Warhammer: I don't want to become a stinky can!

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When Pasteur looked up again, it was already late at night.

The child from Barbarossa was deeply moved and inspired.

A clear and definite path seemed to unfold before him, something he had never realized or thought about before.

It wasn't that serious feeling from the legion. It wasn't.

This book deeply moved Pasteur; a vibrant, ever-growing feeling emanated from its pages.

Pasteur stared at the last page, the large dog with its smiling tail wagging staring blankly.

Was Senior H originally one of your own people?

Such an outstanding and humorous person... is he a Death Guard? Pasteur remembered that most of the Death Guards he had met were silent and serious.

This must be a very remarkable person. Pasteur vowed that he must get to know that person, or at least say a few words to his idol.

Much later, after Pasteur's knowledge had reached an unparalleled level, he further supplemented the book. Pasteur opened the first page of the book and wrote the number 14 on it.

Although he is not good at speaking, he will try his best to get to know Senior H.

Dog senior, please wait for him.

"Ah!"

Who's talking about him? Hades silently wiped his nose and waved to the sage not to worry. By the way, do Space Marines sneeze too?

Hades was unaware that he had already racked up an incredible amount of merit and reputation on Mars.

Not today.

Good luck on the college entrance exam!

How does the new cover look? How does it compare to the original?

Chapter 223 All Can Talk

The fleet of the Crimson Forged World slowly entered the port. With the safe arrival of the first batch of guns and cannons, the curtain was about to rise on the second trial.

Today is the day Hades goes to inspect and take away the mortal auxiliary troops. They will continue their training, both on the use of vehicles and on administrative duties.

Hades sincerely hoped that Mortalian's training wouldn't turn these people into mute individuals, but Mortalian simply brushed it off indifferently, displaying an extremely confident attitude of "I can do it, you don't need to worry about it."

Hades was furious; if he weren't physically outmatched, he would have given Mortarian a good beating.

But before meeting the mortal auxiliary army, Hades knew he had to see one more person—

The short, bald, middle-aged man huddled tremblingly among the ranks of the mechanical sages. One of the crimson sages' limbs gripped the man's arm tightly, as if the man was about to run away at any moment.

"Lord Hades, we have brought the person you requested."

The sage bowed deeply, and the man beside him quickly followed suit, his obese body struggling to bend over, which looked rather comical.

Hades gave a smile.

“I’m sorry to trouble you, Sage. I would like to speak with Fowler alone for a while now.”

The sage's face glowed red, but he still bowed once more and left reluctantly.

"Oh, thank you, sir, thank you, sir. Those people were terrifying."

Fowler skillfully pulled a greasy handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his sweat, nodding as he did so.

"The mechanical sages do think differently from ordinary people. It must have been tough for you to get through this, Fowler."

Hades nodded. The reason he had called Fowler over was to further train those who were about to enter the administrative system. Fowler had been an administrator in the hive city. Although he seemed unreliable, there was no one more suitable than him at the moment.

In fact, this greasy, overweight middle-aged man is quite reliable. All the schools on the Star Ring are operating normally, and according to the gravedigger's investigation, nothing unreasonable has happened. It's clear that Fowler is taking it seriously.

Even with the war raging and requests to forge worlds piling up, Hades still regularly checks the reports on the Star Ring to ensure that the Death Guard's homeworld, Barbarus, doesn't cause any trouble.

The administrative staff currently supporting the Barbarus ring are still the same group directly deployed by the Emperor. They mainly focus on not interfering with minor matters and avoiding major ones. On Barbarus, a planet that doesn't cause much trouble, they have managed to govern it reasonably well.

The administration, primarily handled by the Death Guard, consists of the education, medical, and regulatory systems. One of these was established by Hades with his group of misfits, and the other by Mortalian with the original Death Guard medical personnel. The regulatory system is staffed by directly dispatched gravediggers.

As it turned out, the medical personnel who followed Mortarion in conquering Barbaros were quite reliable. After receiving the training from the oil enthusiast, the medical system functioned well and there was no shortage of personnel.

On the education front, things are better than Hades had initially envisioned. At least more people are now literate and can do arithmetic, although their physical fitness has improved much faster than their intelligence after being educated in schools.

Seeing Hades deep in thought, Fowler took out a handkerchief and wiped his sweat again.

"My lord, what brings you here today?"

"Training".

Hades said while deep in thought, then he stood up, “Come on, I’ll take you to see your batch of students. You need to teach them the most basic administrative skills.”

Seeing Hades get up, Fowler quickly followed.

"My lord, I do not have that ability."

"Then recommend one that is more suitable."

Fowler fell silent, realizing that the man seemed preoccupied, unaware that Hades was simply worried about the quality of Mortalian's teaching.

Fowler swore he didn't want to teach students like this. Emperor, he thought his life had been miserable enough before. He was almost broken by students running around in the corridor, and then those brats tried to poison him to test his tolerance. Fowler thought he had finally gotten over his suffering, but now he realized that hardship was endless.

The legion commander's speech continued. In the training hall, Hades and Fowler, who had arrived later, stood in an inconspicuous corner. Fowler looked at the serious-looking "students" with murderous expressions and fell into a state of existential doubt.

What kind of administrative staff have such murderous looks, like they're ready to die?!

Fowler could clearly sense the oppressive atmosphere emanating from Hades, but he still quietly hid behind Hades. The murderous aura was too solemn, and Fowler couldn't adapt to the atmosphere.

Hades looked at the crowd. "Very good. Qualified warriors. Serious and ready to die."

But no matter how you look at it, he doesn't seem like an administrative staff member.

Lower and middle-level administrative staff only need to keep records of forms, while higher-level administrative staff must possess keen insight and political acumen, as well as the shrewdness and shrewdness characteristic of administrative personnel.

This is why Hades called Fowler over; he was the person Hades could find who best possessed this ability.

But looking at this group of people who were so serious they seemed impossible to utter a sound, Hades felt utterly hopeless. Mortarion, thank you the hell.

Ignoring the two people radiating negative energy in the corner, Mortarian's speech on the high platform continued. After this, except for those selected again and those who passed the Space Marine surgery, no one else would be directly managed by Mortarian.

The dim armor reflected a faint arc of light. Mortarion did not light the incense burner, which made the body of the Lord of Death even clearer and larger. Opposite Mortarion stood the silent Galapa people.

"I'm glad I trained you. It reminded me of my time in Barbarossa. The training was tough, but people supported each other and looked forward to the future."

During previous training, the resilience of these people surprised Mortalian. The high-pressure environment of the past had shaped the Galapa people's unexpected endurance. They had a high degree of resistance and insensitivity to harsh environments. People who had crawled out of hell did not care about the filth of the human world.

“You, Galapa, have proven your resilience to me, therefore I declare that the gates of the Death Guard are open to you.”

"The Death Guard accepts your death as a contribution."

Mortarian remained silent. He stepped aside, signaling the servant carrying two cups of wine to come forward. The pungent liquid emitted a pungent, fishy stench. Hades, in the shadows, unconsciously frowned. It was another poisoned wine brewed by Mortarian himself. It was clear that the cup meant for mortals had been diluted.

Hades suspected that Mortarian wanted a drink himself, but Mortarian seemed to glance in his direction.

Just wait and see.

Suddenly, Mortarion's voice came through the private channel. Hades was confused and decided to see what Mortarion was up to.

“Now, one of you shall come forward and share the wine with me.”

"I, Mortarion, Lord of Death, Pale King, have made a pact with the Galapa people regarding death,"

"This is a highly poisonous liquid. Anyone who drinks it will likely die, but if they die, it means the contract has failed."

Mortarian stepped aside, patiently waiting for the hero. A commotion arose in the crowd. Mortarian saw that Sines hesitated, but a tall, strong man stepped forward before her and quickly strode onto the platform.

He had short brown hair, a scar running down his lip, and deep blue eyes like a wolf's.

Mortarian raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think you’re here to participate in the Space Marine selection.”

"Yes, sir, I am here to participate in the selection for the auxiliary army."

The man said, neither servile nor arrogant,

"Your name, or your number."

Mortarian picked up two glasses of wine and handed the smaller one to the man.

“They all call me Wood.”

“Very well, carpenter, now let’s make an oath.”

Mortarian removed his gas mask first, raised his glass, and drank it all in one gulp. The poison burned down the Primarch's esophagus, and the combination of the toxins and the highly concentrated liquor made Mortarian feel slightly dizzy.

“Please,” Mortarian hissed.

Wood took a deep breath, raised his glass with a death-defying resolve, and swallowed the bitter wine. Beads of sweat appeared on his skin, his blood throbbed, and the venom roared within him. He felt as if his internal organs were burning.

Everyone could see that Wood was not in a good state. The previously silent crowd became tense, which greatly weakened the serious atmosphere. Hades could hear the collective accelerated heartbeats of the crowd. Some people were trying to move forward to check on Wood, and Mortarian tacitly approved of their actions.

This group of people are the elite of Galaspa. Under Mortalian's deliberate guidance, they have developed a sense of honor and urgency in representing Galaspa.

If he were to fall, wouldn't these adults be unhappy with Galaspa?

Finally, Wood abruptly slammed down his glass, his breathing rapid and slightly unsteady as he stood on the stage. Numbed by the poisoned wine, he held up his empty glass to show the crowd—

he made it!

A huge cheer, applause, and whistles erupted from the crowd as people embraced and celebrated, instantly dispelling the oppressive atmosphere.

"Thank you, sir."

"This is the respect you Galapagos people have earned yourselves."

Mortarion patted Wood on the shoulder and gestured for the people below to help him down. The Primarch watched with interest as the people ran to welcome their hero. Mortarion, having drunk the poisoned wine, was exceptionally forgiving.

Wood stumbled and was jostled around by the crowd, then lifted up and walked around, while some little girls tried to engrave their names on bullet casings for Wood.

[It was agreed that they were all capable of speaking.]

Mortarian's voice rang out in the private channel, sounding rather boastful.

Listen to their cheers and applause, Hades; you can't say they can't speak.

How did you do it?

Motalian listened with satisfaction to the astonishment in Hades's words; he had won the match.

That's how it was done.

People who are constantly in high-pressure environments will adapt on their own.

After Galaspar, Mortalian revisited the social environment of the Barbarus ring and was surprised to find that the Barbarus people there were not as serious and silent as those in the Legion.

[During their free time, I set up something like a duel cage, and used some supplies captured from the nest on Galapagos as prizes.]

They simply grew naturally.

Hades opened his mouth,

[I never expected this, I really never expected it.]

There are many things you haven't considered.

Mortarian's mocking voice rang out.

They've passed my tests now, so go and choose the person with the best communication skills.

Mortalian calmly put on his breathing mask. In a good mood, the Primarch raised his scythe and tapped it on the ground a few times. The dull echo instantly reached everyone's ears, and the crowd quieted down.

"You have one hour of free time, then someone else will take over your duties."

"Your next instructor and selector—"

"Commander Hades, come here!"

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The National College Entrance Examination (Gaokao) is over! Congratulations! We wish every student the best of luck in achieving satisfactory results. Have a great holiday!

Chapter 224 We Need More Veterans

Galaspa's transformation and Deathguard training are progressing steadily.

Everyone received basic administrative training from Fowler. Fowler was quite concerned about education, probably because it was the first time he had been recognized and someone was willing to let him handle real affairs. Fowler was quite active, and despite being bombarded by students every day on the Barbarus Star Ring, he was still able to handle the high-intensity work.