One of the reasons Alexander agreed to bring Joan to the Lower Nest was because he valued her almost heaven-defying precognitive abilities.
She promised to find the location of the Warp Engine for Alexander, and she intended to use her precognitive abilities to search for it.
"Along this path, we will encounter some severely mutated hybrid genestealer who are waiting to capture anyone who mistakenly enters this passage," Joan said, pointing to one of the passages.
In her hazy, fawn-like eyes, countless different scenes seemed to be reflected.
"This one leads deeper into the hive city's pipe system, where ancient viruses from bygone eras still exist, and many infected Plague Zombies wander within."
"This passage leads to the last stronghold of the pleasure-seekers, where they indulge in never-ending feasts; those who stray in will become tools for their enjoyment."
"This one leads to an abandoned gladiatorial arena deep in the Bottom Nest; only by spilling enough blood, or causing others to spill it, can one leave."
"Hmm, this passage doesn't lead anywhere, but the passage itself is a prank by the Lord of Change; once inside, the passage will transform into an endlessly extending maze, trapping people to wander within for eternity."
"This one... uh, at the end of this one, there's a group of Greenskins who infiltrated the underground of the hive city; they were cursed by a spell cast by the Lord of Change and got lost here."
"And this one... at the end of this one are several hidden strongholds of the Dark Eldar; although abandoned, they are still dangerous."
"Aren't you being a bit too much, buddy?"
As Alexander listened to Joan make predictions for each passage, his scalp grew increasingly numb.
Genesteales, ancient Plague Zombies, eternal feasts, a gladiatorial arena requiring blood sacrifices, the Lord of Change's pipe maze, Greenskins lost in the Bottom Nest, and Dark Eldar strongholds—Ashford's Bottom Nest had truly accumulated a heap of formidable challenges over ten millennia.
Most of what Joan had foreseen were merely remnants of the various cults and xenos that had come and gone over these ten thousand years.
"Are there any safer passages, ones without so many complications?" Alexander asked, rubbing his temples.
"Hmm, this one leads to the next stronghold of the genestealer."
"This one leads to the stronghold where the mutants are entrenched... along the way, a group of Filthy Blood Gang mutants will capture travelers as samples for their toxin experiments."
Filthy Blood Gang... mutants... toxins...
It sounded like the gang forces of Mont and Marquite.
Before Joan could describe what was in the next passage, Alexander patted her somewhat dry hair and pointed to the passage guarded by the mutants, saying, "This one."
"Eh?" Joan paused, blinking her hazy eyes. "But..."
"I should be able to find a safer path."
Joan's voice grew a little softer; a fine layer of sweat covered her forehead, and a hint of fatigue showed in her eyes.
It seemed that using her precognitive ability took a heavy toll on her mental energy.
"Let's just take this one," Alexander said, patting Joan's head as he walked towards the passage guarded by the mutants.
Joan followed behind Alexander, her hazy eyes casting a look of gratitude towards him.
"I am a tool of the Emperor; you don't need to worry about my stamina, as long as the Emperor's will can be achieved," Joan said softly and obediently.
Alexander's eye twitched slightly; he had already guessed that Joan had misunderstood.
The reason he chose this path was simply to get in touch with the brothers Mont and Marquite.
They seemed to have some influence in the Bottom Nest and were in conflict with the genestealer Cult, so getting in touch with them would make things much easier.
As for Joan...
Alexander had always adhered to the principle of making the best use of everything; if something was useful, it must be used diligently, striving to make every teammate realize their due value.
For example, Joan's wallet; Alexander would never miss an opportunity to swindle... oh no, to earn money from it.
Joan's precognitive ability was so useful, Alexander simply couldn't not use it.
What? Exploiting child labor?
If there was any exploitation, it was the black-hearted capitalist Emperor who did it first; what did it have to do with Alexander?
Glancing at the slightly breathless Joan behind him, Alexander shook his head slightly.
He reached into his four-dimensional pocket, pulled out a bag of giant sunflower seeds purchased from the Upper hive and placed in his four-dimensional pocket, and handed them to Joan.
"This is?" Joan looked at the giant sunflower seeds, larger than her palm, at a loss.
"Sunflower seeds; just crack them open and eat them."
Saying this, Alexander picked up a seed, cracked it open with his teeth, and demonstrated to Joan:
"This is a traditional delicacy from my hometown, given to teammates. Eat it."
Joan thanked Alexander softly, then tried to crack open a sunflower seed with her front teeth.
"You're quite kind, aren't you?" said Sanguinius.
"Making a horse run without feeding it grass—that's the kind of immoral thing only the Emperor would do," Alexander said, glancing at him.
Using faith to exploit labor for free, the old man Emperor, after all, was verbally defiant but physically honest.
"If you have an opinion about my father, why not follow me to Terra and express your grievances to Him in person before the throne?"
"It's not really an opinion. The Empire turning into this mess, he certainly bears responsibility."
Alexander shook his head:
"But without him, the Empire wouldn't even have had the chance to turn into this mess."
"Your views are quite similar to Khan's."
Sanguinius flapped his wings and said:
"Caused by similar cultural circles?"
"In our cultural circle, joyriders like Khan are generally called 'yakuza' and are destined for trouble," Alexander quipped, then glanced at Joan behind him, noticing she was still struggling to crack open that sunflower seed with her teeth.
Alexander couldn't help but shake his head.
He was about to say that she could give up if she couldn't crack it open, when he heard a series of faint footsteps all around him...
Five or six mutants instantly surged out from around the corner of the pipe, blocking Alexander's path.
They held crude weapons, and their faces or bodies were tattooed with a fly symbol; more or less, they all had some mutations and looked exceptionally grotesque.
Mutants, finally here.
"You've arrived. Take me to your leader," Alexander said calmly, pulling out his Superman Gloves from his four-dimensional pocket and putting them on.
The mutants were momentarily stunned by Alexander's words. After exchanging glances, a three-eyed mutant stepped forward.
He held a crude weapon, tapped it on the ground, and said:
"Very well, you will meet the boss... as one of his old man's experimental subjects."
"Marquite wants to use me as an experimental subject? Do their brothers' pathetic blood toxins even need experimenting on?"
"I bet I could take two sips raw and still be perfectly fine, saying: 'Clean and hygienic!'"
Alexander laughed and shook his head.
The mutants looked at each other, confirming Alexander's guess: behind this group of mutants were indeed the brothers Marquite and Mont.
Alexander slowly extended his hand and tapped the thick iron wall of the pipe.
Bang!!!!
The entire pipe shook, and a man-high dent appeared on the low-quality ceramite pipe wall.
The mutants were so frightened that they stood frozen in place. The three-eyed mutant leading them immediately went weak at the knees and knelt on the ground:
"Sir, do you have any instructions?"