In the massive arena, on the highest spectator stand shrouded by a purple energy barrier...
Below, the nobles were cheering for a victory. Between clinking glasses, they admired the Gladiators they had bet on, performing a drama with their lives.
Meanwhile, Charlie Sirian, seated upon a throne of biological vertebrae, had fallen into a long silence.
This old-school Dark Aeldari, the king beneath the shadows of Commorragh and the leader of the Three Great Families, had a face that appeared calm, yet it hid a sharp chill, like the final tranquility before a storm.
His pale, slender knuckles repeatedly tapped against the smooth bone, producing a crisp sound.
Tap, tap, tap!
Each beat felt as if it were knocking against everyone's hearts.
"Young human, may I assume..." His tone was deliberately drawn out until the very end. This calculating and treacherous Aeldari suddenly glared with wide eyes, a tangible killing intent sweeping across the entire stand through the energy barrier: "That you are intentionally inciting political disorder in Commorragh, intending to repeat the Imperium of Man's invasion of Commorragh?!"
The moment his voice fell, the imprisoned, tortured souls within the crystal balls hanging above the stand let out shrill, hair-raising screams!
"What audacity!"
Charlie Sirian let out a sinister, cold laugh: "You say Hernandez wants to repeat Viktor's trick, guiding the Imperium of Man to attack Commorragh to seize the chance to eliminate our Three Great Families. Where is the evidence?!"
As he spoke, he suddenly slammed his hand onto the smooth bone chair: "Boy, although Commorragh has been fighting for power for ten thousand years, we are still Aeldari after all. No matter how foolish Hernandez is, he wouldn't do such a thing. To say he betrayed the Aeldari? Fine. If you can't produce evidence today... I can guarantee you that no matter who stands behind you, it is impossible for you to walk out of here!"
As the Family Head of the Sirian Family, his threat certainly carried weight!
"Evidence?"
To everyone's surprise, facing the enraged Sirian Family Head, Emrys didn't show the slightest panic. Instead, he wore an expression as if he were looking at an idiot, then let out a heavy sigh: "My apologies, it seems I need to adjust my opinion of you."
"What do you mean?"
Hearing this, the furious Charlie Sirian showed a hint of bewilderment.
"If I had known earlier that even the family controlling Commorragh's greatest resources was this 'naive'..."
Emrys's words carried a hint of regret: "I should have gone straight to Hernandez. I'm sure he wouldn't care about what 'evidence' I have, let alone say such naive things."
Veins and blood vessels bulged on Charlie Sirian's forehead as he panted heavily: "Are you implying that we are stupid?!"
Verion was nearly scared to death, praying frantically in his heart: Big brother, Grandpa, please stop provoking him, or we're all going to die!
But unfortunately, things went contrary to his wishes.
Emrys looked at him and nodded: "Exactly, I am saying you are stupid, utterly stupid. To be blunt... any random Planetary Governor chosen from a territory of the Imperium of Man might be smarter than you. And I'm truly curious how a family as naive as yours has survived in Commorragh for ten thousand years without being finished off by Viktor. It's simply a miracle!"
Verion looked in horror at Charlie Sirian, who was already gasping for air in rage, his pupils bloodshot.
He had never been this terrified; offending the Sirian Family... they would be tortured to death!
"Even a minor Planetary Governor in my Imperium of Man knows."
Emrys still didn't hold back and continued: "Power is something that cannot be 'shared.' If a supreme ruler doesn't even understand such a simple truth, I think he'll probably be replaced very soon. Don't you agree?"
The words were blunt but the logic was sound. Charlie Sirian indeed understood the hidden meaning in Emrys's words.
His face was expressionless, but his heavily heaving chest and those vicious, undisguisedly malicious eyes said everything.
Under this invisible pressure, Verion, who had the weakest mental fortitude, felt as if he were about to suffocate.
His pupils were bloodshot, rapid gasps escaped his mouth, and pea-sized beads of sweat seeped from his pores.
Verion regretted it.
Why did he believe a human's 'lies'?!
If not for his damned greed and ambition, if not for this damned human, how could he have been targeted by the 'Sirian Family'?
The Durukari Family was indeed once 'royalty.'
But how much weight did this 'royalty' actually hold in today's Commorragh, and in the eyes of many Aeldari?
The answer was... almost none!
If it weren't so, why would he have been willing to become a mere Blood Singer?
Was the taste of power not sweet? No, that wasn't it!
The fundamental reason was that a 'royal family' with zero resources, zero actual power, and only a hollow title was something no one cared about at all!
To put it bluntly, the 'Durukari' who existed in name only were no different from ants that could be crushed at will before a titan like the 'Sirian' family.
But it was different now; he, this 'nominal' royalty, had been forcibly kidnapped by Emrys and brought before them!
This time, it truly was... impossible to escape death.
Just as Verion was harboring resentment and anger toward Emrys, he saw Charlie Sirian, who was sitting on the throne of biological vertebrae with a face as cold as frost and an aura that seemed capable of freezing the soul, suddenly break into a smile.
He laughed? He's smiling?
Verion was stunned, his mind unable to process it for a moment.
But Emrys didn't panic at all, because the Sirian Family Head's reaction was exactly as he had expected.
Clap, clap, clap... Charlie Sirian applauded, the chill on his face melting away like spring snow, as if it had never existed.
"You are very interesting." His tone was gentle, showing no trace of the intent to kill Emrys from moments ago. "I must admit one thing, young human... you are very smart and very cunning, yet every word you say makes it impossible for me to refute."
"That's because what I'm saying is the 'truth,' isn't it?"
Emrys replied with a smile: "At the level of the Three Great Families, it doesn't matter if you have the intention or not; what matters is that you have the capability. For Hernandez, who intends to completely control Commorragh and replace Viktor, that... is already enough."
Charlie Sirian, who switched emotions with ease, gazed deeply at this young human.
After a long time, he let out a breath of turbid air, an imperceptible, heavy exhaustion flickering in the depths of his eyes: "You're right. Whether it was Viktor in the past or Hernandez now, the Three Great Families have always been a thorn in their side."
At this point, his tone suddenly shifted: "But that doesn't mean I believe what you've said. Hernandez isn't that foolish. He should know that once Commorragh loses the Three Great Families, even if he gets his wish and controls Commorragh as the 'Supreme Overlord,' a Commorragh without us would be a 'ruin' deprived of energy, Slaves, and soul supplies!"
"I believe what Hernandez wants... wouldn't be a ruin, would it?"
Charlie Sirian's gaze was calm as he watched Emrys: "Young human, you are very good at sophistry and reading people's hearts, but unfortunately, these tricks of yours are meaningless before me."
"Evidence?"
Emrys laughed, laughing very happily: "My words do not need evidence."
"I'm not here to negotiate with you, but to give you a choice." A contemptuous smile hung on the corners of his lips, and his gaze gradually turned cold: "Either you agree to the suggestion I'm about to propose, or... you refuse and hand me over to Hernandez. But I will recount every word I've told you to him without missing a single one. Then you and the other families had better hope that Hernandez is as far-sighted and mindful of the big picture as you are, and makes the same decision. Otherwise... when the day comes that the armies of my Imperium of Man press upon your borders, it will be the time for the total annihilation of your Three Great Families."
Emrys gave a very modest bow and smiled: "Alright, now you can make your choice, Lord Charlie Sirian."
"Are you threatening me?!"
Charlie Sirian's pupils constricted sharply, dark veins bulging on his forehead.
He couldn't remember how many years it had been since anyone dared to threaten and provoke his authority to his face like Emrys.
Given the power of the Sirian Family, even Supreme Overlord Viktor and his Black Heart Conspiracy Group wouldn't dare to be so arrogant and overbearing in his presence, let alone threaten to completely annihilate the Three Great Families!
"By yourself?!" This decisive Family Head squeezed the smooth white bone with his fingers, his knuckles turning white.
"Yes, by myself."
Emrys nodded nonchalantly.
"A mere Rogue Trader? A... Duke?"
Charlie Sirian let out a mocking sneer: "Do you know how many human nobles like you die in Commorragh every year? And how many nobles become our playthings and Slaves?"
"I don't know," Emrys shook his head honestly.
"Countless," Charlie Sirian leaned back on his throne of spinal bone, glancing sideways at Emrys with a cold laugh. "What is a Rogue Trader? Forget you—even the Chapter Masters of the Space Marines are nothing to us!"
"Is that so?"
Emrys tilted his head and asked curiously, "Then... what about Luis Dante, Chapter Master of the Blood Angels, and Marneus Augustus Calgar, Chapter Master of the Ultramarines?"
In the next second, the smile on Charlie Sirian's face froze.
"And Azrael, Chapter Master of the Dark Angels?"
""
""
Charlie Sirian's expression became somewhat stiff.
"True, this is Dark City Commorragh after all, and the Sirian Family is the head of the Three Great Families."
Emrys spoke as if to himself, "praising" him: "Naturally, you wouldn't care about a few mere Space Marine Chapter Masters of the Imperium of Man."
"Th-that's for sure!"
Charlie Sirian's face was stiff as he spoke, but he was still putting up a front.
"Right, I'm just a small Rogue Trader."
Emrys sighed, "The Imperium of Man is so large, not many people care about me..."
"Humph, a mere Rogue Trader. How many connections could you possibly have?"
Charlie Sirian forced himself to stay calm and gave a cold laugh.
Rogue Traders—they just do business and raid everywhere. How many people could they know?
Surely, those two just now were his limit!
However, just as Charlie Sirian was thinking this, he saw Emrys say slowly, "The ones I know are just Roboute Guilliman, the Ultramarines Legion Master, King of the Five Hundred Worlds, Lord of Ultramar, Lord Commander of the Imperium, and the Primarch who rules all armies;"
"Lion El'Jonson, Lord of the Dark Angels Legion, the Lion of Caliban, and the First Primarch;"
"Corvus Corax, the Raven Lord and the Nineteenth Primarch;"
"Trazyn the Infinite of the Necron Nihilakh Dynasty;"
"And a relatively obscure C'tan;"
"Plus some Farseer from the Saim-Hann Aeldari Craftworld... well, just these 'minor figures.' I don't know many people, but... it shouldn't be too much trouble to kill you, right?"
"..."
"...???"
With every name Emrys spoke, Charlie Sirian's heart trembled.
By the end, he was almost numb.
Three Primarchs!
One of the most annoying Necron meddlers in the entire galaxy!
A... C'tan?!
There was even a damn Craftworld Aeldari involved!
Charlie Sirian's eyelids twitched violently. He was about to say Emrys was bluffing, but then...
Emrys slowly pulled out item after item from his private space.
"This was given to me by Chapter Master Dante. He said it's a relic of Sanguinius, the Primarch of the Blood Angels."
"This was given to me by Chapter Master Azrael of the Dark Angels..."
""
"This was given by Lion El'Jonson, this by Chapter Master Calgar, this by Roboute Guilliman, and this, and this, and this..."
Charlie Sirian's breathing grew rapid, his eyes turning red as he stared at those "holy relics"!
There were weapons from Craftworld Saim-Hann, relics of the Blood Angels, a replica of Lion El'Jonson's lion sword, secret scrolls of the Dark Angels, shards infused with the power of a C'tan, and Necron creations!
This dazzling array of extremely precious holy relics showed just how much each giver valued this man!
Charlie Sirian's face became extremely unsightly.
This is a fucking Rogue Trader?!
Are you sure he's not a hegemon ruling over some star sector?
Emrys was dangerous!
Extremely dangerous!
Charlie Sirian fully realized that this human was not as simple as he appeared on the surface.
At the same time, he also produced another thought.
To kill Emrys right here!
So what if his backing was immense? This was Commorragh!
It was the territory of the Drukhari!
No matter how powerful the Imperium of Man was, they could never dream of breaking into the Webway, let alone finding Commorragh.
However, just as Charlie Sirian was wary of the forces behind Emrys and considering whether to pull out the roots here...
Suddenly, without any warning, a surge of pure malice—a gaze containing enough chill to freeze the soul—seeped into his marrow!
"!!!"
Charlie Sirian's pupils constricted.
In his line of sight, opposite the highest stand, there was a strange figure in the shadows.
He wore a ridiculous costume that looked very funny, just like a Joker.
Yet this seemingly funny person in the Joker outfit was staring at him with a stern, warning gaze. His lips moved without making a sound, but a cold voice transmitted directly into his mind.
"If he dies, you die!"
Charlie Sirian's heart stopped suddenly, as if gripped by an invisible hand!
"A... Harlequin Troupe?!"
The Harlequin Troupe were followers of the Laughing God, one of the former Aeldari gods and the only surviving one.
Their relationship with the Drukhari was in a fragile state of symbiosis—like enemies and friends!
The ruling class of the Drukhari, such as the Archons, all deeply respected or feared the power and knowledge possessed by the Harlequins.
Harlequins could move freely in Commorragh, and usually, the Drukhari would not provoke them.
Because the Harlequins held the secrets of the Webway and were the only ones who could perform prophetic plays.
But now, the Harlequin Troupe, which never participated in Commorragh's politics, had actually appeared and was even threatening him?!
Charlie Sirian suddenly had an ominous premonition.
Could it be... that the Harlequin Troupe had already found the play that revealed the final fate of the Aeldari?"
The appearance of the Harlequin Troupe caused Charlie Sirian, who had been harboring murderous intent, to immediately regain his composure.
In the past history of Commorragh, one thing had been proven countless times.
That is, "never provoke a Joker"!
These mentally unstable Jokers wouldn't care about your identity or status.
Any target set upon by a Joker would be found and killed, even if they hid in the corners of the Milky Way Galaxy!
Sacrifice?
No, the Jokers didn't care about sacrifice.
In the eyes of the Jokers, everything they did was for that legendary, ethereal, and mysterious Final Performance!
In just a few seconds, a storm almost brewed in Charlie Sirian's mind.
Emrys, naturally, noticed the shock that flashed through Charlie Sirian's eyes for a moment; he... seemed to have seen something unbelievable?
Emrys's gaze drifted toward the opposite side of the highest spectator stand.
An Aeldari dressed in a garish, ridiculous Joker costume stood as if in the void of the shadows.
Seeing Emrys's gaze, that Joker very gentlemanly took off his colorful hat and bowed to him in respect, while an exaggerated curve rose on his pale face, painted with blood-red lips.
It looked like a smile, yet also like a cry.
Then, this Joker slowly receded into the shadows, as if he had never appeared.
"You... know 'them'?"
Charlie Sirian noticed the Joker's gesture of tipping his hat and bowing to Emrys, and his expression suddenly turned somewhat ugly.
"The Harlequin Troupe? I only have a bit of understanding." Although Emrys didn't know why he was being watched by the Harlequin Troupe, it didn't stop him from being cryptic, with a meaningful smile on his face: "Rumor has it, they are an organization loyal to Cegorach, the Laughing God, searching for the 'drama' that can reveal the final fate of the Aeldari, right?"
"...You indeed know!"
Hearing these words, Charlie Sirian's heart sank abruptly.
This was a secret of the Drukhari / Dark Aeldari, not some common knowledge.
If he only knew about the Harlequin Troupe, it might not be much, but to know even the final goal of the Harlequin Troupe so clearly... that meant this human's relationship with the Harlequin Troupe, no, perhaps with Cegorach, was far closer than he imagined!
"What else do you know?!"
Charlie Sirian was shocked that a Rogue Trader could know so many secrets.
"Well, as for what I should and shouldn't know, I know a thing or two... or perhaps a billion."
Emrys said very modestly.
Who told him he transmigrated from the Narrative Layer? Of course he knew a billion bits of everything.
This composure, along with the somewhat flippant words and the unfathomable smile on Emrys's face, undoubtedly became the most powerful evidence in the eyes of the treacherous and cunning Charlie Sirian, causing his mind to wander with possibilities.
First, the Supreme Overlord Viktor was secretly "imprisoned" by the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group.
Then the Black Heart Conspiracy Group mysteriously fell apart, and then Hernandez wanted a powerful human noble.
Finally, the Harlequin Troupe, who "never participate in politics"... all these clues made him feel as if he had unknowingly fallen into a huge web already woven by fate, and the Three Great Families and Commorragh were the targets of this web!
Could it be?!
Suddenly, the calculating Charlie Sirian thought of a possibility.
Could this also be a conspiracy directed and acted out by the Supreme Overlord Viktor himself!
The purpose being to use the hand of the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group to pull out the thorn that was the Three Great Families?
After all, Viktor had done similar things before!
At the thought of this possibility, Charlie Sirian suddenly felt a chill all over his body, as if he had fallen into an ice cellar hundreds of degrees below zero.
One must know that there was a saying in Commorragh.
You can offend anyone, but you must never offend Viktor, otherwise... this petty Supreme Overlord will let you experience what is called the Commorragh-style hospitality of Some Like It Hot!
*Gulp*... Charlie Sirian looked nervous, swallowed his saliva, and said with a somewhat ugly expression: "Viktor... was he really imprisoned?"
Looking at the nervous Charlie Sirian, Emrys suddenly guessed why this old fellow was acting so out of character.
He probably was terrified of Viktor and worried that this was another conspiracy.
"Well..." He gave a mysterious smile: "I can only tell you, this is also part of the plan."
Okay, understood!
Charlie Sirian closed his eyes and made a decision immediately.
"What help do you need?"
The effect is this good?
Looking at Charlie Sirian, whose attitude was completely different, as if he were a different person, even Emrys couldn't help but feel emotional.
It had to be Viktor; look at how he had trained people!
Once bitten, twice shy; that described Viktor perfectly. In the tens of thousands of years this old schemer ruled Commorragh, who knows how many conspiracies he played? He almost gave people PTSD!
This is very good!
As for whether Viktor was really dead or truly imprisoned, he didn't care.
Emrys nodded and said, "No, I didn't come here to seek your help, Lord Sirian."
"Not seeking help?" These words made Charlie Sirian freeze for a few seconds, then he frowned: "Do you know that because of your antics, the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group has decided to get serious? They have dispatched a large number of Elite Troops to wipe out the Rebels!"
"I know."
Emrys nodded slightly and said, "In terms of scale, the military force the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group has deployed to completely wipe us out is enough to handle a small-scale conventional war. They really think highly of me."
"Since you know, and you've risked coming to see me, yet it's not to seek help, then what is it for?"
Now, even the seasoned Charlie Sirian was confused by Emrys.
"I hope that at the necessary moment, the Three Great Families can choose to stand by." Emrys chuckled and said.
"Stand by?"
Charlie Sirian frowned deeply; he still couldn't understand the significance of the request Emrys proposed.
Even if the Three Great Families stood by, could a mere band of Rebels really defeat the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group?
"Yes, just stand by."
Emrys said calmly: "You don't need to do anything, just be an observer."
"It's that simple?" Charlie Sirian said, laughing out of sheer absurdity: "You went through all that trouble, risking capture to see me, and convinced me, just to... let us stand by?"
"If I were to propose now that I hope you give us substantial help to defeat the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group, would you agree?"
Emrys asked in return.
"No." Charlie Sirian said coldly: "I'm not that foolish. I won't gamble my entire family on something with such a small probability."
"Exactly, that's why I proposed... standing by."
Emrys said leisurely: "I don't need you to provide help, nor will I ask you to do anything. I just hope that you and the other two families can maintain a relatively neutral attitude in our war with the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group. This request... isn't difficult, is it?"
"It's not difficult, it's very easy."
Charlie Sirian nodded, his expression relaxing a bit: "If it's just that, we can certainly do it."
"When this war is over, I believe... you and the other two great families will make the right choice." Absolute confidence flowed in Emrys's eyes.
"Heh, you're that confident you can defeat the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group?"
Charlie Sirian sneered, his tone full of disbelief.
In fact, it was true; in the tens of thousands of years of dark rule in Commorragh, there had been no shortage of Rebels from the bottom.
But, how many succeeded?
The answer was... Zero!
"Then let us... wait and see."
Emrys chuckled and said, "Anyway, no matter what the final outcome is, you won't lose anything, will you?"
Charlie Sirian smiled, looking at this human and finding him very interesting.
"Fine, I promise you."
He also felt a bit of interest: "I'd like to see if you can overturn the order and rules of Commorragh... that have existed for tens of thousands of years!"
The moment he stepped out of the Hall of Agony, Verion still felt a lingering fear in his heart.
Looking back at the wall embedded with countless skeletons, he couldn't help but swallow hard, his eyes still filled with thick dread.
It couldn't be helped; the more noble and pure one's bloodline used to be, the more one revered order and rules!
And he, as the only remaining descendant of the former "Royal Family," had a fear of the Sirian Family carved deep into his marrow.
The Sirian Family had been the head of the Three Great Families ruling this place since the time of the Ida Empire.
They had even once competed with the Supreme Overlord Viktor for dominance over Commorragh.
After this incident, Verion thoroughly admired Emrys.
He's got so much damn nerve!
In the last ten thousand years, there had never been a human who dared to threaten the Sirian Family!
But now there was!
One moment he's looting their factory, and the next he's running into their territory to threaten them, yet he still walked out unscathed.
This was simply a "miracle"!
If it weren't for the fact that the Drukhari never believed in "gods," he might have lit a stick of incense for the departed Aeldari gods right then and there.
Of course, Verion still found it difficult to understand why Emrys would go through such a long ordeal and risk his life to meet the power-holders of the Sirian Family just for a "meaningless promise."
What was the point of this?
He really wanted to ask Emrys what the point of doing this was.
Not only was he confused, but the succubus Anna also couldn't understand Emrys's intentions.
"Do you all feel that doing this is meaningless?" Emrys's gaze drifted to the side as he patted Verion's shoulder. "In Commorragh, a promise without any exchange of interests is equivalent to being meaningless, right?"
"No, no... I believe you. There must be some plan behind this."
At this moment, Verion no longer had his previous arrogance; his tone was filled with forced smiles and caution.
After all, the strength Emrys displayed, combined with Charlie Sirian's attitude toward him, made Verion realize he was just a small fry. Ambition aside... it was good enough just To Live!
It had to be said that in terms of "knowing when to yield," Verion was indeed very skilled.
No wonder he could survive so long in Commorragh with the identity of a descendant of the Durukari royal bloodline without being killed.
Being cowardly had its benefits, and Verion was a prime example.
"It's normal that you don't understand," Emrys said calmly. "We can't just create enemies; we need to form a 'united front' in a roundabout way, and the Three Great Families... are an excellent choice."
"United... front?"
Anna roughly understood the meaning of the term, and then, as if thinking of something, she asked curiously, "So, when you asked me to secretly contact the Lilitu Sisterhood earlier, it was for the same reason?"
"Something like that."
Emrys nodded slightly and said, "To put it simply, our strength is still very weak. We can't define all nobles as enemies. Otherwise, before we can achieve our ideals, we'll likely be attacked by everyone. That's not a situation I want to see."
A great man once said this.
So-called politics is about making as many friends as possible and as few enemies as possible; it's a very sharp insight.
The banner they raised to the outside world was to overthrow the old rule and establish a new order.
But this "order" also needed the support of "nobles."
They must not categorize all nobles as enemies, or it would only lead the newly born Free Liberation Front to a failure of being besieged. Similarly, an "uprising" could not have only enemies; they needed "companions."
He took the risk to see the Sirian Family, who should have been the enemy's greatest asset. It seemed like there was no actual gain, but... was that really the case?
Getting the Three Great Families to remain neutral was, in essence, already an invisible help!
Secondly, this was also to set the stage for the subsequent situation!
By doing this, he was showing his stance to the Three Great Families: even if the Rebel Army won in the future, they would still be "friends" of the Three Great Families!
In this way, on an invisible level, the Rebel Army had secured the stance of some of the "nobles."
With the current strength of the Free Liberation Front, even if they made demands, it would be hard for the Three Great Families to take them seriously. So, it was better to take the next best thing: proactively state their attitude and use that attitude to gain an advantage in the next negotiation!
This was the reason why Emrys had to risk seeing the Sirian Family before the second suppression campaign!
"Can we... really win?"
Anna was silent for a long time, asking with a bit of caution and a bit of hope.
"Yes!"
Emrys looked ahead and said in a deep voice, "Trust me, we will definitely win!"
On the eve of the second suppression campaign!
The Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group did not conduct a fast, accurate, and ruthless decisive battle as they had in the past.
They chose to openly announce the deeds of the Rebel Army in the Painful Nest and then grandly led their army to the front lines!
Meshal's intention was very simple and clear.
He wanted the other restless low-level Half-breeds, Slaves, and even the neutral nobles and Conspiracy Groups to see the true strength of the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group. This wasn't a war; it was a "show of force"!
"Large-scale enemy life signatures detected! At least... from over a dozen directions!"
Cales's voice contained a hint of undetectable trembling. The scouting squad he led had already discovered legions totaling tens of thousands of soldiers gathering from several directions: "There are... a large number of fighters, artillery, and armored units!"
On the holographic map, the crimson arrows representing the enemy were like dozens of red-hot knives, stabbing fiercely toward this place from different directions!
The solitary "Painful Nest" was like prey caught in a spider's web, waiting for its fate to be consumed!
Judging by the scale alone, the troop strength was hundreds of times greater than that of the last Hunting squad!
It was clear how thoroughly Meshal had prepared for this "Carnage."
From heavy infantry regiments to assault teams, Incubi assassination squads, Alien mercenary groups, cannon fodder slave regiments, and so on... In addition, there were even fighter formations specifically for large-scale warfare, such as Raiders, Ravagers, Voidravens, and Razorwing Jetfighters!
And in the ground armored units, there were Chronos Parasite Engines, talos pain engines, and armored vehicle groups sufficient to rival the Imperium of Man's Baneblades and Leman Russ super-heavy tanks!
It was no exaggeration to say that the military force deployed by the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group this time was more than enough to destroy a Hive City of the Imperium of Man!
Let alone a mere low-level community?
"Damn it, what's there to be afraid of!" Gork slammed his fist against the edge of the sand table, his eyes bloodshot as he growled, "Fine, let them come! Let my newly installed axe have a taste! Who's afraid of who!"
Despite his fierce words, anyone could sense the trace of helplessness in his tone.
This wasn't fear, but an instinctive reaction to realizing one's own insignificance when facing an irreversible situation.
The atmosphere in the entire command center suddenly dropped to freezing point.
Many were even wondering if they, such tiny, ant-like beings, could really break through the eternal darkness of Commorragh.
"Comrades." Just as the atmosphere was extremely oppressive, Emrys finally spoke. His voice was still steady, like a mountain standing firm before a tsunami, stabilizing everyone's spirits. "I know the enemy is strong—so strong it's suffocating. They can crush us like bugs."
Then, he raised his head, a glimmer of confidence shining in his eyes. "But don't forget, bugs... can also bite!"
"Furthermore, we are by no means insignificant bugs. This time... we are the hunters!"
"We want them to know!"
"From today on, the tables have turned—!"
Under the leadership of Meshal, the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group was unhurriedly applying layers of pressure.
Meshal possessed ample patience and absolute confidence.
At the same time, he had also deeply studied the fundamental reasons for the failure of the previous two suppression campaigns!
Carelessness!
Indeed, as Trueborn, they possessed a natural advantage and crushing superiority over Half-breeds and Slaves!
Their equipment was more sophisticated, their training superior, and there was an unbridgeable chasm in individual strength.
Given that, why did the previous two suppression campaigns end in total annihilation?
Meshal summarized the reasons for the failures and absorbed the lessons learned.
This time, under his leadership, the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group would display its true power!
"Grand Arbitrator, we have received the latest battle report from the front."
The reconnaissance squads sent by the Trueborn were like ghosts in the night, already lurking at various key points throughout the Painful Nest.
"The 37th, 42nd, and 58th Combat Companies of the Pain Walker Heavy Infantry Regiment encountered small enemy units at Fang Trail, Soul-Rending Valley, and the Corridor of Pain, respectively. All were easily routed. Commander Gary requests permission to pursue and completely annihilate the Rebel Army!"
As the communicator reported, a flicker of contempt crossed Meshal's eyes as he sat firmly at the command console. "Hah, using the same old tricks against me?"
The first two suppressions failed—once because of the recklessness of the Dark Eldar Warriors, and once because of The Skinner's carelessness.
But now, he would not fall for it.
"Order the Pain Walker Heavy Infantry Regiment to stand by and hold their positions!"
Meshal's cold, sharp gaze swept across the holographic tactical command platform. His calm tone seemed to harbor a heart-stopping storm of blood. "If anyone dares take a single step forward without my command, they will be beheaded!"
"Yes!"
The communicator hurriedly turned and left.
"Grand Arbitrator, why not let the Painful Walkers take the opportunity to expand our gains?" At this moment, a staff officer from the Conspiracy Group couldn't help but ask curiously. "We should take this chance to eliminate as many of the Rebel Army's effective forces as possible and leverage our advantages."
The advantage of the Drukhari lay in rapid and efficient strikes.
It was not in steady, slow advancement like this.
After all, there was a saying in Commorragh: if you die fast enough and your body is transported back, a Blood Singer might even be able to resurrect you to continue fighting in the next battle.
While the'steady and cautious' tactic could avoid falling into traps as much as possible, it also caused them to lose their greatest advantage!
Facing the staff officer's question, Meshal gave a cold laugh. "No, if we do that, we'll fall right into the enemy's trap!"
He raised his hand and pointed to several locations on the sand table. "The roads in the lower-tier communities extend in all directions, and there are numerous abandoned energy transport pipes, making the geography extremely complex. Once we rush in blindly, we will inevitably be ambushed!"
"The routed rebels are merely 'bait'!"
Meshal continued, "The enemy Commander's goal is to use this 'bait' to exploit our desire for a quick victory, drawing us into a pre-set encirclement. Then, they'll use the complex geography of the lower-tier communities and a large number of lower-tier rebels to split, surround, and annihilate us!"
As Hernandez's capable assistant, he was no inexperienced fool!
He had participated in many raiding wars externally. There were even a few glorious instances where, despite the powerful assault capabilities of the combined Imperium of Man Space Marine Chapters and the Astra Militarum, he had stubbornly led his Conspiracy Group to take down a Hive City.
To Meshal, the tactics used by the enemy leader were easily seen through at a glance; he naturally wouldn't fall into the pre-set trap!
The staff officers all had sudden realizations and then heaped praise upon the Grand Arbitrator's strategic vision.
Anyone else might have underestimated the enemy, acted impulsively, or been deceived.
But this time, the rebels had encountered Meshal!
He didn't just want victory; he wanted a crushing defeat! He wanted to grant the rebels despair!
"Without my command, no one is allowed to advance a single step!"
Meshal's voice suddenly rose, carrying a chill that seeped into the lungs. "I want to take it one fortress at a time! One fortress at a time! Surround this entire place, and don't let a single living thing out! I want them to taste the most unforgettable despair!"
The Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group's speed of advancement was so slow it was despair-inducing!
On the holographic sand table, the crimson area representing the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group spread and crawled like a cancer!
Advancing slowly from several directions, Wraithbone fortresses shimmering with eerie light rose one after another on the outskirts of the Painful Nest. As the suppressing forces advanced, every battle line and every trench was filled in by a vast number of military fortresses!
Slow, yet resolute and steady, without a single flaw to be seen!
This was Meshal's tactic!
"Their advancement is slow, but... we simply cannot stop them." Cales, the Commander of the frontline guerrilla squads, spoke with a voice heavy with exhaustion. "Our guerrilla harassment has almost no effect; they ignore us entirely and just keep compressing our living space. If this continues... within a month, our activity space will be compressed to the core area, and then..."
He didn't finish, but everyone present already knew the outcome.
Once the Rebel Army's activity space was compressed into the core area of the Painful Nest, the result waiting for them would be to be caught like rats in a trap and completely wiped out!
"Damn it, these nobles are so despicable!"
Gork roared irritably, "Cowards! They just use the slave regiments and those Alien mercenary groups as cannon fodder!"
"They're grinding down our effective forces, while those Trueborn stay hidden in the rear where we can't reach them!"
The frontal army he led had completely stalled against the Conspiracy Group led by Meshal!
Meshal's seasoned and ruthless tactics left Gork extremely frustrated. Whenever they found an opportunity and tried to penetrate the enemy's rear for an encirclement and annihilation, they were blocked not only by massive amounts of slave cannon fodder but also by countless aerial supports.
Aerial formations composed of Raiders, Ravagers, and Razorwings bombed everything mercilessly, including the Slaves and Alien mercenaries!
After several encounters, Meshal's elite forces remained intact, while the Rebel Army suffered heavy losses.
This feeling of having nowhere to exert force was even more agonizing than facing ten thousand troops!
"Pioneer, what should we do?!"
Gork, Cales, and the other members of the Free Liberation Front's committee all turned their gazes toward Emrys.
All eyes, filled with hope, were once again focused on one person.
"Advancing layer by layer with fortresses as the core—Meshal's tactics are indeed excellent."
Emrys's gaze fell on a location he had already envisioned. "They want to starve us out and compress our living space step by step, but unfortunately, they forgot that a cage... cannot hold a 'Beast'!"
Gork looked at Emrys. This young human had already led the empty-handed Rebel Army to perform miracles several times.
This time, he still firmly believed that a miracle would happen!
"Don't they want to trap us to death?"
Emrys gave a cold laugh, his finger suddenly stabbing onto the sand table at the massive city symbolizing the nobility. "In that case, let's give them what they want. We'll lead an elite force to jump right out of the encirclement, take all our heavy equipment, and strike directly at the heart—like a sharp blade stabbing into the enemy's 'heart'!"
Breaking out of the inner lines and shifting to the outer lines?!
Emrys's move could be described as nothing short of extraordinary.
Even the most audacious Gork was shocked by this step of the plan.
He looked at the location Emrys was pointing to; it was none other than the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group's home base, the place where a large number of nobles resided... Du Hun City!
This was the headquarters of the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group!
And now, the "Pioneer" actually intended to lead an elite force to break out directly from the besieged inner line of the "Painful Nest," utilize the Webway, and strike straight into the enemy's home base. This... was too risky!
"Pioneer, this... the risk is too great!"
Gork couldn't help but speak up: "If you're discovered while deep in the enemy's rear..." "There are no 'ifs'!" Emrys cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. "Only by being unexpected can we find life in the face of death!"
Facing the overwhelming military pressure of the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group, he had known the outcome for a long time.
No matter what, this was no longer an enemy that could be dealt with by tactics alone. After all, the gap was right there. The superior equipment of the Trueborn, their massive reserves of reinforcements, heavy artillery, and air superiority were definitely not things that Half-breeds and Slaves could overcome simply by being unafraid of death.
Therefore, the only way to win this war was to... learn from the ideologies of the "predecessors"!
To grasp the initiative of the battlefield in one's own hands!
Since they couldn't win on the inner lines, they would shift to the outer lines and smash the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group's home base to pieces!
Furthermore, Emrys's decision to take such a risky move was not without careful consideration.
Currently, the majority of the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group's strength was concentrated at the Painful Nest, which meant their rear was "hollowed out."
Meshal's decision was correct, but he had overlooked one point.
That is, while the slow advance of the frontline troops could indeed minimize the chance of falling into an enemy trap, it also meant that they needed to consume a vast amount of supplies every day. And the source of those supplies... was Du Hun City!
Once the resource supply from Du Hun City was cut off, Meshal would see his army of a million collapse in a short time.
Despite the extreme risk, Gork, who held infinite expectations for Emrys, still said without hesitation: "In that case, I believe in your strategy. Let me personally lead the squad deep behind enemy lines, Pioneer!"
However, facing Gork's initiative to volunteer, Emrys shook his head: "No, since I proposed this plan, I must be the one to execute it. Furthermore, the situations faced deep behind enemy lines are more complex; only I can handle them."
"No!"
Cales, standing nearby, immediately refused sternly: "The Pioneer must not take such a risk! I believe it should be left to Gork!"
Not just him, but the other committee members also expressed their refusal.
"Pioneer, let me go!" Gork said in a heavy voice. "The rebel army can lose me, and it can fail, but... it absolutely cannot lose you! Even if we fail this time, as long as you are here, I believe the banner of freedom... will eventually flutter atop the highest spires of Commorragh!"
"No more arguing!"
Emrys slammed his hand on the table, his eyes burning: "It's settled! No one is allowed to speak of it again!"
"You, Gork!" He turned to look at Gork, Cales, and the other selected rebel generals. "Your mission is to continue attracting the enemy here, delaying their advance as much as possible, and don't show any weaknesses!"
"Cales, you lead the guerrilla squad and find a way to insert yourselves between Du Hun City and the Painful Nest!"
"Once Meshal's Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group attempts to withdraw elites to reinforce their rear, immediately launch a pincer attack with Gork. We'll besiege the point to strike their reinforcements!"
"And I will be the 'nail' driven into the enemy's heart!"
In Emrys's eyes, there seemed to be a series of meticulous calculations. "Only I can draw the enemy's attention!"
In this plan, he... was the piece of "fat meat" used to lure the snake out of its hole.
This tactic was called... Repairing the gallery roads openly while sneaking through Chencang!
Du Hun City remained as it always was.
The nobles spent their days and nights in song and dance, indulging in the heights of luxury, pleasure, and lust.
As for the siege of the Painful Nest?
No one cared. Or rather, from the very beginning, the nobles didn't believe those beasts from the bottom had the ability to even touch the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group.
And in fact, it was so; Meshal would announce the day's achievements in the city every day.
"If you ask me, Meshal is being too cautious." In a magnificent banquet hall, a large number of high-ranking nobles gathered, exchanging toasts as they discussed this rare bit of "fun."
"Indeed, wouldn't it be over if he just pressed everything forward?"
Another noble voiced his opinion: "They're just beasts from the bottom; is there a need for such caution?"
Although Meshal's approach was steady, it also made these nobles very dissatisfied.
After all, the massive amount of resources consumed every day was being paid for by them!
"Forget it, forget it. Anyway, those beasts won't live for many more days."
An old noble spoke with utter contempt, holding high a wine glass filled with fresh blood of pain. "Let us toast to the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group and the great Archon Hernandez!"
"For pain!"
However, just as the nobles raised their glasses to drink, a sudden change occurred!
A thunderous roar echoed as a massive explosion, carrying raging flames, burst directly into the magnificent banquet hall!
Amidst the terrifying dust and smoke, the nobles were all dumbfounded, standing in place, not knowing what had happened.
Until a human entered their sight.
"Good evening, nobles."
Emrys was quite polite, a smile on his face. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Supreme Military Commissioner and Political Commissioner of the Free Liberation Front. Of course, you may also call me by my name... Emrys Valshius."
Emrys?!
The stunned nobles immediately remembered—wasn't this the human wanted by the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group?
"How bold of you!" A young Dark Aeldari, dressed in finery and looking like the eldest son of some family, glared at him. "Good, you actually dare to run right in front of us! Guards, seize him!"
Emrys smiled without saying a word, just watching him perform.
"Guards!"
"Someone, come here!"
The young noble shouted several times, but no one responded.
At this moment, he seemed to realize something, and a large amount of cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
"Go on, why have you stopped shouting?"
Emrys stared at him with a beaming smile. "Even if you scream until your throat is raw today, no one is coming."
As the dust cleared, the nobles in the banquet hall finally discovered that they were surrounded by a group of Half-breeds, Slaves, and Aliens!
The bloodthirsty gazes made the nobles' legs go weak.
No matter how they tried, they couldn't imagine that the beasts who were supposed to be surrounded by Meshal would actually appear here!
"Emrys, what exactly do you want to do?!"
An old noble took a deep breath, trying his best to stay calm, his words carrying a hint of a threat. "This isn't the Painful Nest, much less the Soul-Rending Corridor. This is Du Hun City, the city of My Lord Archon Hernandez. You had better consider the consequences!"
"Yes, I've already considered them."
Emrys nodded thoughtfully, then revealed a smile. "Since I've already offended Hernandez anyway, I don't care if I offend him a bit more. Besides... I kill the nobles of the Imperium of Man without hesitation, so why would the Aeldari be any different?"
Honestly, he really wanted to see if there was any difference between the nobles of the Dark Aeldari and the nobles of the Imperium of Man.
But unfortunately... there didn't seem to be any.
Before the butcher's knife, the behavior of nobles was strikingly consistent.
"Kill them. Leave none alive."
Emrys waved his hand dismissively, giving the order to the warriors who had been waiting for a long time.
The elite warriors, a mixed force of Half-breeds, Slaves, and Aliens from the bottom, raised their butcher's knives against the trembling, blustering nobles and charged at them with cruel grins!
"Wait, wait!"
Seeing that Emrys was completely unmoved and did not fear Hernandez at all, this veteran Drukhari noble's forehead was dripping with cold sweat: "Lord Emrys, I think we can discuss this, what do you think?"
"Oh?"
Emrys raised an eyebrow, seemingly intrigued: "How shall we discuss it?"
Open to negotiation? Then there was hope!
In the veteran noble's dim eyes, a spark of hope suddenly surged. He hurriedly introduced himself: "I am Lucien Green, the Family Head of the Green Family. You must have heard of us?!"
"The Green Family? Sorry, never heard of them."
A look of annoyance appeared on Emrys's face: "Stop talking in circles, or I'll kill you first!"
"Wait, wait—" Lucien Green shouted in panic, "The Green Family is one of the high-ranking noble families in Commorragh. Our family controls a vast amount of starport resources. Surely you understand what that means?"
A family that controlled starport resources meant they had a large fleet, including transportation and shipping routes—it could not be more important.
Seeing Emrys's expression soften slightly, Lucien Green let out a sigh of relief and continued: "Lord Emrys, as long as you can spare me, I am willing to offer you a complete navigation route, including a fully-staffed fleet, as my investment—is that acceptable?"
"In... vestment?"
Emrys's eyes narrowed slightly, his tone laced with a faint, almost imperceptible air of danger.
"Lord Emrys—" Lucien Green suddenly lowered his voice, took a few careful steps forward, and said cautiously, "I understand. You've caused such a huge commotion for nothing more than profit, right?"
"Heh."
Emrys gave a half-smile, yet he did not deny it.
"Hahaha, no one cares about these beasts at the bottom. I understand what you mean." Lucien Green chuckled craftily, like a cunning fox: "As long as you agree, I can fully sponsor a batch of armaments for you. When the time comes and we succeed, we can share the spoils. What do you think?"
Looking at the treacherous old noble, Emrys nodded: "I see. You're here to talk business with me."
"You could put it that way."
Lucien Green grinned.
But soon, his smile was frozen forever. His head—plucked off by Emrys's bare hands—was held in his palm. His murderous gaze fell upon the other nobles: "Kill—!"
It turned out that Huang Chao was right!
The moment the Slaves raised their butcher knives, the bloodlines, wealth, and status that the nobles were so proud of would all vanish into thin air!
"No, don't kill me—!"
"How dare you! I am a noble!"
"You commoners, let me go!"
"No, don't—save me!"
The magnificent banquet hall seemed to have turned into a living hell, with blood splattering and wails echoing everywhere.
The once-high-and-mighty nobles, in the face of Slaves filled with hatred and rage, could no longer care about composure, etiquette, or noble bearing. One by one, they seemed to go mad, pushing and trampling each other in an attempt to escape the demons' butcher knives.
These powerless nobles had long since succumbed to a life of luxury and debauchery, possessing not a shred of resistance.
They were like piglets, being roughly dragged by the enraged Slaves, Half-breeds, and Alien, leaving trails of blood on the golden floor tiles!
"Noble?"
A slave covered in scars grabbed a noble who was trying to flee and slammed him hard onto the ground.
"Don't, don't kill me!" This Drukhari, bloated like a pig, had a face covered in snot and tears. He knelt and kowtowed humbly to the slave who controlled his life, completely abandoning his noble honor: "I, I can give you money! Give you souls! As long as you spare me, please! I beg you!"
Little did he know, mentioning that only made things worse.
At the mention of this, the slave became even more enraged. He slashed a blade into the noble's shoulder blade, blood spraying onto his face. Listening to the noble's agonizing screams, he said with a grimace: "Now you know to beg for mercy?! Too late! It's exactly the nobles I'm slaughtering!"
With that, he did not hesitate and raised his blade to strike again!
One strike, two strikes, ten strikes—
The bloated, pig-like noble's screams gradually faded into silence as he was hacked into mincemeat!
"A-Emrys—you're crazy!"
"Aaaah—you're dead! Emrys!"
"Lord Hernandez won't let you get away with this!"
"Commorragh won't let you get away with this!"
Knowing they could not survive, these nobles completely gave up on begging for mercy and instead used every vicious curse they could think of to condemn this damned human.
Soon, in less than ten minutes.
The hundreds of nobles in the entire banquet hall were slaughtered. Blood almost formed streams, flowing along the crevices of the golden floor tiles. The once-luxurious vessels and cruel bone utensils were also filled with noble blood!
A chilling air of slaughter lingered in the air.
"Is it over?"
Emrys raised his eyelids, looked at the banquet hall that had been cleared, and nodded with satisfaction: "Everyone has done well. We must let these nobles know—we are no longer lowly ants and beasts; our blades can slaughter them just the same!"
"Long live freedom!"
"Long live freedom!"
"Long live freedom!"
Everyone roared in unison.
Emrys had proven to them more than once—nobles were also human; they too would die, feel fear, and beg for mercy!
It was them!
These Slaves, Half-breeds, and Alien, whom the nobles regarded as beasts, had personally shattered the iron chains around their necks and broken the myth of the Trueborn!
The Trueborn were not noble!
Looking at the crowd whose morale was at its peak, Emrys nodded slightly. This morale and rage would become the most powerful fuel. And next—what he had to do was ignite this decadent city and turn the spark of revolution into a prairie fire!
"Pioneer, what do we do next!"
A slave's eyes burst with fanatical light, his breathing heavy, his eyes bloodshot. He seemed to be desperately suppressing an impulse deep within his heart: "Whatever you say, we'll do! We believe in you!"
Yes, through victory after victory, reform after reform, and campaign after campaign, Emrys's status in their hearts could now even rival the Aeldari gods who, in legends, protected the Ida Empire. No—perhaps he had even surpassed those gods!
After all, the gods had not saved them from their pain, nor had they seen their tears. But Emrys—he saw them. In the darkest and bloodiest place in the Milky Way Galaxy, there was the most suffering group of people.
He came, bringing light and hope!
It was he who led them out of their stupor, shattered the myth of the Trueborn, and broke the chains around their necks.
The elite squad led by Emrys, under the enhancement of his magic, was like—meanwhile...
Meshal, the Iron Thorn Commander on the front lines, was currently reveling in the effectiveness of his "Cage Tactics."
His strategy of steady progress and consolidating every step had rendered the Rebel Army's best tactics—interspersing encirclement and luring the enemy deep—completely useless.
Instead, for every battle, the Rebel Army was forced to launch frontal assaults. Waiting for them, however, were bombardments from several aerial formations and the military fortresses of armored regiments. In just a few short days, the Rebel Army had suffered extremely heavy losses!
As time went on, an even more serious problem emerged.
The Rebel Army's resources, manpower, and morale had taken a near-devastating hit. Just as Gork and the other generals had predicted, their living space was being rapidly compressed!
Looking at the holographic sand table, which was densely packed with red walls symbolizing his own side, surrounding a few scattered blue dots, Meshal felt as if he could already foresee it: in seven days at most, these rebels would be completely wiped out by him!
Of course, he hadn't achieved this without paying a price.
Such a strategy of steady progress and consolidating every step placed an extremely heavy burden on the transport of supplies from the deep rear, which had already drawn the dissatisfaction of many nobles.
These nobles believed that against a mere Rebel Army, they should just steamroll over them. Why go to such great lengths and be so cautious?
But in Meshal's eyes, this bunch of nobles was not only ignorant but also utterly stupid.
This was war!
Since it was war, the goal was to win. For victory, he could ignore the cost.
As for the lost resources?
It didn't matter. Once these rebels were suppressed, he would squeeze what was lost out of these beasts several, dozens, or even hundreds of times over!
"Report!"
"Urgent report!"
Suddenly, Meshal's good mood was shattered by a piercing voice. His brow furrowed slightly as he looked at the signalman who had burst into the command room. With a displeased expression, he asked, suppressing his anger, "Who is it? Which unit disobeyed my orders and got surrounded by the rebels?!"
Over the past few days, the rebels' resistance had been extremely stubborn. There were even several occasions where, despite being completely surrounded, they fought to the last man. This kind of fighting will made even the battle-hardened Meshal feel a chill.
Sometimes, he couldn't help but wonder.
Just what kind of ideology had Emrys instilled in these beasts to make them charge forward regardless of life or death, sending themselves to die one after another?
"No, it's not the frontline units!"
The signalman's urgent voice pulled Meshal back to reality. "It's Du Hun City! Du Hun City is under heavy assault by an unidentified main enemy force! The opponent's firepower is extremely fierce, and dozens of families have already been slaughtered!"
...
When this emergency communication came through, Meshal almost thought his hearing organs were malfunctioning.
"What?! That's impossible!"
He slammed his palm onto the command table, his eyes wide. "The main rebel force is clearly besieged by us right here! Who is reporting false military intelligence?! I'll have your head!"
"My—My Lord, the news is real."
At this moment, the staff officer said tremblingly, "The source of the information is—it's Lord Hernandez. He is questioning what on earth we are doing and ordered us to immediately lead the main force back to reinforce and deal with that main enemy force that broke into Du Hun City."
"Impossible! This is impossible!"
Even at this moment, Meshal still found it inconceivable. He couldn't believe how the rebels he had surrounded could have grown wings and flown to Du Hun City, deep in the rear of his great army, to run amok!
"My Lord, according to the identification signals..." The signalman swallowed hard and said, "It's—it's the leader of the Free Liberation Front, Emrys Valshius. They have raised their banners."
Buzzing!!!
Meshal felt as if he had been struck by lightning. His head buzzed as if tens of thousands of bees were flying inside.
"Oh no, we've been tricked!"
He immediately realized he had been played.
Because of the previous two instances where underestimating the enemy led to total annihilation, the opponent had gambled that they would be cautious this time, advancing step by step. Thus, right under their noses, they had pulled off a brilliant "Golden Cicada Shedding its Skin" maneuver!
The rebels in the Painful Nest were bait!
Their true target was Du Hun City in the deep rear, to completely cut off their supplies!
And just then.
A psionic communication, like a cold storm, blasted directly into Meshal's mind: "Meshal, you have disappointed me too much!
Is your front line made of paper?! How could the main enemy force appear outside my Du Hun City? Immediately! Right now! I don't care what you're doing, pull them back for me and finish off Emrys, or I'll have your skin!"
The communication ended, and the atmosphere in the command room was extremely oppressive.
"Lord Meshal, what... what should we do?"
The staff officer beside him hesitated for a moment before looking at Meshal.
Meshal felt utterly bitter.
What else could be done?
He wasn't willing either!
Retreating now meant that all their efforts would be for nothing!
All their hard work would be wasted, but—what else could they do?
If he didn't go back, Hernandez really would skin him alive!
"Announce to the whole army—"
Meshal sighed. "Except for the Slave Regiment, the Snakemen Mercenary Group, the Pain Walker Heavy Infantry Regiment, and the withdrawal of three Cronus Pain Engines, a talos pain engine, and ten Blade Winged Crows, the rest of the main force—all are to return to reinforce Du Hun City!"
After saying this, Meshal's straight back slowly slumped.
He knew that this battle—they had lost!
After announcing the retreat, Meshal did not dare to delay in the slightest. Although he knew that withdrawing troops would create holes in the front line, compared to Du Hun City, the slow progress at the front was insignificant.
He immediately ordered the Anvil Heavy Armored Group, which was closest to Du Hun City and originally served as a reserve, to act as the vanguard and return to reinforce Du Hun City at full speed!
However, this "Anvil" Heavy Armored Group little knew that on their way back, two regiments of the Rebel Army had already been waiting for a long time!
The Guerrilla Squad led by Cales reported their marching route, including weaponry and numbers, entirely to Gork, who was lying in wait halfway.
"Finally, they're here!"
Gork, the former arena champion, whose already ferocious face immediately became full of murderous intent, grinned savagely. "Order all ambush squads: hold it in for me, and only strike once they're close! If anyone dares to take a step back, I'll be the first to hack him to death, no Pioneer needed!"
This Anvil Group, rushing headlong into the reinforcement route, fell into the trap without knowing it, becoming a fat sheep for the slaughter!
Besieging the point to strike the reinforcements—the one being struck is precisely you, the "reinforcements"!
Hmph.
Although Meshal had withdrawn most of his main forces, he still retained a considerable portion of his strength to continue the siege.
The rest of the main forces were all advancing toward Du Hun City at the fastest possible speed.
Even though the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group had withdrawn most of its main forces, the remaining strength was still terrifying. Relying on previously established military structures like Wraithbone fortresses and trenches, they could still easily suppress the rebels of the Painful Nest.
Not to mention anything else, just the Chronos Parasite Engine and the talos pain engine were insurmountable chasms for the rebels!
These were armored units comparable to the Empire's super-heavy tanks, not a huge gap that could be bridged by flesh and blood, fighting spirit, or crude, inferior weapons.
It was precisely because of this that Meshal felt exceptionally at ease.
"My Lord Grand Arbitrator, there is one thing I don't understand."
A young noble staff officer who had come along asked very humbly, "Since you already know that this is a trap set by the rebels, why leave a portion of our forces to continue surrounding this place?"
"Very good, Zephlyn." Meshal looked up at this young man of his own race, feeling a trace of gratification in his heart. He nodded slightly and said, "The fact that you can realize this proves you are already a qualified staff officer."
"Thank you for the praise, My Lord Grand Arbitrator. I only wish to stay by your side and learn a bit more."
Zephlyn still maintained a humble and studious attitude.
This greatly increased Meshal's favor, who was accustomed to the extravagant and shameless habits of nobles. His eyes showed strong approval: "What I want to tell you is, don't be afraid of falling into the enemy's trap on the battlefield. Sometimes, you just need to think a little, and you can use the enemy's trap to create trouble for them. Do you understand what I mean?"
Zephlyn thought for a moment, somewhat hesitant, and tentatively said, "You mean, since the rebels can use the Painful Nest as bait, we can also use this place as bait to lure them in?"
"Exactly, you are truly clever, Zephlyn."
Meshal was growing more and more appreciative of this junior from his family. It seemed that letting him follow him for training was the right decision.
"But, My Lord Grand Arbitrator, there is still one thing I don't understand." Zephlyn asked again, "Will the rebels really fall for it?"
"They will, they definitely will!"
At this point, a glint flashed in Meshal's eyes as he sneered, "I've read the rebels' propaganda, based on freedom and dignity, to build an equal and fair social order and break the bloodline theory. I have to say... Emrys is really bold, but unfortunately, this rhetoric will become his shackles. If he doesn't come to rescue the Painful Nest, then the other restless lowly beasts will completely lose hope in the rebels. On the contrary, if they come, they will be walking into a trap. Either way, we won't lose!"
"Amazing! Brilliant!"
After listening, Zephlyn couldn't help but sincerely praise, "My Lord Grand Arbitrator, you truly live up to being Governor Hernandez's most powerful right-hand man!"
"Zephlyn... in the few days you follow by my side, I will do my utmost to nurture you." Suddenly, Meshal's eyes darkened slightly, and his tone carried an indescribable, desolate meaning: "How much you can learn depends entirely on your own efforts. The future of the Montoya Family... rests on you."
"Meshal... My Lord?"
Zephlyn was clever and immediately detected an unusual meaning in Meshal's tone.
It was like... he was making arrangements in advance!
"After this, My Lord Hernandez... will no longer tolerate me."
When Meshal said this, his tone showed no emotional fluctuation, as if he had long anticipated his own outcome.
"H-how could that be?!" Upon hearing this, Zephlyn was greatly shocked: "You... you are the Grand Arbitrator, second only to My Lord Hernandez in the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group, and... and you have contributed so much to the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group. How could My Lord Hernandez...?"
"If at first I was only suspicious, now... I am certain."
Meshal sighed deeply, his eyes filled with exhaustion and helplessness: "My existence has already caused trouble for My Lord Hernandez, or rather... the current Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group no longer needs a sufficiently formidable Grand Arbitrator, but a more obedient person. Do you understand what I mean?"
Zephlyn's mouth hung open, his eyes filled with disbelief.
He didn't understand. Meshal had dedicated nearly half his life to the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group and had nearly sacrificed his life several times.
Could it be that just because of one failure, he would be abandoned by My Lord Hernandez?
"Don't feel sad for me." Seeing his strange expression, Meshal had already guessed his thoughts and said calmly, "My ideal has been realized, and my death will only make the Montoya Family more glorious and honorable. It's a very worthwhile deal, isn't it?"
Ever since he joined the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group and met Hernandez, he had foreseen this scene.
Killing the hounds once the hares are caught is perfectly normal in Commorragh, isn't it?
"You, Zephlyn, are the future hope of the Montoya Family!"
Meshal patted his shoulder firmly, his solemn tone mixed with a bit of expectation: "I hope that in the future, under your leadership, the Montoya Family can squeeze into the Three Great Noble Families, even surpass them!"
Zephlyn was speechless, lowering his head, but his pupils trembled.
He suddenly felt somewhat lost.
The Montoya Family had come this far entirely relying on Meshal's strategies.
It was he who step by step gained the trust of Governor Hernandez, rising from a lowly Trueborn Warrior, surviving countless life-and-death situations, to finally become the Grand Arbitrator. But now, he was about to lose his life because of one failure.
Was this really worth it?!
Zephlyn couldn't help but ask, "Meshal, My Lord, perhaps we..."
"Zephlyn!"
A sharp glare from Meshal made him swallow the rest of his words.
"Remember, we are forever loyal to the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group! The Montoya Family is forever loyal to the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group!"
His words carried a stern warning.
In his warning gaze, Zephlyn seemed to perceive something and fell silent.
But at the same time, a thought couldn't help but drift into his mind.
Perhaps the path Meshal had chosen was wrong from the start. Nobles cannot change Commorragh. What can truly change Commorragh should be... the people at the bottom!
This was a bold idea that suddenly emerged after he personally experienced the front lines.
But Zephlyn knew that this idea must never be spoken aloud. Otherwise, even if he were highly regarded, Meshal would not hesitate to abandon him!
Because, in Meshal's eyes, the family's interests were above all else, even his own life.
"Alright, you've been under a lot of pressure these past few days. Go out and rest a bit."
Meshal's tense expression softened slightly.
"Yes, Grand Arbitrator."
Zephlyn nodded and left, walking out of the Command Room.
He returned to his own Room somewhat disheartened. Under the dim light, Zephlyn sat dazedly on the bed, his mind still replaying the words Meshal had said to him and Hernandez's ruthless, merciless tactics.
"Meshal, My Lord, is this... really right?"
He couldn't help but doubt, muttering to himself, "Perhaps we are all wrong. Perhaps... those rebels are right. Bloodline, order, nobles—these are the greatest cancers entrenched in Commorragh!"
Zephlyn Montoya was very young and also very studious.
He was out of place among other nobles, perhaps because, in the eyes of many nobles, the Montoya Family's foundation was still weak; the only one capable of standing on the stage was none other than the Grand Arbitrator of the Iron Thorns Conspiracy Group, Meshal Montoya.
As for the others in the family?
To summarize in one sentence... they were just waiting around to die.
Zephlyn was extremely intelligent and possessed a greedy thirst for knowledge, often staying by Meshal's side to receive teachings of knowledge and experience.
He had also followed Commorragh's raiding ships, personally participating in several raiding operations and witnessing the vastness and danger of the Milky Way Galaxy.
But instead of making Zephlyn afraid, these experiences only stimulated a greater curiosity within him.
During his time in Commorragh, he saw the corrupt and degenerate Drukhari / Dark Aeldari, and thus, a thought gradually began to sprout in the depths of his heart.
Was there a way to save Commorragh?
To save the Drukhari / Dark Aeldari being "consumed" by Slaanesh, to save a race that was degenerate, corrupt, hedonistic, and dark?
As time passed, this ideal was gradually buried deep within Zephlyn's heart.
The more he understood Commorragh and the history of the Aeldari, the more despairing he became.
But, right here!
His ideal, originally buried by despair, actually bloomed with a dazzling light upon those lowly, filthy Half-breeds!
In his role as a Staff Officer, Zephlyn had gained a deep understanding of the ideology promoted by the Free Liberation Front.
The more he understood it, the more his heart trembled with fear!
Simply because this "ideology"... was the very "opportunity to save Commorragh" that he had been seeking all along!
"No! Wake up, Zephlyn, don't be deceived!"
Suddenly, Zephlyn's eyes turned blood-red, and he shook his head vigorously: "I can't think about it anymore! I can't think about it anymore! We... no, they are rebels! They are the enemy!"
As he spoke, he slapped himself hard, trying to clear his head.
He was a noble!
He was the hope of the Montoya Family; how could he, how could he, how could he... admire those rebels?!
At this moment, without Zephlyn even realizing it, his heart was already wavering, identifying with the ideology of those rebels.
Just then, a ghost-like figure suddenly appeared in the Room.
"Lord Zephlyn, perhaps... we can talk?"
The figure's voice was very gentle and filled with goodwill as it spoke to the bewildered and nervous Zephlyn.
An assassin? An Incubus?
In an instant, several thoughts flashed through Zephlyn's mind.
Could it be an assassin from the rebels who had infiltrated their military camp to attempt to assassinate him?
"Stop! Don't move!" Zephlyn pulled out his Splinter Pistol, aiming it at the figure. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he asked three questions in one breath: "Who are you? How did you get in? What is your purpose?"
"Don't be nervous, Mr. Zephlyn, I mean no harm."
The figure that had suddenly broken in raised its hands to show it was unarmed and said in a very calm voice: "As for how I got in, that is not important. What is important is... I happened to overhear just now that you seem to agree with our ideology, don't you?"
"Your... ideology?"
Zephlyn's hair stood on end: "You really are a spy sent by the rebels!"
"If possible, I hope you can refer to us by our formal public name: the Free Liberation Front."
The figure said indifferently: "There is no need to be nervous, Lord Zephlyn. We acknowledge all Comrades who share the same thoughts as us."
"Nonsense! You are slandering me!"
Zephlyn's tone suddenly became much more agitated, and he growled with bloodshot eyes: "Get out! Get out now! Or I'll call for help! I have never agreed with your ideology! Your ideas... your ideas are wrong!"
What Comrade? What agreement?
No!
He, Zephlyn Montoya, did not agree with the rebels' ideology!
Looking at Zephlyn, who had a distorted expression and was roaring as if to prove himself or deliberately hide his guilt, the figure remained very calm: "Lord Zephlyn, you don't need to shout so loudly; that only makes you seem very 'guilty'."
Zephlyn felt as if he were being choked; his face turned flush, yet he couldn't say a word.
"Actually, there's absolutely no need for you to deny it," the person continued. "There won't be a second person here, and I wouldn't be so foolish as to publicize this, because I don't have any evidence, do I?"
With Meshal around, even if it were spread, no one would believe it.
Zephlyn calmed down, his face looking a bit grim as he stared coldly at the figure: "What exactly do you want?"
"I don't want anything, Lord Zephlyn."
The figure shook its head and said, "I just happened to be outside and heard your monologue. I am very happy that a smart and capable person like you can actually agree with our ideology. Doesn't this just prove... that we are on the right path?"
"Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!"
Zephlyn's words were still trying to cover up his true thoughts: "I would agree with your ideology? I am a noble!"
"So what?" The figure tilted its head and chuckled, "I, too, am a noble."
"?
Truth cannot be killed off!
These words, like a majestic heavenly power or a thunderous roar, exploded in the depths of Zephlyn's soul!
He could feel that the concept of family supremacy, which had been "instilled" in him by Lord Meshal and the beliefs he had built since childhood, were simply fragile and vulnerable before the ideals Felix held onto!
"Lord Zephlyn, you are wavering..."
Seeing this, Felix King pressed his advantage and took another step forward.
Clearly, his voice didn't waver in the slightest, yet it made Zephlyn invisibly feel a massive pressure like the earth splitting and mountains collapsing!
"I..." Zephlyn's breathing became rapid, his eyes bloodshot. Struggling and in pain, he lowered his head, clenching his fists as veins bulged on his fair skin: "Don't say any more, Felix. Let's stop here. I can pretend nothing happened and I heard nothing."
He was the hope of the Montoya Family, the successor painstakingly cultivated by Lord Meshal.
How could he, how could he, how could he... he absolutely couldn't!
"Why not say it? We, Commorragh, the Aeldari, have been silent for long enough!"
Looking at the seemingly retreating and pained Zephlyn, Felix King did not grant his wish. Instead of closing his mouth, his voice even rose a few decibels: "Zephlyn! Open your eyes and look! Look at our home! Look at our compatriots! Look at everything here! Is this... is this really your former ideal?"
"Enough, Felix, don't say any more...
"
Facing the pressing Felix King, Zephlyn, who clearly had a higher status and position, seemed to be at a disadvantage, retreating step by step under the pressure of the aura radiating from him.
"Is this your answer? Zephlyn!"
In Felix's eyes, a deep disappointment showed, as if lamenting a failure to live up to expectations. He said angrily: "You would rather close your eyes and plug your ears than open them to see this World! Where is the person who once said they would find a way out to save Commorragh and the Aeldari?! Tell me!"
Forced into a corner with no way to retreat, Zephlyn finally lost his patience in the face of the still aggressive Felix.
"Felix!" He roared in anger. On his extremely eerie and handsome face, as if the most vulnerable part of his heart had been struck, he seemed to fly into a rage out of shame. Terrifying veins and blood vessels crawled across his skin, and his eyes were full of killing intent, a tangible, bone-chilling coldness filling every corner: "Do you think I don't dare to kill you?!"
Clearly, he was desperate.
Having seen the wavering in Zephlyn's heart, Felix showed no panic at all, looking at him calmly: "I have already said, if my death can bring about your 'awakening', then... I am willing to die!"
"Felix, I admit, your ideas are very tempting and very seductive."
Zephlyn took a deep breath. He knew that relying solely on threats would not make this "stubborn friend" back down.
He was indeed interested in the ideas of the Free Liberation Front, but that didn't mean he could make up his mind to abandon the family that had nurtured him for years and Lord Meshal's painstaking efforts to join an organization that should have been an enemy.
He understood completely now that the only way to save this friend of his was to completely shatter his illusions through his own arguments!
To make Felix realize that the ideals he upheld were nothing more than empty "lies"!
"But!" He spoke forcefully, reopening his eyes, no longer lost, no longer retreating: "You have forgotten that the order of Commorragh is as ancient and real as the Webway itself."
"Trueborn establish order and rule this city through bloodline and strength, while Half-breeds and Slaves serve us. This is an iron law that has existed since the birth of the Dark City, which no one can change, let alone reverse."
Saying this, Zephlyn advanced instead of retreating, his gaze carrying a sense of pressure, as if at this moment, he was the master of this conversation.
"You talk to me about truth?" he said coldly. "Fine, then I will tell you about truth. Whether it's the Imperium of Man, the Orks, the Necrons, or even the Tyranids, the only truth is... survival of the fittest. This is the simplest, most real 'truth' in this Universe!"
"You think they can win? No, you're wrong, Felix."
Zephlyn shook his head and said: "Even if they can achieve one or two, or even dozens of victories through schemes and luck, they will ultimately be unable to escape the fate of being crushed. Strength... is truth, and truth is always written by the victors!"
This argument was not only applicable in Commorragh but throughout the entire Universe.
After all, this is warhammer!
However, what Zephlyn didn't expect was that his rebuttal, instead of making Felix give up, actually piqued his intense interest.
Debate?
Sorry, what he feared least was a debate.
"Zephlyn, it is tragic that you have mistakenly perceived 'reality' as 'truth'." Felix's eyes were burning, showing no sign of backing down: "The Orks' pillaging and plundering was also once a reality, but it will never exist forever. As for the survival of the fittest you mentioned, it may be the current state of Commorragh, but behind this state is the hardship of the vast majority being enslaved and exploited."
"A 'truth' maintained by fear and strength is like a spire built on quicksand; it will eventually collapse."
"And the 'truth' I speak of is the real 'principle'. It must conform to the fundamental interests of the vast majority and be a 'truth' that can withstand the combination of practice and theory, repeatedly verified!"
"Interests? Practice?" Zephlyn sneered: "You are still so naive. Look at the power of the Trueborn, derived from bloodline inheritance and endless accumulation of knowledge. The strength of individual power is itself the manifestation of truth. And the 'Slaves' you speak of, besides having the advantage of numbers, what else do they have?"
This was a cruel reality.
It was also the greatest problem they had to face.
Trueborn are the manifestation of bloodline and strength, while nobles are the manifestation of knowledge passed down for ten thousand years!
How can mere Slaves compare to a ten-thousand-year heritage?
"Then have you ever thought about... what the source of maintaining that individual strength you speak of is?" Felix took a step forward, his gaze direct and piercing Zephlyn, his voice steady and powerful: "Let me tell you. It's those Half-breed craftsmen working day and night by the soul furnaces, regarded as 'consumables'; it's those slave Gladiators bleeding to death in the Arena for their entertainment; it's those countless victims whose souls are harvested to maintain the eternal youth of the nobles. The strength and knowledge you are so proud of originate precisely from these... 'vast majority' whom they despise!"
"
He paused, and spoke again with profound realization.
"The strength of an individual, if achieved at the cost of sacrificing the whole, will ultimately be a fleeting moment.
But once the people are organized and realize their own strength, their potential will be infinite.
This is the truly immortal—source of power!"
"
"
Zephlyn's mouth hung open, but he found that the knowledge he had learned for so long was so empty and powerless at this moment!
Wavering appeared in his eyes once again.
"Does the organization you speak of refer to this rabble hiding in the shadows, relying on sneak attacks and propaganda every time?" He tried to make his tone sound tough: "Even if you have temporarily incited them, in the face of absolute power, how can you guarantee that this so-called 'will of the people' will not be extinguished? Don't argue with me, because we have seen too many sparks of resistance being snuffed out. Tell me... why should an 'ideal' that can be easily killed be called 'truth'?!"
"Zephlyn, you're wrong again."
A smile appeared on Felix's face, carrying both compassion and determination: "A noble's butcher knife can kill a person who conveys thoughts, can snuff out a spark of uprising, but... they cannot kill 'warmth' itself, let alone the concept of 'light'!"
"Our truth is rooted in objective laws of development, rooted in the people's instinctive longing for a better life!"
"Where there is oppression, there is resistance. Where there is exploitation, there we are. This is not something any individual can create, nor is it something any individual can stifle. It grows in every injustice and spreads in every oppression."
"Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, or in the future, the nobles might be able to destroy the organization known as the Free Liberation Front.
But as long as the nature of oppression in Commorragh remains unchanged, new 'Pioneers' will inevitably stand up and inherit our ideals. It might be very small at the beginning, but a single spark can start a prairie fire, and this weak force will eventually push the wheels of history to crush the products of the old era!"