Chapter 441: Hearing the Bad News Suddenly

"The Great Horned Rat will eventually descend upon the Mortal World; the era of the rat-kind is about to arrive!"

While Sinuoli was in the Forging Room, forgetting to eat and sleep, the Grey Claw High Priest Kelitesilike had once again convened the Council of Thirteen in the Skavenblight within the Withered Swamp. It had already received the news when the first Rune Colossus was repaired, and now that mass repairs were imminent, the old rat could no longer sit still.

"Squeak, the beard-things have repaired, repaired their big things! Very big, very big, bigger than giants."

The Eshin Nightlord pointed out the main theme of the meeting in concise terms. The grudge between the Dwarfs and the rat-kind went without saying; the day Sinuoli reclaimed the Southlands, the rat-kind had felt a vague pressure, but their inherent flaws meant they didn't want to care until the fire reached their own doorsteps.

"Rat Ogres are, are not enough, not enough to look at in front of the Colossus! You think, think of a way."

The fourth-seated Warlord took up the conversation; it could be said to be the most "knowledgeable in warfare" among the Skaven, clear on how terrifying indestructible stone beasts were in war. And what it pointed to was the eleventh seat sitting directly opposite—the Beastlord of the Moulder Clan, Wormenjin.

"A way? Morden, the Morden Clan certainly has a way!"

The Moulder Clan, also called the Morden Clan, was one of the four Great Clans, famous in the underground world for its terrifying biological modification technology. Rat Ogres were their best-selling product—economical, affordable, and with outstanding results.

Its leader, Wormenjin, looked somewhat similar to the Grafted Ghoritch in Elden Ring. Having long fought on the front lines of scientific research and accepted a large amount of the latest results, its "rat content" had become so low that it made other rats uncomfortable.

"You, you, you lot, what is the use of doing those things all day? The Twisted Brood-Mother is, is the true form of my god!"

The headquarters of the Moulder Clan was located in Hell Pit in the northern Troll Kingdom. As the name suggested, it was an exceptionally terrifying dungeon. Legend had it that it was divided into nine levels, each presided over by a Beastmaster, and the deeper the experiments went, the bloodier and more taboo they were.

Beastlord Wormenjin did not often appear at its council seat. The distance was only one aspect; more importantly, it was a questioning of the leadership of the Grey Seers. Similar to the Pestilens Clan far away in Lustria, the Moulder Clan worshipped the aspect of the Great Horned Rat that symbolized infinite reproductive capacity.

"At this time, in this place, how, how can you squeak, squeak and bark!"

The Blood King of Clan Krizzor, who sat in the seventh seat closest to the door, spoke up. In the Council of Thirteen, the further one sat from the statue of the Great Horned Rat (codenamed Thirteen), the weaker one's strength was. Its clan was entrenched in Kislev and was the first target of the Moulder Clan's southward advance; in recent years, it had gradually moved closer to Skavenblight to seek support.

"Hmph! We have at least eight, no, ten kinds of exquisite formulas. Give me resources, large amounts of resources, and all can, all can be realized!"

"Exquisite formulas, ha! The guys from Clan Skryre bought, bought your new products, and just, just as they got on the battlefield, they suddenly exploded, exploded into a pile of minced meat. Before it, it breathed its last, it was still busy cursing you!"

"You, you have added new scars to your face again; it wouldn't be, wouldn't be from a monster losing control and scratching you, would it?"

The Flesh Lord's boastful words drew sneers from the councilors. The Moulder Clan's reputation in the underground world was just as terrible. This group of lunatics had an endless thirst for biological materials, and the most easily obtained, unfortunately, were the Skaven themselves—every Warlord who traded with them would rather pay a huge fee for delivery than go to Hell Pit to pick up the goods themselves.

"Disintegration cannot be counted as failure... Disintegration! Can matters of scientific research be counted as failure? That is called tortuosity..."

What followed were difficult-to-understand words, such as "gene assembly" and "rejection reaction," which made all the rats burst into laughter, and the air inside and outside the council was filled with a cheerful atmosphere.

Laughing was one thing, but they hadn't called Beastlord Wormenjin back from the northern wilderness just for fun. Clan Skryre had already demonstrated that the cost of developing a weapon to counter the Rune Colossus through engineering technology was unbearable, so turning to biotechnology was the only choice.

"Master Buluokesen has been waiting for you for two days! He seems to have something very important."

A month later, after Sinuoli finished producing a new Energy Core, he walked out of the workshop, exhausted, to get some air. The Anvil Guard at the door hesitated for a moment before quickly reporting to him.

"Buluokesen? Has he drunk enough wine and is ready to start working?" Sinuoli muttered as he walked toward his office; manufacturing a core was a great burden even for a Demigod's body.

"Your Majesty, my father passed away five days ago!"

"What? Buluoke's lifespan is even shorter than my father's, what happened? Speak slowly."

As soon as he entered the door, he saw Buluokesen with a white cloth tied around his head and red, swollen eyes. The news he delivered made Sinuoli narrow his eyes, his hand subconsciously reaching for the divine hammer at his waist. The head of the Engineering Guild had cooperated very deeply with Sinuoli and had long been given a stamina-boosting buff; how could he have passed away suddenly?

"Sigh, Father drank three rounds of wine that day and still wanted to go inspect the Colossus test site. As a result, as a result, sigh, he was careless and slipped from the high platform!"

"My condolences! Guild Master Buluoke has made such a great contribution to our Qunshan; there will surely be a place for him in the halls of the Ancestor Gods. Have you investigated the situation at the time?"

"Your Majesty Selending arrived immediately with his Ranger Captain. We investigated it together, sigh, it should, it should be an accident."

A few days were far from enough to soothe the pain of losing a father. When he spoke of his sorrow, the genius Engineering Master's tears flowed down again.

"Is the scene still preserved? I want to go take a look and also pay my respects to the Guild Master."

"It hasn't been touched at all. Mother said, said that once you knew the news, you would definitely come!"

Taking the train to Jiliuguan, this large fortress, which had been in a sea of joy when he left, was now filled with mourning. Even if the head of the Engineering Guild wasn't the de facto second-in-command here, he was the second most influential Dwarf.

"Please look, the Guild Master came over this way at the time; these clansmen can testify. After turning this corner, they greeted him."

Although the grey-bearded Ranger Captain was very confident in his judgment, he remained humble before the great Demigod chosen by the Ancestor Gods. He had gathered all the clansmen who had come into contact with Guild Master Buluoke along the way to reconstruct the scene as best as possible.

"Perfect, too perfect, perfectly excessive!"

The more Sinuoli investigated, the tighter his brow locked. He didn't quite believe in true accidents, especially when they happened to key people at key points in time.

With nothing gained for the moment, Sinuoli allowed Jiliuguan to close the case as an accident. Out of respect and gratitude for Buluoke, he took the initiative to serve as one of the four pallbearers during the burial, which further elevated his prestige.

"I think I know where the problem is! Jiliuguan shouldn't be this clean!"