built on the entire Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, and it was not until a few decades later that the wave of the Great Expedition had swept the entire galaxy, but this behemoth was still in its infancy: its inner palace area had been built for the most part, while the outer palace area was still devouring countless workers and building materials, stretching its minions towards the entire northern hemisphere.

"It's more like a hive than a palace, a giant hive city, as some would describe him: an endless black hive of forbidden technology and underground passages deep into Terra's interior."

[So what is this area where we are now?] Branches on the outside of the hive? 】

"You mean this Lionsgate airport under our feet? Oh! It's so much more useful. ”

Riemanrus grinned, and he stroked the heavy glass in front of him, as if he could touch the gray sky farther through this layer of glass.

"The Lionsgate airport, with its cousins in the distance from our field of view, has many different roles: specifically, depending on the outside world."

"Good and bad?"

Conrad interjected, he was crouching in front of the glass wall, his pale face clinging to the combination of silica and various oxides, and from time to time he had to take a breath, and then wipe it with the back of his hand to make himself see more clearly: there is no doubt that the feeling of standing in the air thousands of meters high, looking down, comparing countless tall buildings and bustling crowds to grains of sand at his fingertips, fascinated a certain flying mammal.

"Of course there are good and bad."

As he spoke, the Fenris raised an eyebrow and glanced at his brother, and when he saw Conrad's round head bobbing back and forth under his claws, Riemann Ruth was silent for two seconds, but in the end he couldn't hold back.

I saw that the wolf king of Fenris stretched out his claws, grabbed the top of Conrad's head with lightning speed, and rubbed it a few times, until the long silky hair became a little messy, and the Midnight Ghost slapped his brother's palm with some annoyance, but the resistance was not very fierce.

It wasn't until Conrad's originally supple black hair had become a little out of shape under Riemanrus's nonsense that a silver-haired lady with a slightly dark complexion because of this used her cold gaze to deter the wolf king, who was still smiling, and leaned down to re-manage Conrad's hair.

And beside Morgan, there was a certain person who looked to the side weakly, humming softly the rough tone of the ice and snow world, thinking that he was the master of Fenris, who had nothing to do.

“……”

Directly behind everyone, Johnson narrowed his eyes slightly, revealing a disapproving gaze: although the Caliban did not say anything to denounce all this, he could not help but sigh in his heart.

Sure enough, compared to him Johnson, these brothers of his are too naïve: one or two, they don't understand the world at all, and they don't know how to maintain the majesty and image of being the heir of the emperor and the original gene.

Of course, no one noticed the lion king's belly, and no one cared: when Morgan leaned down and the black hair of the combber Midnight Ghost had been caught, Conrad simply sat on the ground and listened to Riemanrus continue to explain the airport.

"The so-called airports are essentially the passage between Terra and the outside world: at this time, they are the blood vessels that the Terra Palace can continue to expand, and in the future, they are the lifeline for the Palace and the huge city under our feet to continue to function."

"But ......"

Riemanrus's words suddenly changed, and the whole room became a little cold.

"If we look at it from another angle, in those more dangerous times, when we lose in the galaxy and the enemy army is already overwhelmed, Lions Gate Airport will also become some kind of mountain trail for the enemy to use, and then it will become a key traffic point for both sides to shed blood and sacrifice."

"Mountain trail ......"

Midnight Ghost chewed on the word.

"Yes, Mountain Path: The enemies who can hit the Holy Terra must have a huge Void Fleet, otherwise, they will definitely not be able to break through the layers of firepower and defenses on the outer side of the solar system, and when the war unfolds on the Holy Terra, it must mean that we have lost the right to control the universe and can only fight the final fierce battle on the ground."

"Therefore, if the ground battlefield is in a state of anxiety, the space elevator directly connected to low-earth orbit will definitely become an important town for attackers with air supremacy to launch surprise attacks, or garrison siege corps, especially since Lions Gate Airport is so close to the palace, its importance is almost self-evident."

When the Fenris spread out a hand and looked at the orbital defense platforms above the sky and the Terra Palace in the distance, and told Conrad about these military theories, the cynical smile on his face naturally faded, leaving only an awe-inspiring coldness and seriousness.

At this moment, Riemanrus no longer seemed to be wearing a rough armor and a fishy wolf hair shawl, but a straight military uniform, flickering in the turquoise pupils, no longer the wildness of the king of barbarians, but the ruthlessness and rationality of a famous general.

It's as if this man, this serious general, is the real Riemanrus.

"So, if Holy Terra is directly attacked by some powerful enemy......"

"It won't be like that! Riemannian! ”

Behind the Fenris, Johnson's voice sounded overly subdued, and he seemed to have endured it for a while: or, in other words, to be able to stand here and listen quietly to Riemanlus's blasphemous words about Terra's attack, in his character, was a gesture of brotherhood.

Therefore, when the Caliban could no longer bear it and chose to speak, his voice naturally did not pause in the slightest, and his tone did not show the slightest mercy.

Riemanrus could naturally hear it, and he spread his hands and was not angry.

"Johnson, I'm just giving you an example."

"There are no examples, and no ifs: as long as I breathe, no enemy will be able to set foot on Holy Terra, to walk to the land before the palace, to desecrate the Emperor's throne with their soldiers."

Johnson still held the ceremonial sword inlaid with rubies, as if it was really a divine blade that could dissipate iron like mud and cleanse the galaxy, his cold gaze swept over the three brothers in front of him, and there was a trace of weirdness in his pupils, honesty and recognition of his blood brothers.

"You, too, no enemy will ever be able to ascend to the land of Holy Terra until the blood of us and our legions is gone: if something like this happens, it will be a lifelong disgrace to all of us, and even the untold sacrifices and deaths that will not be erased."

The Lion King's words swept through the void along with his gaze, and when it landed, it turned into a relaxed, longing smile to ease with his recognized brothers.

"I'm sure we're not going to let this happen, are we?"

“……”

The answer to the smiling lion king was first an eerie silence, accompanied by the muffled conversation between Astarte and the mortals outside the door, and then the inexplicable expressions that bloomed on the faces of several genetic prototypes.

Riemannus grinned, patted Johnson on the shoulder, and spat out words of conciliation; Conrad, on the other hand, looked at his blonde brother with some strange eyes, as if he were looking at a strange gargoyle; As for Morgan, he didn't even raise his head at all, but just grabbed the time and continued to bow his head to sort out the messy hair of the Midnight Ghost.

All that was left in the ears of the Caliban lion was the whispers of Conrad and Riemanruth: the voice was so small that Johnson could hear it.

"Why did this guy suddenly become so weird?"

"Who knows, Johnson has always been like this, no one understands him."

“……”

"Tsk."

The Caliban's eyes narrowed, he clenched the blade at his waist, and while he lamented why this was just a ceremonial sword, he silently crushed the fleeting thought of "empathizing with his own blood brother" in his mind into crumbs.

An eerie depression began to envelop the lion, until the Lord of Avalon finally took care of Midnight Ghost's hair, looked up, glanced at her brothers, felt the winkling eyes of Riemanrus and Conrad, followed their guidance and call for help, glanced at the Caliban rain cloud, and sighed silently.

Straightened, walked up to some dull Caliban, raised his hand and patted him on the shoulder, then stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear.

[Rest assured: no one is going to let this happen, including me.] 】

“……”

"Of course I do."

The Caliban snorted, and the heavy low pressure vanished.

【……】

Morgan hooked the corners of her mouth, and she didn't say anything more, but stood beside Johnson, arms crossed, strands of hair swept over the Caliban's shoulderplates adorned with roaring lion heads, and some confused eyes focused on Johnson's stiff movements: since they reached Terra's orbit, Johnson had always held his sword in one hand and hung the other at his waist, and he had maintained this stiff posture almost all the way.

Johnson, you seem to be taking things too seriously, brother. 】

Johnson was noncommittal.

"Once landed, my chief knights and I will head to the end of the Gate of Eternity to attend the inauguration of the statue, which is a serious process, Morgan, from the moment I land in the airspace of Terra, I must demand myself with the etiquette of attending this ceremony."

【……】

Morgan blinked, she didn't say anything, but continued to maintain the same position as Johnson, standing, the two genetic prototypes were so silent, watching the Conrad and Riemanrus in front of them half talking, half fighting for the rest of the next period of time: after seeing Morgan go to calm Johnson who was depressed, the two imperial heirs, who had become very familiar with each other for some time, gathered together again and whispered, and soon fell into an unserious fight.

[I've never noticed that the relationship between Riemanruth and Conrad is actually so good? 】

"It just smells like that."

The Lion King snorted softly.

"What's more, it's really out of character for the two genetic primitives to mess around so much in public, this is Divine Terra, and our every move here represents the majesty of the emperor, and the majesty of the emperor is absolutely not to be lost."

[There are no outsiders here, Johnson, just the four of us. 】

"That's not going to work either."

【……】

[So, why didn't you stop the two of them? 】

Morgan smiled, her eyebrows curved, as if she had been fully immersed in the beautiful picture in front of her, but her attention was always on Johnson's side.

“……”

The Caliban was silent for a moment, and for a moment he seemed to really want to step forward and stop what was happening, but after another moment of deep thought, Johnson just grimaced and shook his head.

"Let them go, these two guys are going to get into trouble anyway, especially Riemanlus, he can't be idle: if he doesn't let him do this, he'll find something else."

"What's more, they don't listen to me either, if I stop it, I will only fight with the two of them, and there may be people outside who hear the voice, and at that time, the emperor's face will really be damaged."

【……】

[Then let them make such a fuss? 】

“……”

"I'm free, whatever you want."

Johnson closed his eyes, leaving only Morgan, who was still smiling, silently watching the brains of the two genetic protogens in front of them, this silence was quiet and precious, and lasted for a period of time that everyone wanted to cherish.

For a moment, when a ray of the sun barely tore through the clouds that had not dispersed for 10,000 years in the Terra dome and cast it onto the room high in the air, whether it was Riemanrus and Conrad, who were laughing and talking, or Morgan, who was standing behind them, smiling and watching all this, or Johnson, who was standing on the other side, although he was smiling and not smiling, he was not far away: when the four of them were illuminated by the sun, their shadows walked on the wall behind them, Silent change is constantly taking place.

First there were two large and united shadows, and then, the shadows of the wolf king and the midnight ghost, who were standing farther away, slowly cast onto the wall, gradually becoming stronger, standing side by side with the original two: until they were completely united in everything, like a sun that had chosen to cover its light, so united and inseparable.

【……】

After landing, are you and your heirs going to the Gate of Eternity? 】

"Yes."

What about Rous? 】

"He'll come with me to the Gates of Eternity, but he won't stay there for long, for there's a group of Praetorian soldiers waiting for him, and they'll guide him to some intimate space beneath the Palace of Terra: you know, Riemann and his men are escorting [that thing]."

【……】

[In the end, the emperor chose to imprison him rather than eliminate him completely.] 】

"We have no right to discuss the Emperor's orders."

Johnson's eyes were still closed, and his voice was sonorous.

"And what about you, Morgan, where are you and Conrad going after we land?"

[I don't have anything particularly important, I'll go and monitor the conscription first, and then, if I have enough time, I may go to your inauguration.] 】

"With Conrad?"

Aren't you welcome him? 】

“……”

"I really don't want that kid to appear on this occasion, but if he does participate, I will leave a place for him next to me, after all, he is also one of the heroes of the Randan War: just don't make trouble for me."

I'll watch him. 】

“……”

"As for you, Morgan, you have to come to this ceremony."

Johnson opened his eyes, and he looked down at his blood relative: in those emerald pupils from Caliban, there was a glint of seriousness and concentration that anyone could see.

Johnson seldom took it so seriously, he was telling a truth, about his loyalty to the emperor.

"You have to come: I won't let the ceremony start right away, I'll keep them waiting for you."

【……】

【Your Heirs......】

"They'll support my idea, and no one will object, not even Astrand: I've asked them about it, and every Knight Captain is very concerned about whether or not you're going to attend the ceremony."

【……】

[This is your First Legion's business, Johnson, after all. 】

"You're wrong Morgan: in this matter, there is no [you], only [us]."

Johnson blinked, and fire burned in his pupils.

"This is a medal that belongs to the First Legion, to the whole of the First Legion, then Morgan must be in it, then Morgan must be present: the First Legion is incomplete without you, and the First Legion cannot stand on the land of Terra as a pure victor without you."

"You are part of the First Army."

"So it was, and so it will be."

——————

"You're important to all of us: crucial."

“……”

"You are also very important to me."

“……”

"It's critical."

——————

“……”

"Have they arrived?"

The Regent of the Human Empire sat alone in the Great Hall of the Council, and in front of him was the huge archetypal debate table, nearly nine meters in diameter, large enough to easily accommodate an entire war council that ruled the galaxy with noise, profit, compromise, intelligence, and intrigue, or some other organization: everything was subject to the demands of the Lord of Humanity.

Even Machado had no power to change more: in the council hall, which symbolized the supreme power of the Human Empire, the only thing that could be changed at will by the Sealer was for his deputy to stand behind him and transcribe the proceedings of his and other councillors.

And now, as usual, there was a silent assistant with his head bowed, standing behind him, clutching the clipboard and pen, waiting for any word from Machado's mouth, and the assistant today was a little tall, and extremely taciturn, even his breathing seemed inaudible.

But when Machado asked, the deputy reacted immediately, calmly answering the palm print's question in a voice that was so mealistic that it was almost featureless.

"The four Primordial Lords, Johnson, Morgan, Riemanruth, and Conrad, are riding the Lionsgate to the Gate of Eternity in front of the palace, where they will be greeted by a team of 100 people consisting of the Praetorian Army and palace attendants, and the rest of the greeting activities are ready.

"Hmmm......"

Machado nodded, exhaling a heavy grunt from his nose.

"What about the other two primitives?"

"Those two arrived first, where are they at this time?"

"The two Primordial Lords are currently in the inner area of the Palace, and they are visiting the room where the Honourable St. Giles brought back the crystal artworks from Baal when His Excellency St. Giles first returned to Saint Terra, and for a short time, they seem to have no intention of leaving."

"It's okay: they're going to toss my old bones after all."

The palm seal holder stretched out a hand, caressing his forehead with his sigh, rubbing it slowly, the fingers of the imperial regent were no more different from any ordinary old man: slender and thin, with well-defined bones, fine veins clinging to the skin, exuding a deep green.

After a sigh, the momentary blank gaze of the Palm Seal returned to his composure and rationality, and he looked around the room that seemed empty at this time: first the huge round table of conferences, then the elaborately decorated petition pulpit on the central podium, and then in the corners of the room, the chairs used to house the low-ranking dignitaries, whose opinions may not be important, but whose most important instructions need to be listened to in order to be better carried out or conveyed downwards.

No one cares if there is a leak or anything like that: the people who can enter this supreme temple, even the attendants who simply stand in the corner and serve, are the smartest people in the galaxy, and they know what they should do.

It is said that this large hall is large enough to hold four fully armed Astarte companies, and since the beginning of the Great Expedition, Machado has spent at least ninety percent of his entire time in this hall: no one knows when he obtained the position of imperial regent, as if Machado had been the shadow of the emperor in the imperial political arena since the moment the emperor announced his hegemony in the mountains of the Himalayas.

Some hated him, some feared him, some worshipped him, some followed him, but no one dared to ignore the voice of the Palm Seal: even the Genogenites, who hunted for great deeds and legends among the stars, had to listen intently to Machado's whispers, for that might be their closest connection to the Emperor.

And such favors naturally attract countless jealousies and hostilities, and those powerful emperor's heirs are the biggest propagators of this hostility: many of them regard themselves not only as the emperor's generals, but also as their fathers, and Makado is in their eyes an outsider, or villain, who bewitches the emperor with evil words and brutally inserts between their father and son.

No one likes villains: just as no one really likes Rigoletto, and it is Machado's role in the Empire, and his status in the hands of the Emperor, that every exhausting night, when the meeting advances to the point of inconsequential, the Palm Sealer remembers the word in a vain fantasy.

Rigoletto: He is Rigoletto.

“……”

But now is not the time for him to let his imagination run wild.

After all, the current situation is a little more complicated than he expected: after many years, there are finally another heirs of the emperor, active on the Holy Terra, and there are six at a time.

These superhuman beings often lacked the rationality and wisdom to match their strength, and any one of them was enough to give the Palm Sealer a headache, let alone six of them in one breath now.

Six genetic prototypes: enough to tear down the palace beneath his feet.

……

No, there are more than six.

Machado blinked, his breath darting back, tapping at the taciturn narrator behind him.

"You're not moving in the galaxy, what are you doing back to Holy Terra?"

“……”

"Maybe it's just missing my nurturer, but it's okay to come back and take a look......

"Teacher."

With a chuckle of rhetorical questioning, the narrator, or rather Alfaris, took off his hood and bowed shallowly to Machado, while the palm print remained a cold observer, knowing that even he could not believe a word that Alphais said or moved.

Hydra will deceive anyone, not even himself.

The palm printmaker turned his head and stroked the round table.

"You've been to Avalon?"

"Yes, before going to settle Ran Dan and my troubled brother, I made a special trip to the land under Morgan: I must confess to you, teacher, that it is a promised land, and by and large the future that the emperor desires, and that this sister of mine is better than most of my brothers in governing the country."

"How is it compared to Killiman?"

“……”

Hydra was silent for a moment, then shook his head.

"It's not as good as that."

"As much as I hate Killiman, I still have to say that there is no better candidate than Killiman in the field of governing the country or ruling the entire sector, and Morgan may be better than other Primordials in this regard, but she is still weaker than Killiman."

"Killeman is unrivaled in the field of governing a world, or reuniting hundreds of planets into one, and Morgan's strength lies in some higher-end areas: beyond the concepts of five hundred worlds and the Far Eastern frontier, dispatching these huge forces from a grander perspective is what Morgan is better at."

"Her performance in the Zandan War and the subsequent war is clear and unmistakable: this sister of mine has almost single-handedly managed the logistics system of several legions, not only managing these materials in an orderly manner, but also taking into account the entire huge fleet at the same time, and smoothing out the possible contradictions between the various legions and fleets in advance."

Under her macro control, there was not even a single large-scale internal friction or internal friction in the entire expeditionary force: it was not until I accepted some of the relevant work that I realized how difficult it was to do this. ”

"She was born with a knack for grasping people's hearts: the emperor undoubtedly gave her this power."

“……”

Machado nodded, and he walked to the edge of the round table and poured himself a glass of water.

"You think highly of Morgan?"

"I have a good opinion of many of my brothers, Lord Machado."

“……”

The Palm Seal threw a cold look at the Hydra Lord.

"In what you told me earlier, you thought that Horus was spoiled by the Emperor, that Ryan was a megalomaniac, that Killiman was annoying, that Dorn was particularly disgusting, and that the other brothers did not receive much positive praise or praise from you: you had a pretty high opinion of Perturabo."

"Who knows."

Hydra spreads his hands.

"Moreover, people change, and so do your Excellency Machado and my brothers: Johnson, for example, gives me a markedly different feeling now than when I first met him."

“……”

"Is it good or bad?"

"In general, it's pretty good."

"That'll do."

Machado nodded, as if he was tasting some kind of elixir, and drank the water in the cup little by little.

"In the emperor's expectations, although Johnson is not the indispensable one, as long as he can be kept, any attempt and effort is worth doing: even if it is not for Johnson, for the dark angel, it must be done."

"I understand that."

Alfaris nodded.

"The Dark Angels deserve it: they've proven themselves, again."

Machado was noncommittal.

"So, let's move on to the Far Eastern Frontier: how does it feel to you?"

"It's like a shrinking empire, but it's more rational, calmer, and healthier."

Alpharis' voice was low, and he thought in silence for a moment before continuing.

"The Far East is hard to find out from any point of view, and Morgan's intellect is not as refined as that of Killiman, but she has her own unique intelligence, but the only problem with this is that Morgan's approach to governance may only apply to the Far East."

"How?"

"Very simply, according to my observations, a large reason why Morgan's kingdom is prosperous is because Morgan has limited his attention to the hundreds of core worlds in the Far Eastern Frontier, and many of her policies and governance methods have been implemented in good condition because of the size of the Far Eastern Frontier, which is not excessive, and if you look at the entire empire, then many of these policies and means are difficult to implement."

The Palm Printer nodded, he didn't look the slightest bit surprised.

"Expected, isn't it, and the same is true of the Five Hundred Worlds: if Killiman were to be put in my place, all he could do was barely hold on, after all, when the number accumulates to a certain limit, it can pale in the face of all pushes."

After saying this, the Palm Seal fell into deep thought, and the only remaining clear water in the cup that he watched in silence slowly coiled around his wine glass until the clear water formed a small whirlpool.

"What do you think should be the attitude towards the Far Eastern Frontier?"

"Militarytown."

Alfaris didn't hesitate.

"Guntown?"

"Yes, Militarytown: Avalon looks mighty under Morgan, but if you look around it, you'll see the problem, it's too dangerous, and Avalon's location isn't really too good."

"In the north of the Far Eastern Frontier, there are dangerous ghoul stars, in the east are extraterritorial darkness and enemies beyond the galaxy that may come at any time, and in the south there is a strange thing we don't know about the Damocles galaxy, and as for the maelstrom region in the west, although it is already in the pocket of the Empire, the chaos and piracy there have never been eradicated."

"Avalon, on the other hand, is at the heart of this land of wars, and its army is ready to deal with any of the above deadly threats at any time and place, dragging a large number of enemies in the Far East for the Empire, but it itself is undoubtedly suffering from the aggression and harassment of these powerful enemies at any time."

"Therefore, there is a fundamental difference between the Far Eastern Frontier and the Five Hundred Worlds: although both of them are on the edge of the Far Eastern Star Domain, extremely far away from Terra, they are in the king of distances that are basically not directly manageable, and they have huge size and prosperous national power, but in addition, their positions are completely opposite."

"The Five Hundred Worlds are just a mass of fertile soil huddled in a corner, its enemies are strong but not deadly, and the Far Eastern Frontier is a cooler that sits on a sea of dangerous explosives, and its collapse in either direction will threaten the overall security of the Empire."

"Let's take the Maelstrom region with the least impact as an example: if the Far Eastern Frontier can successfully suppress the Maelstrom region, then the Sun Star Field, where the Holy Terra is located, can form a huge lever with the Far Eastern Frontier and the Five Hundred Worlds, and based on this lever, the Human Empire's domination of the entire galaxy will have an exceptionally strong backing."

"On the other hand, if the Far Eastern frontier is in decline, then a chaotic maelstrom region, a chaotic galactic heart, can mess up the transportation system of the entire empire, making it difficult to connect the Sun Star Domain and the Far Eastern Star Domain."

"Therefore, for Holy Terra, the stability of Avalon is the greatest contribution it can make, and a stable Avalon can save at least five Astarte Legions for Holy Terra."

"Five?"

Makado frowned.

"And even more."

Alphares nodded.

"That's not an exaggeration, teacher."

"So, my personal suggestion is that if the Far Eastern Frontier is not problematic in itself, then Holy Terra would do well not dictate anything to it: since a stable Avalon can keep at least a fifth of the empire safe and stable, Terra should even give it some assistance if necessary to ensure that this continues."

“……”

"Heh......"

The Palm Seal Holder patiently listened to Alfaris's suggestion, then showed a bitter smile, he raised his glass and drank the water from the cup, then shook his head, and said to Alfaris in a tone like a sigh.

"Assistance?"

"I'm still worried about a lot of supplies, thanks to your father, I'm still wondering if I can communicate with your sisters to see if I can set up a special tax on the Far Eastern Frontier and try to spread it to the Five Hundred Worlds."

Alfaris nodded.

"The odds are low: Morgan is even more cunning than you think, and if you allow it, she's even a mess of the man, and it's a misfortune to be an opponent of her, and it's bad news to be a verbal opponent."

“……”

"Do you think I want to?"

Machado lowered his eyebrows, and shredded words came out of his mouth, as if cursing some golden handshaker and worrying about some of the tortures that followed.

"But I don't need to think about that yet, think about the two genetic prototypes, one of them is much more grumpy: do you know why they came here?"

"Guess what: it's for my dead brother?"

"yes......"

The fingers of the palm print holder gently stroked the lines on the glass.

"So, I suggested to the emperor at the time that he should have more daughters."

“……”

“……”

"I remember it was just your joke?"

“……”

“……”

"Is it a joke, teacher?"

“……”

"Of course...... It's just a joke. ”

(End of chapter)