Warhammer: Should I also sit on the Golden Throne?

0055 This needs to be addressed starting with prenatal education.

"That concludes today's lesson."

The star that hung in the clear sky above Macurag had risen to its zenith, illuminating the meticulously tended courtyard of Marcus Guilliman outside the narrow window. The star's mass amplified the veil of reality, causing those things hidden in the high heavens to recede.

This sense of stability slightly dispelled the nausea Zhou Yun felt from everything on Nutheria.

Every gladiatorial combat is a sacrifice offered to the bloodthirsty demons, and every gladiator is a offering on the altar. Their every victory and defeat, bloodshed and death, honor and humiliation nourishes those demons, allowing them to feast on one battle after another.

Besides the demons, those high-ranking riders, though seemingly human, are no different from them. They take pleasure in enslaving their own kind, wantonly modifying bodies and humiliating the weak. Those who have committed no wrongdoing suffer in the arena, while the guilty drink with the demons.

Zhou Yun felt disgusted and puzzled: what was the purpose of so many sacrifices?

There's also Angron's weakness. As a human, Angron's strength is undeniable. If he were to get serious, Zhou Yun might only last a minute or two before being defeated.

But as a Primarch, it's illogical that he could hold out for several minutes against Zhou Yun, a mere Level 10 H Psionicist.

There must be something wrong with him—but Zhou Yun couldn't do any examination right now, as he had been knocked out by Nuseria's divine anesthetic.

This time, Zhou Yun crossed the boundary and was able to use his biological psionic skills. Before being knocked unconscious, he did some testing on the anesthetic and found that... it was not an anesthetic at all.

It was some kind of swarm of nanomachines, and these nanomachines were actually drawing energy from the subspace to power themselves.

This so-called anesthetic is a technological creation that combines mechanics and subspace, but Zhou Yun couldn't figure out the specifics.

Another thing that caught Zhou Yun's attention was the faith he gained from the conjoined witches.

The power of that faith was extremely strong, far surpassing the faith that ordinary people provided to Zhou Yun—it seemed that the stronger a person's spiritual power, the stronger the faith they provided to Zhou Yun.

However, the power of faith provided by the conjoined witches was still far inferior to one of the powers Zhou Yun had obtained from Slaanesh's palace.

That faith directly boosted Zhou Yun's spiritual energy by 10%. Just how powerful was that individual?

Above a level 13 Δ psionicist... surely we can't really burn some Slaanesh archdeacon into Stockholm syndrome, can we?

As he thought about it, Zhou Yun said goodbye to Guilliman behind the mirror and walked out of the classroom.

What should we have for lunch? Tita said this morning she was going to make fried fish with butter... Zhou Yun thought to himself as he walked through the corridor.

"...Stop right there!" A furious shout rang out from behind Zhou Yun.

Quintus Guilliman gritted his teeth as he watched Zhou Yun walk past him, completely ignoring him.

Zhou Yun turned his head, slightly raised his eyelids to look at Quintus Guilliman, at this blond, strong man.

Zhou Yun's biochemical psychic abilities gave him a profound understanding of the human body. Quintus's body had clearly undergone rigorous training from a young age; every muscle was honed through countless trials, and the marks of training were evident in every movement. However, Zhou Yun could also sense the damage his body had sustained from excessive indulgence and alcohol...

Zhou Yun's precognitive spiritual power allows him to roughly judge whether a person is dangerous simply by sight.

Quintus is not as dangerous as Onomamus. That old gladiator's skills have reached a state of perfection, honed through countless battles, far surpassing Quintus's abilities.

Quintus was not even as dangerous as Kleist; the female gladiator was swift, fierce, and precise, and could decapitate Quintus in just a few moments.

This man is Marcus Guilliman's eldest son and heir, but why is he stopping me now?

"How is my brother? What did you teach him? How much has he learned?" Quintus asked Zhou Yun, looking down at him.

It was as if Zhou Yun were a slave in his household.

Why is he asking about these things...?

Zhou Yun sensed anxiety and resentment in his heart.

"I taught him a little math, and now he can prove that any even number greater than two can be written as the sum of two prime numbers."

Zhou Yun smiled and spoke to Quintus, his will beginning to gently permeate Quintus's mind.

The fact that a child could prove Goldbach's Conjecture is enough to leave most people stunned for a moment, and that stunned moment is the opportunity for Zhou Yun's will to infiltrate...

Wait a minute? Zhou Yun, who had just sensed Quintus's emotions, showed a slightly strange expression.

"...What is a lotus tree?" Quintus frowned, and Zhou Yun could sense his brain working at lightning speed. "What is a tree-planting cardboard box?"

At least he didn't ask what "two" meant.

Because he didn't understand what Zhou Yun was saying at all, Quintas's mind didn't reveal the slightest flaw.

Zhou Yun let out a deep breath. He found that Quintus's thinking was unexpectedly resilient. Excessive confidence, pride, and persistence layered over his thoughts, making it quite difficult to penetrate them.

The subspace is the dimension of will, and nothing is more powerful than belief itself. Quintus firmly believed that he was better than Zhou Yun and that Zhou Yun could not defeat him.

Zhou Yun could even sense that Quintus genuinely felt he was better than Robert Guilliman, believing that Robert had taken what he should have had... What did that mean?

This excessive confidence actually protected Quintus's thinking; he needed some time to unravel this layer of confidence.

"Explain yourself clearly," Quintus growled, staring at Zhou Yun without uttering a word.

Zhou Yun felt that this was an even more difficult task than teaching the Primarch. Judging from Quintus's condition, he would probably have to start tutoring him from prenatal education.

"Also, you must report all of his situations to me from now on, do you understand?" Quintas continued.

Zhou Yun glanced at the room deep in the courtyard. With the Primarch's hearing, he could hear everything that was happening there clearly.

However, Guilliman seems to intend to simply observe this scene.

So Zhou Yun decided to end the trouble in a simple way. He casually wove a minor psionic spell that could hypnotize and threw it into Quintus's mind.

However, it will take a little time, maybe a minute or two, to get past Quintus's overconfident thinking.

"Speak!" Quintus roared at the silent Zhou Yun, reaching out to grab him.

"Quentas, have you forgotten how much your father respects this Teacher Zhou Yun?" Just then, a panting voice sounded behind Zhou Yun.

A short man, or rather a dwarf, stood behind Zhou Yun. His already sparse blond hair was completely soaked with sweat, and his short legs were trembling slightly. He had obviously rushed over in a hurry.

He was the dwarf who had previously used binoculars to observe Zhou Yun from the tower.

"Tiberius, you dwarf, how dare you mention my father to me? You—" Quintas was even more enraged upon hearing the dwarf's words.

"I've already had the waiter call my father over," said the dwarf named Tiberius with a grin.

Quintas's expression froze instantly.

Just then, hurried footsteps sounded from the end of the corridor.

Marcus Guilliman strode in, followed by a man in his fifties with long, graying hair.

"You bastard!"

Marcus practically charged up to Quintus and slapped him across the face.

Then, with a thud, Quintas collapsed to the ground, his eyes tightly shut, and he fell silent.

"...Quintas?" Marcus Guilliman looked at Quintas lying on the ground, his tone slightly flustered. He didn't understand what Quintas was doing.

Quintas did not answer.

The air fell silent. Marcus Guilliman's anger abruptly ceased, and he stared blankly at his own slap.

He... he slapped Quintus unconscious? This...

The middle-aged man in his fifties, with long gray hair and a strong scent of perfume, squatted down and carefully observed Marcus.

"...She's asleep," the old man said, shaking his head.

"Young people are so healthy, they can fall asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow," Zhou Yun remarked softly from the side.