It's fine if it's wild, wait until The Old Man in Yellow is on the toilet, I

So Damn Impressive, the Sisters of Silence Taught You

Light and shadow flickered in Nimrod's eyes, hundreds of black specks mingling within them in a mottled blur.

His spreading consciousness was like a tide blocked by massive reefs one after another.

The Primarch drew in his awareness, avoided the black reefs, and focused on a single point.

His condensed consciousness knocked against an iron gate riddled with bullet holes and blade marks.

Bang!

The Primarch's powerful consciousness broke through the brief obstruction.

Though the Vespid's resistance lasted only an instant, it still made Nimrod feel the firmness of his will.

No weaker than the tempered will of an Astartes monk.

Nimrod's consciousness seeped into the Vespid's Mind Gate and searched within.

The Vespid's memories were as if covered by layer after layer of wet tissue.

This was the defense they had built in their minds through interrogation-resistance training.

Nimrod concentrated his awareness and gently peeled away the wet tissues one by one, obtaining the information he wanted:

The Futu Language and script used by the Vespid;

The Sobo Tribe currently had nine hundred and forty-eight people, with one hundred and fifty-three Pariahs;

The tribal chief, Etric.

Nimrod's eyes flashed. The Sobo Tribe really is a powerful tribe.

He remembered that ten thousand years later, when Gregor Eisenhorn encountered the Sobo Tribe and learned they had eight hundred people, he was deeply alarmed.

Nimrod chewed over the name "Etric," followed the guidance of the Vespid's mind, and found the burly Vespid man holding a Falcon Dagger.

Just as his consciousness was about to lock onto Etric, he felt something like a collapsed hole.

A powerful Pariah.

Nimrod's obsidian eyes fixed on Etric. His shoulders were broader than anyone else's in the Sobo Tribe, and the beast pelts could scarcely bind his