Chapter 1374: Third Anniversary Ceremony (3)

Guilliman flipped through the Data Pad.

"Father, on which date is the third anniversary ceremony of the Xiuluo Holy Star Alliance set?"

Yingzhou thought for a moment.

"This day next month. One month is enough time for preparations, and enough for those Alien representatives to arrive."

Guilliman recorded it quickly.

"The location for the ceremony?"

Yingzhou said.

"Xiuluo Holy Star, Central Plaza. The open space there has enough capacity."

Guilliman said.

"Understood. The security plan will be handled by Angron, and I will assist."

Angron said. "Good."

Guilliman lowered his head to record.

Yingzhou looked at everyone present.

"The third anniversary of the Xiuluo Holy Star Alliance. Three years ago, no one in the Bode Star System cared about us. Three years later, no one dares not to care about us. These three years, you have worked hard."

Horus said. "It was no hardship."

Sanguinius said. "For the Human race."

Mortarion did not speak, but his gaze was a little brighter than usual.

Lion had no expression, but he sat up straighter.

Magnus said.

"Father, this is what we ought to do."

Yingzhou nodded.

"That is all, meeting adjourned. Guilliman, Luojia, Magnus, and Angron stay behind; the specific plan for the ceremony needs to be discussed further. Everyone else, go and prepare."

The Primarchs stood up, and the sounds of chairs moving and low-voiced farewells echoed in the study.

Yingzhou, Guilliman, Luojia, Magnus, and Angron remained in the study.

Yingzhou looked at Guilliman.

"Guilliman, you speak first about the specific plan for the ceremony. Start with the venue layout of the Central Plaza; the preparatory work starts in full today."

Guilliman opened the Data Pad.

"Yes, Father."

East District, new building construction site.

Perturabo crouched next to the foundation, holding a measuring instrument in his hand, checking the flatness of the freshly poured concrete wall.

He wore a gray work jacket, a dark blue shirt, gloves on his hands, and his hair was a bit messy from the wind.

He stared intently at the reading on the measuring instrument, muttering something to himself.

Dorn walked over and stood behind him.

"Is the data within specifications?"

Perturabo did not turn his head.

"Yes, the deviation is within the allowed range. What are you doing here? Isn't there a meeting?"

Dorn crouched down beside him.

"It's over. Father arranged for me to return to the southern border; I will set off after the ceremony ends."

Perturabo put down the measuring instrument.

"Oh."

Dorn was in Silence for a moment, then spoke.

"You didn't want to go to the meeting, and Father didn't force you. He said everyone has their own battlefield."

Perturabo's fingers paused, and he turned his head to look at Dorn.

"Father really said that?"

Dorn said.

"Mm."

Perturabo lowered his head.

He stood up and patted the dust off his pants.

"I recalculated the plan for the drainage pipes. Use nano-composite pipes, done right the first time."

Dorn also stood up.

"Can you accept the increase in cost?"

Perturabo looked at him.

"Whether I can accept it or not, I have to. Your opinions aren't always useless; infrastructure has to last for hundreds of years, it can't be slapped together."

Ignoring Perturabo's stubbornness, Dorn nodded.

"Do you need help?"

Perturabo shook his head.

"No need."

At this moment, the foreman in the distance shouted.

"Lord Perturabo, there are two more trucks of concrete for Building No. 3, would you like to check the mix ratio?"

Perturabo turned and walked away.

"They're here."

In the garden of the Primarch Residential Area, young Fulgrim was squatting by a flower bed, holding a trowel in his hand, carefully transplanting a rose.

Yingxin's mother sat on a bench nearby, knitting a sweater.

"Grandmother, is it okay to plant this rose here? Is there enough sunlight?"

Yingxin's mother took a look.

"It's enough; that spot gets sun from morning until afternoon."

Young Fulgrim nodded in satisfaction, packed the soil down, watered it, and clapped the dirt off his hands contentedly.

Young Leman Russ lay on the grass nearby, a blade of grass in his mouth, squinting at the sky.

"Fulgrim, why are you planting so many flowers?"

Young Fulgrim stood up.

"They're beautiful; someone like you who only knows how to eat meat wouldn't understand."

Young Leman Russ snorted, but did not retort.

Young Alpharius and Omegon were squatting behind a bush in the corner of the garden, whispering something to each other.

Young Curze sat beside Yingxin's mother, holding that book, his gaze resting on the flowers.

Yingxin's mother looked down at him.

"Curze, do you like flowers?"

Curze thought for a moment.

"I do; they don't talk, and they don't disturb anyone."

Young Alpharius poked his head out from behind the bushes.

"Grandmother, we're back."

Yingxin's mother looked at them.

"Where did you go?"

"Just walking around."

Omegon added.

"Seeing the changes in the Xiuluo Holy Star."

Yingxin's mother did not press further, just nodded.

"Go wash your hands, we'll eat in a while."

The twins nodded and ran toward the house.

In the distance, Yingxin chased a butterfly through the garden, her laughter crisp and clear.

Young Fulgrim watched her, the corners of his mouth slightly raised.

The capital of the Xiuluo Holy Star is commonly called "Central City" by the people.

Because the Primarch Residential Area is here, and the Emperor is here, every brick in this city is soaked with the deepest memories of Human Civilization.

In the Central Plaza, workers were setting up the Viewing Platform.

The silver-white alloy frame glittered in the sunlight, and the exterior walls of the buildings around the plaza were covered with huge banners.

"A little to the left, more to the left... too much, to the right."

A middle-aged man in work clothes stood under the scaffolding, looking up and directing the workers hanging the banners.

His name was Mars, an old worker from the municipal Engineering Team who had worked under Perturabo for two years, rising from a common mason to a site supervisor.

The worker overhead adjusted the position of the banner.

"Is this okay?"

Mars stepped back a few paces and squinted to look.

"That's it. Come down, next one."

The worker slid down the scaffolding and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Mars, this is already the tenth one, right? How many more are there?"

Mars flipped through the Data Pad in his hand.

"There are forty-seven in the Central City area, and today is the last one."

He pointed to the east side of the plaza.

"There are a few more over there, but our team isn't responsible for them; Lord Perturabo is leading people to hang them himself."

The worker's eyes lit up.

"Lord Perturabo is hanging them himself? A big shot like him does this kind of work?"

Mars laughed.

"Lord Perturabo does all kinds of work; last month when the sewer in the East District was clogged, he led people to fix it himself. Guess what? He was squatting in the pit, covered in mud, looking more like a worker than we do."

The worker clicked his tongue in wonder.

"Lord Perturabo is a Primarch, the son of the Emperor, and he has no airs at all."

Mars patted him on the shoulder.

"Alright, stop chatting, let's go eat. There's work this afternoon; we have to paint the fences around the plaza."