The Old Man in Yellow is a Little Bit Powerful

Nimrod sat on a massive rock, looking up at the night sky.

The orange moon had risen high.

He was thoughtful.

Orange-red light only shone upon the earth at dusk.

The flagpole of the "Red Priest" uniqueness only grew scalding hot at that time as well.

The supernatural influence only erupted at dusk.

Nimrod thoughtfully withdrew his gaze and let it fall on the Vespid around him.

Of the men and women seated all around, not one touched Vostonia's fine Las-Vault wine.

The way they tore into their food was swift and precise.

They bit through Attilan Oveja steaks, swallowing the piping-hot golden cartilage along with the firm meat.

They ignored the mustard soy sauce, grabbed Cradle of the Sea salmon together with their hands, and stuffed it into their mouths.

Faced with every delicacy of a luxurious banquet for Vostonian elites, the Vespid were like cold, emotionless Servitors, simply taking in the energy within.

Aetsak, chief of the Sobo Tribe, stuffed a handful of Laern's verdant Jade Berries into his mouth.

Their jade-colored membranes burst one after another, the lychee-like top note damp with morning dew, the crisp snow-pear middle note, and the dense fresh strawberry finish blending together and blooming.

With a gulp, he swallowed Jade Berries worth an entire Hive City factory.

"Nimrod, how much will you pay to hire us?"

Aetsak addressed him by name. Whether he was Futu or not, it did not affect Aetsak's demand for payment.

What he cared about was Nimrod's formidable strength, and his offspring—the Shadow of Order.

There were more than ten black-armored warriors who could defeat him. He had seen over a hundred, and among them, fourteen wore the same style of blade at their waists.

Nimrod and his offspring could slaughter the entire Sobo Tribe.

Aetsak understood