Warhammer, I'm a nanny, not your father!

Typhon clenched and unclenched his fists like a deflated ball.

He pulled the corners of his mouth, and the light in his eyes dimmed.

Yes, they are father and son after all, and he is just a ridiculous foil. How could Wop be on his side? Even if it is just a fictional story.

Wop's voice drifted into his ears: "But the tiger will tear Mortarion's throat with its sharp teeth before it dies, unless you help him."

"Me?" Typhon raised his face hesitantly, the extinguished light in his eyes flickered and lit up again, but with a trembling of uncertainty.

Wop: "Your psionics are your sword. You can slow the beast."

Typhon's fingertips trembled slightly, "But I'm not that powerful."

"You're still in the growth stage. You can do it when you grow up. The key is whether you are willing to help him."

"Then I'll help him!" A decisive voice burst out from between Typhon's teeth.

Wop: "How to inspire? How to resist? Answer me."

Mortarion and Typhon locked eyes for less than a second before they both said in unison, "Kill that tiger!"

A barely perceptible arc appeared at the corner of Wop's mouth, and he said that the child Typhon could still be saved.

……

The rescued captives dragged their exhausted bodies towards the flickering bonfire in the center of the village, the flames casting a warm orange glow on their faces.

The tightly closed doors opened one after another, and the villagers' hesitant steps gradually turned into running.

The white-haired old woman touched her son's scabbed wound with trembling fingers, and the young wife hugged her missing husband and cried with joy.

Wop stood in the shadows, diligently teaching the indefatigable Mortarion and Typhon.

"Self-efficacy theory holds that an individual's belief in their ability to successfully complete a task is based primarily on four sources: personal success experience, vicarious experience, verbal persuasion, and physiological and emotional states."

"They lack personal experience of success, but you can give them vicarious experience. Using verbal persuasion and physiological and emotional states, you can help them muster the courage to resist and personally experience the taste of victory, thereby breaking the previous vicious cycle and recreating a positive and virtuous cycle."

"But you can't just give blindly. Human nature fears power, not virtue. You have to establish authority, giving a slap in the face and then offering a sweet treat."

Wop doesn't like to teach in a deconstructionist way. He and other Primarchs treat each other with sincerity.

Although it is still the case now, deconstructionism must be used in the education of Mortarion and Typhon.

Because they are all pursuing the truth and are almost obsessed with it.

If he mixes too much personal emotion into his teaching, it is likely to cause misunderstanding.

Although the possibility is very low, we have to take precautions.

"What are you celebrating?"

The man roared hoarsely amidst the sobs of reunion. He pointed tremblingly at the group of ragged returnees, with an emotion more biting than hatred surging in his pupils.

"Why don't you die outside? Why do you come back? The Overlord won't let you go. Do you know how many people will die?"

The bonfire was still crackling, but no one dared to make a sound.

Rather than sparking outrage, the accusations of men being selfish triggered many of the same emotions they share – a deep-seated fear.

"In Barbarus, mortals are the Overlord's livestock."

A sneer appeared at the corner of Typhon's mouth, but it was not directed at the hysterical man, but at himself and all of them.

The Overlord is the ruler of Barbarus.

This is the cruelest truth of Barbarus.

Generation after generation of the Barbarus people have been kept in captivity, slaughtered, and domesticated, and have even become accustomed to eating feed from a trough while kneeling.

The reason why mortals can survive under the rule of the Overlords is because the Overlords raise mortals to provide a constant supply of material for their rule and experiments.

The golems created by the Overlords use Warp sorcery, but their materials are taken from mortals.

Overlords also have sexual desires, and beautiful mortal women often suffer more cruel torture, such as Typhon's mother.

Mortals are like chickens in a pen waiting to be slaughtered. When the overlord arrives in the chicken coop, every chicken is trying to survive in panic until fate chooses that unfortunate one.

The survivors would bow their heads for the deceased and utter a few symbolic words of mourning.

Then, in the joy of surviving the disaster, it buried its head in the feeding trough again, filling the gap left by fear with numb pecking.

Day after day, they learned to bow their heads in the shadow of their overlord, treating every massacre as an accident of fate, as if this could convince themselves: they were captured because they were unlucky, and I would definitely not be captured if I were lucky.

It is under the guidance of this kind of thinking that Tolin is afraid to sound the alarm, and the villagers will flee in panic when they hear the alarm.

Over generations, the survivors learned to bow their heads more docilely, and even actively pushed their weak companions into the clutches of the overlords.

When the chickens that should have been slaughtered broke free from their shackles and staggered back to the chicken coop, the entire chicken coop fell into an eerie silence - how would the overlord punish them?

"Hand them over! Take them before the Supreme Overlord!" the man roared at the top of his lungs, veins bulging in his neck. "Otherwise, the Overlord's army will raze our village to the ground, and we'll all be buried with them!"

"But he is my son!" the old woman cried heart-wrenchingly.

"So what? Didn't my son die too? Do you want to be buried with him?"

The sounds of quarreling, crying, and cursing mixed together, and human nature was exposed in the noise.

"And them!"

The man suddenly raised his hand, and his bony knuckles stabbed at the three Wops at the edge of the crowd like blades. "They have offended the Overlord, and there are wizards among them! This will bring disaster to our village. Burn them to death! Burn them to death now!"

There was turbid malice in his eyes, and Typhon sneered even more fiercely.

Mortals have always been like this. His mother was defiled by the Overlord, but did mortals sympathize with her?

They drowned his mother, and if he hadn't run fast, he would have died.

Mortarion remained silent, feeling only sadness.

Men are indeed selfish, stupid and bad, but who is responsible for all this?

He is the overlord, and it is to obtain his god.

Mortarion will not take the blame on himself out of self-pity, but he must change the current situation of the world. He will not surrender to God, and neither will the Barbarus!

Faced with the man's hysteria and the villagers' increasingly dangerous looks, Wop suddenly smiled.

His voice was soft, but it pierced the boiling clamor like an icicle: "Do you know what this is called?"

"What is it?" Typhon suddenly raised his voice.

"A kind man is often bullied, and a kind horse is often ridden. They pointed guns at us because we are good people."

Mortarion's voice was dull. "Good people should be held at gunpoint?"

"It shouldn't be, but people tend to bully the weak and fear the strong. So your kindness can't be too cheap, you have to show some edge."

With a slight flick of Wop's finger, the crowd's feet left the ground.

The body seemed to be pulled by invisible threads, floating uncontrollably.

Some people kicked their legs in fear, some waved their arms desperately, but they could only struggle in vain in mid-air, like a group of fallen leaves blown away by the wind.

"Let me go! Let go of—ugh!"

The man's terrified roar came to an abrupt halt, as if an invisible thread had suddenly tightened around his throat.

Wop just snapped his fingers carelessly, and his lips were glued shut as if frozen, unable to make any sound.

Wop glanced sideways at Typhon. "They know we're wizards and can crush them to death with a single blow. Yet they still threaten to execute us. Why do you think that is?"

The man's wide-open eyes trembled wildly on his pale face, and the faint light flowing from Wop's fingertips was reflected in his pupils.

He only knows that Wop is a wizard!

If he knew that Wop was so strong, how could he dare to speak so arrogantly?

"Because we were too soft-hearted and didn't domesticate them like the overlords did."

Wop: "So what should we do?"

Typhon was silent for a moment, then lowered his voice a bit: "However, just teach them a lesson. After all, we are not overlords."

He knew that Wop was not that kind of person, otherwise he would not have extended a helping hand.

But what about himself?

This sentence was certainly said in accordance with Wop's wishes, but deep down in his heart, was there no such thought at all?

Mortarion's gaze swept coldly over Typhon.

It's so childish that Wop has to guide me step by step even for such a simple thing.

"You all heard it. Someone is pleading for you."

The crowd slowly fell like leaves, except for that man who fell heavily to the ground with a thud.

"Say thank you."

"Thank you..."

The words of thanks were sparse, just like the villagers' mood.

Typhon knew that these trembling thanks were tinged with fear of Wop, but the burning satisfaction in his chest surged uncontrollably.

Yes!

He helped them, and they thanked him. Isn't that what they should do?

Wop's eyes swept over the cowering crowd. "The Overlords don't dare to retaliate. If we can rescue them, we can naturally guarantee your safety as well."

The crowd's initial instinctive fear is subtly changing.

In the glances people exchanged with each other, another emotion gradually emerged above the background of fear.

"A slap in the face and a sweet treat in return." Mortarion took it to heart, knowing that Wop was demonstrating this to him.

Wop slowly said, "But I have a condition. I'll trade you your children, not one less!"

A trace of trembling panic flashed across the pupils of the crowd, but their tense nerves relaxed immediately afterwards, with a sense of relief as if a heavy burden had been lifted.

This is just right!

Chapter 122 What is a Psychic? (5K)

"Dear father, fuck your mother!"

Typhon stood before the endless waves of wheat, the gray morning light soaked through his outline, and the diffuse mist enveloped the earth.

He took a deep breath and shouted loudly to the wilderness, "Father, fuck your mother!"

The sound was particularly clear in the quiet early morning.

From the time the fog first appeared until the morning light dispersed the mist, his shouting never stopped.

He could count for the first seven weeks, but after that he started to calculate roughly based on time.

Now even he himself couldn't remember how many times he had repeated it, but it must have been a thousand times.

His chest heaved and his throat felt slightly dry, but the depression that had been lingering in his heart for a long time quietly dissipated in the morning breeze, as if the whole world had brightened up.

The teacher calls this simply bad breath, the ultimate enjoyment.

Typhon walked back along the dew-soaked ridges of the fields. Hailer Pass was a typical Barbarusian village. Low-slung adobe houses silently surrounded a mottled public barn in the center. Endless wheat fields swayed gently in the morning breeze, and golden waves of wheat spread across the vast wilderness.

The village is cleverly nestled in the arms of the valley, and this location allows the villagers to partially avoid the poisonous fog that ravages Barbaros.

In the morning light, the wooden door of the house on the edge of the village was pushed open with a creaky sound.

The girl, who had jumped out with the wooden basin in her hand, saw the figure on the ridge of the field and immediately stood on tiptoe, waving her wet hands: "Good morning, Brother Typhon!"

"Good morning, Debbie."

Typhon raised the corner of his mouth gently. Although there were still some people in the village who did not welcome them, Debbie's smile still made him feel a long-lost sense of belonging, and made him realize that there were still people in this world who welcomed him and needed him.

What he wanted was never much, just a greeting, a nod, or a look that no longer avoided.

Those tiny recognitions, like scattered flames in the wilderness, were not enough to dispel the long night, but they were enough to keep him going.

Typhon soon saw their own house, which he and Mortarion had built together, cutting wood from the mountain and building it together.

Typhon still remembered that when he first arrived at Helle Pass, the villagers looked at them with silent and complicated eyes.

There were only about two hundred villagers in Heller's Pass. The strongest among them were abducted by the Overlord's puppets during a raid. It was Typhon who saved them from the prison cart, and it was Mortarion and Wop who brought them back to the village.

The villagers were happy about the return of their loved ones, but they were also afraid of the overlord's revenge. Some even suggested executing them and sending those who escaped back to the mountains to please the overlord.