Chapter 154 Civil Engineering Boy

At the top of the spiral tower of the abandoned hub city of the Eldar Webway, three powerful psykers sat in a circle around a glass tank, lost in thought.

In the glass tank enlarged by the Emperor, the miniature greenskins fought each other in the heavy milky white network.

They fought for a while and then stopped to rest, then energetically repaired the buildings and roads destroyed by the short waaagh, cheered loudly to the Emperor outside the glass tank and reflected on various surfaces inside the glass tank, and then continued to fight with the greenskins next to them, vowing to tear out the big teeth of each other.

In this repetitive process, the mental energy reflective material that Morse broke off from the abandoned building materials on the top of the tower and threw into the glass tank was gradually repaired into the construction of the greenskins.

It is unknown where the knowledge of these creatures comes from. In short, they seem to have a natural understanding of how to use the mysterious technology left by these ancient races, and unconsciously throw this technology that humans have no way of mastering into the most incredible low-level struggle, practicing the joy of squandering to the greatest extent.

"I thought..." the Emperor spoke slowly, "even the Eldar would find it difficult to understand the construction and maintenance of the Webway."

"There is no record of greenskins using the Webway to navigate, right?" Morse read a part of the existing data of the Empire on the face of the Emperor who was no longer hiding his surprise. If there was a precedent of orcs using the Webway that was recorded by humans, the Emperor would not be so surprised.

"Before this, I think there was no precedent in the Empire for greenskins to exist in a miniature state." He continued, "Perhaps this group of greenskins is particularly special, or... it's just that no greenskins have ever had the opportunity to enter the Webway to stimulate their potential."

"They are a dangerous force." Malcador clenched his scepter, his old eyes sharp.

"And I am a radical person." Morse smiled, and the contempt in his expression was not directed at Malcador. He has always been an advocate of radical policies and has a clear self-awareness. "I see a possibility, and I reach out to grab it."

"Very similar to my Lord." Malcador sighed, and sadness emerged from his old face with ravines.

He looked into the distance. Even though there was no direction in this Eldar ruins, Mors could still feel that what he was looking at was where they came from, that is, Terra.

Beside the two, the surprise had unconsciously dissipated from the Emperor's expression. He focused on observing the movements of the greenskins, using silence as the sound of thinking.

The thinking of the Emperor of Mankind also led the emotions of the other two. The obvious or hidden respect and care for the Emperor made the two suddenly stop disturbing the Emperor. Their words slipped from their lips, and they fell into the same silence as the Emperor.

A few minutes later, Mors and Malcador looked at each other, sinking into the etheric horizon, and perceiving the psychic circle created by the greenskins with the Emperor at the energy level.

A young man wearing a laurel wreath, a middle-aged man with a vicissitude, and a group of empty nothingness sitting in a strange wheelchair all watched the spiritual world of this small group of greenskins.

The existence of these creatures is somewhat strange. Each thought seems to be independent and seems to resonate with each other at all times. They selected the will of the greenskins respectively, slid into the turbid fog of memory and thought along the edge of the mind of these strange creatures, and began to communicate with surprise and laughter.

"They don't care about their origins." The voice of the Emperor sounded. Without the deliberate blessing of psychic energy, his slightly hoarse voice became much softer. "No greenskin knows where they came from."

"Some greenskins vaguely know that there was a group of guys called smart boys several thousand years ago," Morse said, "The origin of this race has been forgotten."

"They are not a naturally born race." The young Malcador said, making his judgment. "Their social structure and physiological needs do not conform to biological laws, and no aliens are the same as them."

"They will instinctively obey the stronger orcs..." Morse stretched out a transparent hand drawn by flowing runes, allowing a vortex of consciousness to pass through his palm, "War and brute force are the source of growth. This is a race born for war."

"But this orc," the Emperor paused, thinking about how to translate the language system used by the greenskins for thinking, "What influence have they received?"

"They regard construction as a kind of battle." Malcador said, "When enough orcs gather, they will automatically elect the best builders, and the rest will become... boys?"

"Construction boy." The Emperor tried to find the corresponding meaning in Gothic. When this inexplicable word came out of his mouth, Morse saw a smile in the Emperor's dark eyes, "and each has a category, and each boy has a proficiency in different construction fields."

"Maybe he stayed with Perturabo for too long." Morse said. "Every day I listen to Perturabo directing the construction of fortresses on various planets."

"When a leader gathers enough construction workers, they will start fighting while building." The Emperor said.

"Very poor construction habits," Morse shook his head, "I'm sure your Custodians and Mechanicus do much better than the greenskins, at least in terms of rules and regulations."

"Their construction is consistent with the level of building war machines, which is unreasonable, but can be used and is practical." The Emperor evaluated objectively.

"They praise you all the time, my Lord." Malcador added perhaps the most important point, the young man's sighing appearance coincided with his aging appearance in the real universe.

"It is hard to imagine what the race that created them had in mind," Mors said lightly, his laughter was stopped so quickly that it exposed the deliberateness in his laughter.

"They are both geniuses and madmen. But if I were to choose..." The void drawn by the rune thought for a while, "While granting the Webway technology to the Eldar, I would indeed find a place to make some inconspicuous backups - after all, the Eldar can degenerate their empire into the abyss, and we all witnessed the tearing of the deep purple eye in the sky. In short, I now very much suspect that their other creation is the green-skinned orcs."

"You support the participation of greenskins in the research and development of Webway technology." The Emperor said softly.

"If you can study the mystery of the Webway yourself before the official construction of the Webway begins, I will not support it." Mors replied. "Between the pursuit of the Dark Gods and the technology of the aliens, we may have to make a choice."

The Emperor's lips pressed together, pulling into a narrow line. "It is not the best choice to make friends with the aliens." He said, summarizing his thoughts with the most obvious reason.

"Why make friends?" Morse said, "Kill them when you can use them."

"Most greenskin technology cannot be separated from their psychic existence, whether this is because most greenskins inherit incomplete technology or this is the nature of this race." Malcador pondered. "They can't be killed immediately, we must consider this."

"Before humans master the necessary technology, we can use it as a transition to complete temporary construction before the warp storm re-emerges." The Emperor said slowly, "But how to ensure that the greenskins' mental state can maintain the stability of the webway?"

"We need a being who can contact and stabilize the greenskins' mental state." Morse said thoughtfully, "A person with a talent for telepathy, a professional master of telepathy."

"You all don't have this kind of free time, and although I can take over temporarily... then Perturabo must be informed of the webway plan, otherwise he will not be at ease. Doubts bring accidents, and accidents bring disasters."

"I can rotate with you." Malcador said, "I don't need to leave Terra. However, although we can use psionic energy to inspire the orcs' waaagh state, after a section of the webway is completed by the greenskins using their technology and humans, and before humans completely replace the webway with their own mature technology, what should the greenskins' bodies do?"

"Build a wall." Morse said. "It was only a joke."

"What do you think, my Lord?" Malcador turned to the Emperor.

The Emperor closed his eyes, then opened them again.

"I need to think," the Emperor said, "I will leave these greenskins... for now."