"Human? No—"
"Are you an Astartes?!"
Kailebor narrowed his eyes into slits, a dangerous cold light glinting within. His steps were light and slow as he moved around Theoris, like a cunning, bloodthirsty Beast patiently waiting for his prey to show a weakness.
A height of nearly three meters, knotted muscles, a physique like an ancient Greek god of war, and distinct human features—combining these details, this experienced Drukhari immediately deduced the other's identity.
A biological weapon of the Imperium of Man!
An old rival the Drukhari frequently encountered while raiding for Slaves!
"Heh, I didn't expect to encounter an Astartes of the Imperium of Man here," Kailebor snorted contemptuously.
So what if he was an Astartes?
It wasn't as if they hadn't encountered them during raids. At this thought, excitement and battle intent surged within Kailebor. He stared fixedly at Theoris and spoke provocatively: "Perfect. My collection is still missing a complete Astartes skin!"
"Astartes?" However, it was unclear which specific word in that sentence crossed Theoris's line, but his expression darkened instantly.
With a bite force comparable to diamond, his teeth let out a cracking sound: "What did you say? Do I look like a damn Astartes to you?!"
"Hehe, won't admit it?"
Kailebor sneered, continuing to add fuel to the fire: "I've heard that Astartes take pride in their Chapters. You're so quick to deny it... could it be—that you were abandoned by your Chapter? Or are you a traitor Astartes who turned on his Chapter, and that's why you're angry?"
It had to be said that the Drukhari were truly peerless when it came to "trash-talking."
In just two sentences, every word danced wildly across Theoris's minefield!
"You little bastard, why don't you try saying that again?"
Theoris was so angry he almost laughed.
He, a Thunder Warrior Captain, being called an Astartes by an Alien was one thing, but now he was inexplicably being accused of betrayal?
How was this any different from pointing at the nose of a Dark Angel and calling them a Heretic?!
"Looking at you now, you're just like—an abandoned stray dog," Kailebor continued his insults. "Abandoned by the Chapter you considered your glory, and now a pathetic stray dog shivering in the Commorragh sewers!"
As he spoke, he drew an iron whip crackling with electricity from his waist with his left hand, while his right held a poisoned curved blade. He bent his legs to lower his center of gravity, his back arching high like a lobster, resembling a taut bowstring ready to fire!
"Don't worry, as a collection piece I've taken a fancy to, I will be very careful—" He bared his white teeth: "—as I flay your skin!!!"
"
Theoris remained expressionless.
But in reality, fury had filled his chest. If it were before his genetic modification, he probably would have lost control by now!
"A chance—!!!"
Kailebor's pupils constricted sharply.
He had caught the momentary opening Theoris showed from being "distracted" by his provocation!
The moment the last word left his lips!
Boom!
Dust suddenly billowed from the ground, and a visible shockwave surged outward like a tide.
Kailebor's figure vanished abruptly, like an arrow leaving a bow, pushing the Drukhari's racial advantages to the limit. Accompanied by a piercing sonic boom, he lunged before Theoris in an instant!
A ghostly cold light flashed!
The poisoned scimitar sliced through the air, heading straight for Theoris's face at an extremely tricky and vicious angle!
This strike was both fast and dangerous!
It perfectly demonstrated the insidious and ruthless nature of the Drukhari.
First, use highly insulting words to apply psychological pressure, causing the enemy to lose their mind and become distracted, then seize that momentary opening for a fatal blow!
It had to be said that Kailebor truly lived up to his reputation as a top Hunter Squad leader under the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group; his experience was indeed vast.
But unfortunately, his only mistake lay in misjudging his opponent's identity.
Theoris was not an Astartes.
He was a Thunder Warrior!
If "fury" caused an Astartes to lose their cool and make poor judgments, then for a Thunder Warrior, fury was precisely the secret that made them invincible and unstoppable!
Clang!
A crisp hum rang out.
Kailebor's scimitar seemed to hit a sudden brake, stopping just inches away from Theoris's face.
Two thick fingers, like hydraulic pincers, precisely pinched the edge of the blade.
The terrifying grip strength even caused the scimitar, forged from alloy and Wraithbone, to let out an overwhelmed groan as a tiny crack slowly spread from where it was held.
This unbelievable sight caused Kailebor—who was originally full of confidence and had used all his strength, thinking he could decapitate his foe in one blow—to have his pupils shrink to the size of pinpricks, a massive question mark appearing in his mind.
This... how is this possible?!
"Good speed, but unfortunately... lacking strength," Theoris gave his evaluation, his eyes filled with icy chill. "You're done. Now it's my turn!"
Then, with just a slight exertion of force, he pressed the entire scimitar down, along with Kailebor who refused to let go of his weapon, forcing him into a half-kneeling position.
Kailebor's reaction was extremely swift; he took the opportunity to lash out with the Splinter whip in his left hand.
Crack!
The whip, enveloped in a Disruption field, lashed straight toward Theoris's head!
This strike carried immense power and a Disruption field!
If it hit, even with the Thunder Warrior's powerful physical defense, his head would inevitably burst like a shattered watermelon.
However, while his movements were fast, Theoris's were faster!
Theoris's eyes turned fierce. He released the blade and instead grabbed Kailebor's wrist. Then, he raised his leg and kicked Kailebor in the chest like a meteor. The terrifying force even penetrated the Wraithbone armor on his body, a visible shockwave erupting from his back!
Bam!
This kick nearly sent Kailebor to meet his ancestors; he even saw his life flash before his eyes!
The Splinter whip slipped weakly from his hand.
"What? Weren't you going to flay my skin?"
Theoris's face was contorted. His right fingers were like pincers, firmly gripping Kailebor, while his left hand clenched into a fist: "Done after just one hit? I'm standing right here. No one's dodging. Let's see who lasts until the end, shall we?"
As he spoke, another punch flew out!
Bam—!
This punch even produced a sonic boom.
Iron-hard knuckles slammed into Kailebor's face. The terrifying force dispersed, directly distorting that perverted, eerie face, the layers of flesh rippling like patterns in wet cement.
"Aaaaagh—!!!"
Kailebor screamed in pain, his eyes showing fear and ferocity: "Let me go! Let me go—!"
He frantically used his remaining arm and both legs to kick and strike the man before him, who was as immovable as a mountain, trying to make him release the grip on his wrist.
But his punches and kicks felt soft and useless against the other's body.
"Run?"
Theoris sneered, and his fingers suddenly tightened!
Crack!
"Aaaaagh—!"
The Skinner Kailebor screamed in agony. His wrist was crushed raw by the man, bone fragments and flesh mixing as they oozed from between the fingers.
"The Skinner, right?"
"Wanted to flay my skin, right?"
"
"Drukhari, right?"
""
"Astartes, right?!"
""
Bam! Bam! Bam!!!
With every sentence Theoris spoke, his fist struck Kailebor once, accompanied by an extremely muffled,
sound like steel hitting flesh, until finally, this famous Skinner had completely turned into a limp, tenderized mass of matter that no longer resembled a human form.
Kailebor's only mistake was carelessness!
They had lost their reverence for war, participating in this conflict with the mindset of playing a game.
And the result, naturally, was failure.
The strength of Eldar warriors lies in efficient, agile, and swift raids, not in engaging in a war of attrition when ambushed!
In other words, the moment they fell into the encirclement and were forced into a head-on confrontation, their failure was already predetermined.
"What are you two waiting for?!" Having dealt with Kailebor, Theoris frowned and shouted at the two who were still watching the show.
Maximus and Kaecilius exchanged a glance and instantly joined the battlefield!
If every action of the Astartes was synonymous with tactics, discipline, unity, and teamwork, then the actions of the Thunder Warriors were the exact opposite—madness, brutality, and extreme individual prowess!
The "biggest fruit," Kailebor, had been snatched away by the "Old Company Commander." Feeling slightly frustrated, Maximus and Kaecilius could only look for the remaining small fry to vent their anger.
As comrades who had fought side-by-side since the era of the Terra Unification War, their synergy was carved into their very bones.
One held a shield, the other a hammer.
Like two super-heavy tanks, they were invincible; any enemy standing before them was ruthlessly crushed!
Having endured sensory overload, fallen into chaos, and been harassed by dense fire from high ground while facing wave-like group charges from the Half-breeds, the already overwhelmed and retreating Hunter Squad found the addition of the two Thunder Warriors to be the final straw. They instantly collapsed into an irreversible rout!
The sight of their supposedly invincible leader, Kailebor The Skinner, being beaten to death with bare hands completely shattered their psychological defenses!
"The leader is dead!"
"The leader... the leader has been killed!"
"Run!"
"Retreat! Retreat quickly!"
The collapse of morale happened in an instant.
The remaining Trueborn had now completely discarded their so-called noble dignity, fleeing in a frantic, pathetic mess like stray dogs.
As glorious and arrogant as they were when they arrived, they were now just as wretched, humble, and ridiculous!
Killing competitions, skinning collections, teaching the lowly beasts a lesson, restoring noble glory—all of it was thrown to the back of their minds.
Right now, staying alive was all that mattered!
"Get out of my way! Let me go first!"
"I am of House Morgan, let me through!"
"I don't care what house you're from, get lost!"
The path they came from had been blasted shut, leaving only a very narrow hole filled with scrap and garbage. But even a filthy hole was the only way to survive in the eyes of these noble Trueborn.
They completely abandoned their family, honor, and noble labels. In such a chaotic battlefield, they were like a swarm of headless flies, pushing, cursing, and fighting each other to escape this hell.
It was utterly ridiculous!
"For freedom! For liberation! Kill—!"
Gork's roar, like that of an ancient beast, became the horn that completely crushed the Trueborn's morale.
At this moment, the once high-and-mighty, peerless Trueborn were no longer "invincible," nor were they unshakable mountains.
The Half-breeds and Slaves saw the hope of overthrowing them!
Though that hope was slim, at least in this moment, they could grasp this hard-won hope firmly in their palms.
Gork, the former arena slave, fought like a god of war!
His iron-claw arm, modified by a Blood Singer, became the perfect execution tool. He seized the panicked Trueborn who were trying to flee and, with the power of hydraulic lines, crushed their heads into pieces!
His target was the "Trueborn" who had provoked him!
With one iron arm and clad in crude metal armor, Gork led the slave warriors into the ranks of the Trueborn.
"Don't run—!" He found his target.
The Zhen Shengzi Warrior who had made a throat-slitting gesture at him at the entrance.
The massive hydraulic pincers locked firmly onto the other's arm, forcibly dragging the Trueborn—who had already gotten half his body into the filthy hole—back out.
"No, get away! Don't touch me!" the Trueborn screamed in terror, struggling frantically to break free.
A sharp dagger stabbed into Gork's flesh again and again, but this man, as wild as a savage bear, had bloodshot eyes. He ignored his injuries and roared as he hauled the elf out completely.
"Do you still recognize me?!"
Gork smashed a fist into his face, roaring and pouring out his fury.
"Ah! No, don't kill me!" Having taken a punch, the Trueborn clearly recognized the burly man before him. The arrogance on his face was gone, replaced by deep terror. "I am from House Morgan, don't kill me!"
"House Morgan?"
Gork spat a mouthful of thick phlegm mixed with blood onto his face, then grinned savagely. "Today, even if you were Viktor's son, you would have to die!"
"Kill him!!!"
The surrounding Slaves swarmed forward, using crude weapons to frantically hack and bash at him.
One after another, the Trueborn who failed to enter the hole were eventually surrounded by the angry Half-breeds and Slaves, then tortured to death with extremely cruel methods. Wails, screams, and pleas for mercy echoed across this land that had been ruled by pain and darkness for ten thousand years!
And what of the Trueborn who escaped?
They fled blindly, their minds filled with nothing but fear, sprinting toward the exit without a second thought!
Finally, they saw hope.
That Wraithbone Path they came in on—as long as they got out through this road, as long as they could return to the upper spires, as long as... Just as they stepped onto the Wraithbone Path with hope, a large number of filthy, emaciated, yet angry-eyed Half-breeds and Slaves suddenly appeared in front of and behind them.
These lower-class people, whom they regarded as "beasts," now held their lives in their hands!
"No, don't!"
Standing on the Wraithbone Path, the Dark Eldar Warriors, blocked from both ends, completely panicked.
Below them was the abyss-like Webway. Once they fell, the fate awaiting them would be to be lost forever in the Warp.
The only way out was completely blocked!
Anna just watched them quietly, her eyes showing a hint of disgust and disdain.
Once, she too had admired the Trueborn and revered their bloodline.
But now, Emrys had shown her that... Trueborn were neither noble nor terrifying.
"Blow the bridge!"
Following her command.
Pre-set bombs were detonated, and the terrifying explosion immediately caused the fragile bridge made of Wraithbone to collapse!
"No—"
—"
Dozens of Dark Eldar Warriors fell into the endless abyss of the Webway with looks of despair.
The "First Counter-Encirclement and Suppression" campaign, under Emrys's leadership, achieved a complete victory.
"The Skinner" Kailebor, that notorious executioner, had his head severed and hung at the entrance of the Skull-Cracking Corridor. The rest of the Hunting squad's Trueborn were no exception, and were all decapitated for public display!
News that the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group's Hunting squad was annihilated in the Painful Nest and that dozens of Trueborn had been beheaded spread like the wind!
Under Emrys's direction, this news was spread throughout dozens of surrounding low-level communities.
To overthrow the dark rule of Commorragh, relying solely on the resistance of one region like the Painful Nest was absolutely not enough!
Military victory had to be promptly transformed into political power!
He had to awaken more Slaves, Half-breeds, Gladiators, and experimental subjects—those people living in a daze under the shadow of the Trueborn Bloodline theory!
The first thing to do was to give these people confidence!
Riding the wave of victory from this "Counter-Encirclement and Suppression," Emrys wanted those who were still watching, staying silent, and being oppressed to see with their own eyes—that the high and mighty Trueborn could also die, could also feel dread, and could also be afraid!
And what they dreaded and feared was precisely—the power of the people!!!
The banner and slogans of the Free Liberation Front, like a prairie fire, quickly swept through dozens of blocks under Emrys's intentional promotion.
At first, many people were skeptical.
But soon, when these people secretly came to the Skull-Cracking Corridor, they saw the heads of the Trueborn hanging from the Wraithbone.
Facts speak louder than words!
At this moment, public opinion exploded once again!
However, it was limited to just that.
Making a revolution is not like hosting a dinner party, doing embroidery, painting, or reciting poetry; people will die.
A single victory could not yet completely change the fear of the Trueborn and the Bloodline theory that was etched into their bones.
Indeed, when Emrys sent everyone to other communities to recruit and expand the organization's strength, they encountered unimaginable difficulties.
To put it simply—they didn't believe it!
"It's no good, Pioneer." Gork scratched his head, his face full of distress. "I've been to many places, but they just don't believe it. What should we do?"
"Me too."
"I—they just refuse to believe it no matter what!"
"That's right, those people even said that we are no different from those before us. No matter who wins, they don't want to get involved."
Life is the hardest thing to give up.
Regarding the class concepts etched into their bones, even though someone had already provided a successful demonstration, they were still worried and fearful.
Looking at everyone's jumbled complaints, Emrys had already expected this. He raised his hand and pressed down slightly. "Everyone, please calm down."
Everyone immediately fell silent and turned their gaze toward Emrys.
Having gone through several battles, they now fully believed that the human before them—would lead them out of the dark rule and toward a bright future!
Verion, who was also attending the meeting, felt a bit stifled seeing this scene.
Clearly, he had provided so many resources, but the result?
He had no say in the Committee at all. Not only that, but because of his former status as a "Blood Singer," he was being suppressed here and met with cold shoulders everywhere!
It was simply—turning the world upside down!
These damn beasts; once he seized the supreme power of Commorragh in the future, he would definitely make these lowly insects kneel and lick the soles of his shoes!
"We must admit that the difficulties are real, but—"
Emrys paused, his voice gaining a hint of gravity. He tapped the table and said in a deep voice, "We cannot stop doing something just because there are difficulties, and instead blame them for not understanding us. Exercise your own subjective initiative and think about why everyone is unwilling to believe us. Is there something we are doing wrong? Don't just complain blindly!"
"I'm sorry, Pioneer."
Gork was the first to apologize, looking guilty. "You're right. We were too impatient. We didn't consider everyone's thoughts and just blindly forced our ideas on them."
"Well said. Everyone should learn from Gork." Emrys nodded, agreeing with his statement, and continued, "We should put ourselves in the position of the people and think about how to make everyone accept us, rather than forcefully making them obey us. Otherwise—what difference is there between us and those nobles and rulers?"
Ideology cannot be changed overnight with just a few words. It requires practice, sacrifice, time, and proof through personal action.
Seeing everyone fall silent, Emrys tapped the table and said, "First, I propose that the upcoming mobilization and construction work should be carried out in several steps. Everyone, take notes."
As he spoke, everyone pulled out parchment and pens.
"First, establish our ideology and spread it."
"Second, clarify our ultimate goal. It is not to rule, but to create an equal society where everyone has food to eat and is no longer ruled by Bloodline theory!"
"Third, and most importantly, people need guidance and an outlet. We can hold 'Grievance meetings' in the surrounding oppressed communities, letting those who have been oppressed stand up and expose the evil nobles and the ugly faces of the rulers!"
"Fourth, we are not thugs or warlords. Our purpose is to overthrow dark rule and protect more people like us. Therefore—if such pests appear, they must be severely punished without leniency. We cannot let such scum pollute our ranks!"
"Fifth, centralized redistribution of resources. Implement a public distribution system, managed uniformly by departments, to allocate survival resources to everyone under fair and just conditions!"
"Sixth!"
Speaking to this point, Emrys's gaze turned much colder as he swept it across the founding Committee members in turn. "Recently, I have discovered many people who, because they participated in the battles, think they have merit. This way of thinking is wrong!
It is a mistake!"
Gork's face turned a bit dark.
Although no names were explicitly mentioned, the fact was that he was the highest-ranking Officer in charge of the army on the Committee. These words—were undoubtedly directed at him.
"Pioneer, I—"
He had just started to speak when he was interrupted.
"Shut up!"
Emrys's eyes were like knives. His sharp gaze caused the air pressure in the meeting room to drop suddenly. "I also heard that some people—are occupying a large amount of production resources, and some have even beaten and insulted Half-breeds!"
With every sentence he spoke, everyone's faces grew a shade paler.
"I don't care who it is! And I don't care how much merit they have!" Emrys suddenly exerted force, slamming his palm on the table. His eyes were spitting fire as he roared, "What are we doing? What is our goal? We've only just begun and haven't even achieved final victory, yet some people are already starting to enjoy themselves, resting on their laurels. What do they think they're doing? I'm telling you, no matter who it is, including myself, whoever dares to make a mistake or dares to oppress others will be dealt with by military law!"
"Yes!"
Gork gritted his teeth and responded angrily, "Pioneer, after I go back, I will follow your instructions and rectify our ranks. I will never let these pests harm our pure ranks!"
"Regarding the manual for rectifying the ranks, I have already compiled a set of materials. After you go back, follow this manual!"
Emrys said coldly as he handed over a set of handwritten materials. "From now on, our army must act according to this. Do you understand?!"
"Yes, Pioneer!"
Gork took the materials and looked down.
Precautions, discipline, program—it was very detailed. From the organizational structure of the ranks to ideological construction, everything was written clearly. It was simply astonishing!
Verion looked at those materials and felt a strange chill down his spine.
Why did it feel like—his neck was a bit itchy?
The reforms in the Skull-Cracking Corridor were proceeding in full swing.
Since the Free Liberation Front established its manifesto, discipline, and the rights and obligations of its members following the constitution promulgated by Emrys, and after the public execution of those who used their military merits to oppress their compatriots, the entire Skull-Cracking Corridor was enveloped in a fervent atmosphere.
The once-oppressed Half-breeds, Aliens, and Slaves in the Skull-Cracking Corridor were now all referred to by the same name—compatriots!
They no longer distinguished between one another, and there were no more barriers of bloodline; everyone here was equal!
Disabled Half-breeds and young Aliens lined up in an orderly fashion to receive their daily survival resources, no longer fighting or brawling.
As news spread and through the efforts of Gork and others in organizing'Speak Bitterness' meetings, more and more people began to believe that this was the 'heaven' they sought.
In a short time, the lower classes from dozens of surrounding communities flooded into the Skull-Cracking Corridor.
Such a situation had its pros and cons.
The benefit was obtaining a vast amount of human resources. But the subsequent downside was the massive gap in survival and various resources, as well as the extreme reduction of living space!
Dozens of people had to squeeze into a tiny room, receiving only enough rations each day to sustain life.
The 'private stash' Verion had accumulated over so many years was now stretched thin. If there were no timely external supplements, the hundreds of thousands of people gathered in the Skull-Cracking Corridor would soon face the risk of starvation!
This problem was extremely severe.
If it couldn't be solved, the 'organization' they had worked so hard to build would collapse overnight and return to how it was before.
Moreover, what was even more troublesome...
Whether it was because Gork and the others' propaganda was too effective, or because the exploitation by the Blood Singers and Trueborn was too severe, the situation exceeded Emrys's expectations. The Skull-Cracking Corridor was still receiving a steady stream of people from various surrounding neighborhoods every day!
Emrys looked down at the compiled data, feeling a bit of a headache.
At this moment, he finally understood why the 'Thirteenth Lord' Guilliman, upon waking from the Stasis Field and seeing the Empire's desperate internal affairs, had the urge to let Fulgrim kill him with a single sword stroke!
An excellent administrative officer who is skilled at managing resources is far superior to a general who wins every battle!
And now, he was nearly being driven mad by it.
"A gap for hundreds of thousands of people, what do you plan to do? I'm telling you, don't even think about squeezing another cent out of me, I have nothing left!" Over the past few days, Verion was also going crazy. The family fortune he had saved for so many years had nearly hit rock bottom in just over ten days. Who wouldn't go crazy?
"Lord Verion can rest assured. I won't need you this time; I will handle this matter." Emrys comforted him. After all—it wasn't yet time to slaughter the donkey once the grinding was done!
Was this problem hard to solve?
Not necessarily.
With Emrys's abilities, let alone the resources needed for a mere few hundred thousand people, even if there were ten times more, he would still be capable of providing them.
But he couldn't do that.
He had two concerns.
First: An overly abundant supply of resources would not give this newly established organization cohesion; instead, it would only breed laziness, making them completely dependent on him. This ran counter to his original intention.
Second: Any organization practicing a philosophy must go through the trials of blood and fire during the process to grow step by step. Blindly 'pulling up sprouts to help them grow' would only ruin it.
He could provide help when necessary, but he absolutely could not provide help without scruples or limits.
Tap, tap, tap—
Emrys leaned back in his chair, his gaze falling on a map. These were the surrounding outposts and important facilities that he had Terax and Anna collect information on.
One of these locations held the supplies they were currently most lacking!
How did that saying go?
No guns, no cannons, the enemy makes them for us!
"Have Gork, Anna, and Cales come here for a meeting." Emrys's gaze focused on several outposts on the map. "We can't wait for them to come to us; we must take the initiative and catch them off guard!"
No money, no resources?
Then go and seize them!
Upper Commorragh.
Deep within the dark, cold palace, Meshal knelt on the ground, his forehead pressed against the cold floor tiles. Cold sweat seeped from his pores, and a faint scent of fear hung in the air, as if the scythe of the God of Death was resting against his neck!
These past few days had been a living hell for him!
The Skinner, in whom he had placed high hopes, had led an entire Hunter Squad only to have their heads cut off and hung on the gate like trophies!
The noble families affiliated with the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group were already questioning whether the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group had the ability to replace the Black Heart Conspiracy Group!
And he, Meshal, was the first to face the consequences!
—
"I heard—that the Hunter Squad you sent to purge the Skull-Cracking Corridor was completely wiped out by Emrys."
The figure hidden behind the curtain had an extremely aged voice, carrying a hint of dissatisfaction. A sharp and cold gaze fell upon Meshal through the curtain. "You have disappointed me greatly, Meshal."
"Lord Hernandez—"
Meshal's fearful voice was trembling. "This was just an accident."
"Enough!"
The person behind the curtain suddenly raised their voice, containing a trace of anger. "An accident? Meshal, I don't want to hear your excuses; they are meaningless. You still haven't completed the task I gave you!"
"My— Lord Hernandez, please give me one more chance!"
Meshal lowered his body, pressing himself almost completely against the floor, his voice shaking as he spoke. "I promise you, seven days—no, three days! In three days! I will present Emrys's head to you!"
"Oh, three days?"
Gregory narrowed his eyes into slits. "Meshal, there is no room for jokes in the military!"
"Three days! Just three days!"
Meshal steeled himself, a fierce light gleaming in his eyes. "There is no room for jokes in the military! In three days, I guarantee I will slaughter the rebellious community and present Emrys's head to you, Lord Hernandez!"
"Good."
Gregory seemed satisfied with his attitude and said calmly, "Since you have confidence, to ensure nothing goes wrong, I will place a full Warband at your disposal. I hope this time—you will not disappoint me again. Otherwise, you know the consequences, Meshal."
"Yes, Lord Gregory!"
Meshal pressed himself against the floor, trembling like a leaf.
In the eyes of outsiders, he was the high and mighty 'Grand Arbitrator,' and his status in the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group was second only to one and above ten thousand.
But only Meshal knew that he was nothing more than a blade in his Master's hand.
Once this 'blade' was no longer sharp, the result waiting for him was—to be discarded!
At the thought of the fate of those 'failures,' Meshal couldn't stop shaking.
He must not fail!
Emrys must die!!!
This will be the last chance.
Meshal decided to take action personally, leading a fully equipped Raider Group to execute a Dimension-Reduction Strike on the Skull-Cracking Corridor!
He knew very well that Archon Gregory's character and temper would never tolerate a second failure.
Otherwise... Gregory Hernandez would make him experience extreme pain and torment!
A fully equipped Raider Group contains eight to nine Raider Squads, and in most cases, they are the Conspiracy Group's main private military force for external combat, raiding populations, and resources.
This was the source of his confidence!
He refused to believe that relying on tens of thousands of beasts, bottom-rung trash, and a mere human could possibly overturn everything?!
This was an entire, fully equipped Raider Group!
Let alone suppressing a small rebellious district, even in external combat, facing the Imperium of Man head-on, they would have the power to fight.
Emrys, leading a group of lowly Slaves, repeatedly thwarting the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group, was undoubtedly a harsh slap across his face!
And now, those audacious beasts dared to hang the heads of a noble Trueborn and Kailebor at the entrance of the Skull-Cracking Corridor—this was no longer a simple rebellion, but the most severe provocation against Commorragh's millennia-old order!
Especially during this particular period.
The Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group had just replaced the Black Heart Conspiracy Group, reaching a critical juncture where they were initially taking control of the Boundless Dark City Gemo!
One must know that so many observing Nobles, the Witch Spirit Church, and the Blood Singer Church were watching to see if the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group was qualified to replace Viktor, the former Supreme Overlord.
Therefore, they must strike hard!
Meshal, returning from the Archon's Palace, looked at the Nobles, Trueborn, Witch Spirits, Blood Singers, and Succubi gathered there.
Every person seated here was a regional Overlord entrenched within Commorragh.
Among them were Top-tier Nobles who had existed for ten thousand years, representatives of various Churches, highly respected and skilled Blood Singer Leaders, and even Remien the Succubus from the mysterious Lilithu Sisterhood!
It is no exaggeration to say that if a Whirlwind Torpedo were thrown here, the entirety of Commorragh would instantly fall into a state of leaderlessness!
And the sole purpose of these powerful Overlords—some backed by vast forces, others representatives of Top-tier Nobles—gathering here was to watch him, or rather, to watch how the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group would handle this incident.
The attitude of the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group would determine their stance.
After all, what qualifications did a Conspiracy Group that couldn't even manage a mere Low-level Community have to replace Viktor's rule?
But Meshal had barely sat down—his seat wasn't even warm yet—when he received several pieces of bad news.
"Arbitrator Meshal, I just received news." The elder seated in the first chair on the left spoke in a sarcastic tone: "Several of our family's Pain Cycle Factories near the Myriad Soul Family have fallen.
"
Meshal's eyelids twitched violently, and his already poor complexion immediately worsened.
The elder who spoke was Charlie Syrian, the Patriarch of the Syrian Family!
The history of his family's existence could even be traced back to the Ancient Ida Empire era!
Although repeatedly suppressed by Viktor, they still possessed immeasurable power, and the tentacles of their influence had extended into almost every corner of Commorragh, controlling countless wealth, from factories producing Pain Energy to processing and cycling facilities.
It was precisely because of this that Charlie Syrian's attitude and stance were particularly important.
However, Meshal's troubles were far from over.
Before he could speak, Alves Krelak, sitting in the first chair on the right, followed up, complaining in a teasing tone: "Who says otherwise? Several of our family's businesses have also been attacked by these Low-level Rebels."
Hearing this, Meshal's face turned from green to purple, swollen like a pig's liver: "Family Head Krelak,"
"Oh, so you guys were attacked too?"
Another person interrupted his speech. It was Keith Illisis, who sneered and said, "Several of our family's Weapon Factories and Slave Centers were also raided by these people."
The statements made by the Family Heads of the Three Great Nobles—Illisis, Krelak, and Syrian—instantly placed enormous pressure on Meshal!
One must know that these three families virtually controlled the lifeblood of the Conspiracy Group!
Weapons, Slaves, Souls!
They possessed the "Core Technology," and even the Supreme Overlord Viktor dared not go too far, only gradually seizing their rights.
But now, with these three Top-tier Families simultaneously pressuring Meshal, how could he not be drenched in sweat?
If he didn't handle this properly, he probably wouldn't even have to wait to go punish Emrys; Gregory Hernandez could tear him apart immediately.
"Three Family Heads, this incident... is indeed our mistake."
Meshal could only humble himself and try his best to placate their emotions: "The previous failure was simply due to our carelessness..."
But before he could finish explaining, Charlie Syrian on the left clenched his fist and slammed it hard on the table, his gaze chilling: "Arbitrator Meshal, we are not sitting here to listen to your excuses; we demand results!"
"Your Excellency Syrian, please trust us."
Meshal's tone was steady, though cold sweat was already beading on his forehead: "I can assure you, this was just an accident!"
Bang!
Suddenly, the short-tempered Keith Illisis slapped the table, the loud noise forcefully interrupting Meshal.
"What do you think you are?!" Keith Illisis's eyes were dripping with gloom as he mocked coldly: "We give you face by calling you Arbitrator, and you actually think you're important? Now that trouble has broken out, the big boss won't come out, sending a small fry to take the hit? What right do you have to sit before us? Call Hernandez out for me!"
Meshal's face was extremely ugly; this was practically cursing him to his face!
Yet, he couldn't afford to get angry.
"Your Excellency Illisis, Archon Hernandez has already authorized me command of a Raider Group." Meshal could only lower his stance, speaking humbly and respectfully: "I can also guarantee to everyone present that this time... we will surely annihilate the rebellion and prove the strength of the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group!"
"Heh, let's hope so."
Alves Krelak chuckled softly, showing no anger, but instead kindly comforting the crowd: "In my opinion, why don't we give him another chance? After all, the losses are just a few factories. I trust that the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group, which was capable of replacing the Black Heart Conspiracy Group, certainly won't mistreat us, right?"
Meshal understood the implication of his words.
"Please rest assured, everyone. For these losses... our Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group will certainly provide corresponding Compensation.
After making corresponding promises to the representatives of the Three Great Families and the major powers, he finally managed to temporarily appease them, but the rage in Meshal's heart burned ever hotter!
Emrys!
The Rebel Army!
They were like two thorns deeply embedded in his throat, needing to be expelled immediately.
As soon as the meeting ended, Meshal immediately summoned the Trueborn; he intended to decide the victor in a single battle!
He wanted to use overwhelming force to prove to the Three Great Families and the other forces still watching and wavering that their Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group was capable of replacing the Black Heart Conspiracy Group!
Everyone knows the situation, right?
After saying this, Meshal fell into a chilling silence, like a petrified statue.
The summoned Trueborn represented nearly half of the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group's elite strength. Looking at Meshal, whose face was as dark as water, they felt the air in the entire hall was heavy, as if solidified!
No one dared to speak first and incur his wrath!
After a long while, the silent Meshal raised his head. What burned in his eyes was no longer anger, but an extreme, icy coldness
A pure desire for destruction.
Issue the orders!
His voice was calm, yet it was this unusual tranquility that made all the Trueborn nobles present feel a shiver run down their souls!
The Pain Walker Heavy Infantry Regiment!
The Nightmare Weaver Assault Brigade!
The Incubus Assassin Squad!
The Serpent Mercenary Group!
The Slave Regiment!
The Vicious Wolf Quick Response Team!
Calamities, Remnants, Twisted Abominations, and Blade-Wing Crows!
Chronos Parasitic Engines, and Talos Pain Engines!
And
three Ravager Aerial Squadrons, two Reaver Aerial Squadrons, one Lacerator Aerial Combat Team, one hundred Raider Bikes, three Venom Fighter Jets, a squadron of Raven Fighter Jets, ten squadrons of Blade-Wing Crow Jet Fighters, and two Void Raven Bombers!
The Trueborn officer nobles present were almost entirely shocked by the string of terms Meshal rattled off, as if reading a menu.
This, this was no longer preparation for suppressing a rebellion
it was entirely preparation for a small-scale war!
It was clear just how seriously Meshal was treating this suppression!
My Lord, isn't this
a bit too much?
A subordinate said, "To deal with just one rebellious district, mobilizing so many people
"
What I want is an absolute crushing!
Meshal sternly interrupted the speaking subordinate, his eyes flashing fiercely: "The first battle is the decisive battle! I want to clearly tell the other forces what happens when they dare to provoke the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group! It is settled!"
As the Grand Arbitrator, his word was iron law when the Archon was absent, and naturally, others dared not defy him.
My Lord, then
how should Verion be dealt with?" one of the officers cautiously asked.
Verion was, after all, a Blood Singer and the Witch Lord of the Celestial School, one of the Witch Covens. If they rashly turned hostile, they worried they wouldn't be able to explain themselves to the Witch Coven.
Verion? Hmph!
Meshal narrowed his eyes into slits, thought for a few seconds, and sneered, "As the administrator of the Skull-Cracking Corridor, allowing the Rebel Army to slaughter the Trueborn and challenge order
that single charge is enough to convict him! As for the Witch Coven, I will handle it!"
He paused for a moment.
Meshal's eyes flashed fiercely: "Also, inform the Blood Bone Ravagers and tell them
it is time to prove their loyalty to My Lord Hernandez!"
At the same time.
Inside the Base established by the Uprising Army, centered around the Skull-Cracking Corridor, everyone from top to bottom was immersed in an atmosphere of joy.
Repeated military victories and the large amount of resources plundered from the nobles successfully solved the resource shortage problem in the Settlement, attracting more Half-breeds, Slaves, and Aliens from the surrounding area to join the Free Liberation Front organization.
However, unlike the others, Verion appeared very tense, his face showing deep worry and a slight hint of fear.
Something is wrong!
Terribly wrong!
Based on what he knew, after losing so much face, the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group shouldn't remain silent and inactive; this abnormality seemed to be brewing a thunderous storm!
He told Emrys his concerns.
Yes, I know.
To his surprise, Emrys showed no sign of shock, speaking calmly as if he had already guessed it: "Right, I happen to need you for something. Come with me to meet someone."
Meet who?
Verion paused, then asked.
The Family Head of the Syrian Family, Charles Syrian," Emrys said calmly.
?
Even Verion was shocked by Emrys's audacious idea: "Are you insane?"
They had just raided the Syrian Family's factory, and now he was proposing to take him to meet the Syrian Family Head? What was that if not walking straight into a trap?!
See, you're getting impatient again!
Emrys smiled and reassured him: "Don't worry, I'm not that stupid, nor am I looking for death. I said this after careful consideration. We are just going to negotiate with him, so what is there to fear?"
Careful consideration? Looking for death?
Verion was astonished by the human's nerve. After just robbing their factory, he immediately proposed negotiating with them? Did he really think they were some great philanthropists?!
Verion, My Lord, listen to me.
Emrys felt helpless and had to break down and meticulously explain the current situation and his considerations.
Previously, the Black Heart Conspiracy Group was the strongest, and Supreme Overlord Viktor commanded countless Ravager Organizations.
It was precisely by relying on these Ravager Organizations that he could, on the one hand, appease and bribe nobles, other Conspiracy Groups, and Witch Covens, and on the other hand, deter those forces attempting to usurp power.
But things were different now.
With Supreme Overlord Viktor imprisoned, the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group had taken its place, becoming the largest faction in the open!
The Ravager Organizations that once swore allegiance to Viktor naturally turned and defected to them.
Betrayal was never a rare occurrence in Commorragh.
These events unfolded daily here; only absolute military force and deterrence could maintain a position of dominance.
Gregory Hernandez did exactly this. He imitated Viktor's high-pressure policies, using ruthless, bloody, and cruel methods to directly purge a large number of the Black Heart Conspiracy Group's core members, including some wavering nobles.
So, the question arises.
Since loyalty doesn't exist, what binds these families to the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group?
The answer is
profit!
Pure profit!
Since the relationship is bound by profit, it means they are not unbreakable. Emrys seized upon this point to gain allies.
So, what's your point?
Verion was confused. Of course he knew all this, but
what did it have to do with Emrys taking him straight into a trap to meet the Syrian Family?
It does!
Emrys smiled: "I have a way to make them defect and become our allies. And you, Verion, My Lord, your bloodline
that is the most crucial bargaining chip!"
Despite Emrys's repeated assurances of safety, Verion simply refused to agree.
Finally, Emrys, who really couldn't be bothered to waste any more breath on this coward, directly ordered Terax to tie Verion up and take him away by force.
Want to resist?
Not a chance!
Terax might be young, but don't forget his identity!
A Custodian Guard protecting the Golden Throne—handling a mere Blood Singer was naturally no trouble at all.
Thus, Verion was picked up by the neck like a little chick by Terax and tossed into a hovercar.
Verion was in despair.
In his view, Emrys was seeking death!
That was "Sirian," a legendary existence in the infinite Dark City Gemo!
Even the Supreme Overlord Viktor, who had ruled Gemo for ten thousand years, had to bow his proud head before them.
And the reason was that the Sirian Family possessed what could be called a unique soul extraction technology.
This was the foundation of the Sirian Family's existence and an important technology that allowed the Drukhari to escape Slaanesh's consumption and preserve their own souls.
It was precisely because of this that the Sirian Family could always remain secure in their position through successive conspiracies, wars, and power struggles.
The Three Great Families—possessing soul extraction technology, weapon and equipment manufacturing technology, and management of resources and Slaves—had faintly become the hidden kings of Gemo.
After all, Archons changed every year, but the Three Great Families existed for Eternity.
And now, in one fell swoop, Emrys had offended all Three Great Families!
Not only had he ransacked the factories of the Three Great Families, but he had also slaughtered their people wholesale. In Verion's view, this was even more terrifying than offending the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group.
If that were all, it would be one thing, but Emrys actually wanted to take him to negotiate with the Sirian Family?
It was simply like lighting a lamp in a latrine—seeking death!
However, Verion had no room to refuse because Terax's master-crafted Bolter was pressed against his forehead.
If he made even the slightest move, his head would surely be blown to pieces the next moment.
Besides, even without considering the Bolter at his forehead, Verion didn't want to fight a Custodian.
He was a Blood Singer, a noble "scholar," not a butcher, and certainly not a warrior!
Only an idiot with water in his brain would think of dueling a Custodian.
As a Blood Singer with extremely deep research into flesh and blood, no one knew better than Verion exactly how high the caliber of the Custodians created by the Emperor of Mankind was!
It was no exaggeration to say that Terax crushing him to death was no different from him crushing a slave.
"We're here."
As Anna, who was driving, stopped, Emrys opened his eyes in the passenger seat.
"According to intelligence, this is an important property under the Sirian Family... the Hall of Suffering." Anna paused, her voice carrying a trace of imperceptible tension: "The head of the Sirian Family, Charlie Sirian, comes here once every seven days like clockwork."
Hall of Suffering!
It was the name of the building and a manifestation of the Sirian Family's power!
Rather than a building, it was more like a living creature crouching in the darkness of Gemo. Its outer walls were pieced together from tens of thousands of captives, Slaves, Aliens, and even human skeletons.
Every skeleton was meticulously polished and buffed, and even the joints were embedded with shimmering dark crystals.
This black mineral, similar to crystal, contained rich energy within and could be embedded into weapons, firearms, or added elsewhere as energy crystals, but here... it was everywhere.
In the eye sockets of every skull, a pale flame flickered like a soul.
As if they were still alive, possessing the consciousness of living people, watching every noble who stepped into this Hall of Suffering.
As a Rogue Trader, Emrys was considered quite well-traveled and knowledgeable.
But the moment he saw the Hall of Suffering, he realized his experience was still lacking; just the skeletons embedded in the outer walls represented no fewer than several hundred types of Alien life that had long been extinct in the Milky Way Galaxy.
"Let's go, Lord Verion."
Emrys took a deep breath, calmed his restless heart, and pushed open the car door to step out.
His boot soles tapped on the bone-like ground, which was as smooth as a mirror, producing a hollow echo. The skeletons embedded in the outer walls immediately let out a horrific wail, like some special welcoming ceremony, which was nauseating.
He wore a half-mask on his face to conceal his appearance.
After all, he was still in a "wanted" state, so he had to show some respect to the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group.
But compared to the relaxed Emrys, Verion was far worse off.
The Blood Singer was trembling so much from fear that if Terax hadn't been holding him by the neck, he probably would have collapsed to his knees by now.
Emrys tidied his clothes and then, with a smile on his face, walked toward the Hall of Suffering under Anna's lead.
After the group passed through an archway held up by moaning Slaves, the scene inside the Hall of Suffering once again refreshed Emrys's understanding of the "Dark Aeldari" and the definition of the term "cruelty"!
A massive circular structure, like a Roman Colosseum.
But inside, every detail revealed the twisted aesthetic concepts unique to the Dark Aeldari. The tiered stands were all constructed from smoothly polished Wraithbone, with struggling, distorted creatures embedded in the edges, permanently fused with the place!
A perfect combination of Eternity and suffering!
Hundreds of transparent spheres floated above, each containing a lifeform whose soul was being slowly extracted.
Their wails were transformed into soft music, intertwining with the laughter of the nobles in the audience.
Emrys even saw a semi-transparent, open-air box where several nobles were watching a Blood Singer torture a slave controlled by nerve bundles, showing off the Blood Singer's supreme skill by peeling away the slave's flesh bit by bit.
They used ornate crystal cups to drink the fresh blood flowing from the tortured slave in agony.
And this scene was playing out almost constantly in every stand and in the hall below!
"Welcome to the Hall of Suffering, Mr. Emrys."
At that moment, a butler dressed in long black robes silently approached them: "The Family Head is waiting at the highest stand. Please follow me."
"Alright."
Emrys's expression remained unchanged as he nodded and agreed with a smile.
He didn't foolishly ask why the head of the Sirian Family knew he would come here.
"Lord Verion, long time no see." The butler then looked at the trembling Verion and nodded with a smile: "The Family Head specifically instructed me to convey greetings to you and the Durukari Family."
Verion shivered and nodded with difficulty: "Al-also, please convey my greetings to the esteemed Lord Sirian."
Before the Sirian Family, even the former "Royal Family," the Durukali, were still just...
...ants!
Emrys followed the butler and stepped onto the floating platform.
They passed by those noble boxes along the way, and the scenes inside could truly be described as challenging the limits of humanity.
In terms of torture and pleasure, the Drukhari / Dark Aeldari truly live up to their inheritance of the "Old Aeldari" bloodline; pure Aeldari are indeed the banner of debauchery!
As they walked along, Emrys also discovered something.
The Hall of Agony seemed to be more than just what it appeared on the surface.
It wasn't just an "arena"; it also included a lot of "service-oriented" content.
For example, selecting Slaves, training, providing places for nobles to enjoy themselves, and various dazzlingly luxurious activities.
The pure pursuit of pain was no longer the theme here.
Extreme pleasure was the true purpose of the "Hall of Agony," and here, Emrys also witnessed the diversity of an old pervert's fetishes!
"Mr. Emrys, what do you think of this place?"
The butler naturally noticed Emrys's curious, surveying gaze and asked with a smile.
"Splendid!" Emrys gave his answer. "It's truly splendid!"
After all, before coming here, he had never seen anyone who could train Tyranids and Orks into sex Slaves.
In this regard, the Drukhari / Dark Aeldari were simply too "professional"!
"Of course." Although the butler's tone was humble, the pride filling his heart could not be hidden. "Here, there are only services you can't imagine, none you can't obtain; this is precisely the theme of the Hall of Agony!"
After a few words of small talk, the floating platform they were riding reached the highest stand.
This place was shrouded in a pale purple energy barrier. A white-haired Aeldari elder reclined on a throne woven from living human spines, his jewel-encrusted bionic eye rotating slowly in its socket as he scrutinized the uninvited guest.
"Family Head, the guest has arrived."
The butler bowed humbly and respectfully to the elder reclining on the throne of living spines.
"Mhm."
""
The elder nodded slightly.
The butler tactfully turned and left, leaving only Emrys, Verion, Terax, Anna, and the current ruler of the Sirian Family on the massive high stand... Charlie Sirian!
As a Custodian, Terax's attitude toward Aliens was never particularly good.
At this moment, seeing only one person in front of them, he couldn't help but clench his fists.
"Ah, our distinguished guest."
Charlie Sirian's voice sounded very uncomfortable, cold and damp, like a venomous snake slithering across one's neck. "I hope the sights you saw on your way here did not make you feel... unpleasant."
"Very wonderful."
Emrys praised hypocritically with a smile, "The art of the Sirian Family is indeed impressive."
.
"Heh... I'm curious, Mr. Emrys."
Charlie Sirian let out a light chuckle and scrutinized him, his gaze filled with curiosity and inquiry. "Who gave you the courage to come here and see me after looting several of my soul extraction factories?"
As he spoke, Charlie Sirian changed his posture, shifting from his casual reclining position to sitting upright.
At the same time, a heart-palpitatingly heavy pressure emanated from the elder, shrouding the entire stand!
"Mr. Emrys, I admire your courage..."
A flash of coldness appeared in Charlie Sirian's eyes, and his voice became low and extremely oppressive. "But I also don't mind capturing you here and handing you over to the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group!"
"Respected Excellency Charlie Sirian, humans have an old saying: 'friends are often made after a fight'."
Emrys performed a very standard noble salute to the old man and said calmly, "Furthermore, I don't believe that with the Sirian Family's foundation, you would care about the loss of a few mere factories. And... I have come to see you today precisely because of this matter."
"Oh?"
Charlie Sirian showed some doubt, curious about what Emrys was going to say.
"Excellency Sirian, I am here to apologize to you."
Emrys appeared very sincere, saying, "I am very sorry for looting several of your factories."
"Less nonsense, young human," Charlie Sirian said indifferently. "I don't have much energy to listen to your drivel. You have three sentences left... after that, I will capture you and send you to Hernandez."
"I wouldn't recommend you do that, Excellency Sirian."
Emrys still maintained his smile.
But Verion behind him was already trembling with fear, wanting to kneel and beg for mercy.
"One."
Charlie Sirian was expressionless.
"To be blunt, Excellency Sirian, you and your family... are facing an imminent catastrophe.
"
Emrys said.
"Two."
Charlie Sirian gave a cold sneer. "You have one last chance for a sentence, young man."
"No need." Emrys suddenly smiled and said, "I have already finished, Excellency Sirian."
"?
"
Verion beside him broke out in a cold sweat.
As expected, this guy is just looking for death!
He wanted to beg for mercy, but his mouth was covered by Terax, making it impossible to make a sound.
Silence, an oppressive silence.
After a moment, Charlie Sirian also laughed. He looked at Emrys meaningfully, his fingertips tapping on the bone armrest. "Interesting, I haven't met a human as bold as you in a long time... Fine, you've successfully piqued my curiosity. Go on."
The reason Emrys acted unexpectedly was to seize the initiative of the conversation.
And now, he had succeeded.
"Excellency Sirian, I am not saying this just to be sensationalist," Emrys said. "As far as I know, the Sirian Family possesses a special Soul-Refining Technology, which is why you've been able to establish a foothold in the chaotic Commorragh until now and become a target that every Conspiracy Group needs to win over."
"Correct."
At this mention, a trace of imperceptible pride appeared on Charlie Sirian's face.
"But it is precisely because of this that I say... the Sirian Family is about to face a great disaster."
After saying this, Emrys deliberately paused for a few seconds. Once he saw a hint of solemnity in Charlie Sirian's eyes, he continued, "I believe you can sense it too, right? Now that the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group has imprisoned the Supreme Overlord Viktor and become the new Supreme Archon, the question is... can Archon Hernandez tolerate the existence of the Sirian Family?"
"Your assumption is meaningless."
Charlie Sirian said indifferently, "Regardless of whether he can tolerate it, the Sirian Family won't care."
Want to move against the Sirian Family?
Not to mention the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group, even Viktor back then couldn't do it!
This was their confidence and the foundation of the nobility!
Just an Archon; they can be replaced, but we nobles are the foundation of Commorragh, eternal and unchangeable existences!
Charlie Sirian firmly believed this.
"That's hard to say..." Emrys shook his head and said, "I am a Rogue Trader with quite a few connections in the Imperium of Man. As far as I know... the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group seems to be planning to repeat the little trick Victor played when he rose to power."
Sure enough, Charlie Sirian's expression changed slightly at this moment.
And here, one must mention how Viktor seized power and became the Supreme Overlord.
Viktor, a slave of extremely low birth, was able to reign over the endless Dark City Gemo for ten thousand years. The most important "conspiracy" of his career was that event with extremely far-reaching influence!
Asdrubael Viktor planned and guided the Imperium of Man to launch a massive attack on the Dark City Gemo.
By killing with a borrowed knife, he slaughtered a large number of ancient Aeldari Empire Elders, and it was in this event that directly led to the downfall of the Durukari Family!
Now, someone was telling Charlie Sirian that the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group intended to emulate Viktor?
Then the question was, if the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group were to do this, who would be the target of this "slaughter"?
No need to think to know... it must be the current Three Great Families!
"Impossible!"
But having come to his senses, Charlie Sirian denied it flatly. "Hernandez isn't that stupid. If we Three Great Families are lost, the entire Dark City will fall into unprecedented chaos!"
"Excellency Sirian, what do you think is more important to the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group?"
Emrys was in no hurry to retort, but instead asked a question.
"Power?"
Charlie Sirian frowned and said.
"Wrong."
Emrys shook his head.
"Then it's the 'technology' held by our Three Great Families."
Charlie Sirian said confidently, "As long as he can master our technology, he can maintain his rule, just like Viktor!"
"Also wrong."
Emrys shook his head again.
Now, Charlie Sirian was also very confused. "Then... what is it?"
"Having no Three Great Families is very important to him."
Emrys said word by word.