Gou is a dark elf in Warhammer

"Leave Lusini and enter the foothills of the Apuchini Mountains, traversing the border princely territory until you reach the top of Blackwater Bay. Pass through Barak Seagate at night to avoid the toll! Turn left after passing Death Pass, then a sharp right next to the volcano. Turn left between Bone Plains and Broken Tooth, then follow the coastline of the Sea of ​​Fear, through the delta, and the Dragon Islands will be right before your eyes… You absolutely won't want to miss them!"

— Luca Varugin, Tyrell explorer
The primeval jungles of the Dragon Islands are a suffocating and treacherous land, with towering ancient trees piercing the gloomy sky like twisted spears. The dense canopy almost completely devours the sunlight, casting only sparse, eerie patches of light into the snake-infested swamps below. And in the shadows of this forgotten land, even more deadly creatures lurk.

These creatures have long since severed ties with the lizardmen who attempted to tame them. Over time, the native behemoths of the archipelago have degenerated into the purest predators. From the most slender vipers to the largest thunder lizards, the islands are teeming with terrifying, scaly monsters.

Most of these colossal beasts are enormous, their ferocity matching their size. Some are so massive they can cross straits without sinking, and require a near-constant hunting schedule to maintain their mountain-like bodies. Pterosaurs circle above their highland nests on thermals, their sharp eyes scanning the jungle below for every movement; groups of lizards slither silently through the forest, their keen senses detecting the scent of warm-blooded creatures; fire salamanders glide through the swamps, spitting scorching flames at any unsuspecting creature.

Deep in the jungle, the earth-shaking battle between Stegosaurus and Tyrannosaurus Rex, which had raged for days, would ultimately become the victor's feast of flesh and blood. Anyone who approached the edge of the forest would encounter a primal tidal wave of claws and teeth, and the entire jungle would seem to awaken in an instant, either driving away or devouring all intruders.

After losing the guidance and coordination of the Slan priests, the lizardman society of the Dragon Islands, like a temple stripped of its pillars, began to slowly and irreversibly tilt.

The collapse of civilization does not happen overnight.

The ancient system of duties was the first to fail, the priestly class lost its authority because it could no longer heed the decrees, and the recorded sacred texts became useless stone tablets in the face of survival crisis.

Food shortages, giant beast attacks... the sacred bonds that hold society together are breaking apart bit by bit.

The pyramids still stand, but the echoes within them no longer resonate with harmony; instead, they resound with the cries of collapse, panic, and hunger.

What followed was a long and brutal "battle royale." This wasn't a game; it was the most primal survival selection process after the loss of order.

Different lizard communities, lizardman warbands, and even some giant beasts that have undergone mental transformation engage in endless battles and struggles for limited resources and safe nests.

The old social classes were completely shattered, and power, cunning, and adaptability became the new rules of the game.

During this period, countless short-lived and bloody micro-regimes may have emerged, some ruled by the most powerful lizardman warlords, and others dominated by spirit lizard communities that were adept at utilizing the terrain.
This is an elimination tournament with no winners, only a social structure that constantly evolves amidst blood and mud.

Ultimately, after countless generations of conflict, adjustment, and natural selection, a new balance gradually emerged—the reorganization of civilization. But it was not based on the blueprint of the ancient sages, but rather rooted in the extremely treacherous land of the Dragon Islands.

The new social structure serves entirely the two most fundamental purposes: survival and defense.

The timing of Raine and her group's arrival coincided with the moment when this reconstructed civilization had just solidified and begun to operate.

Therefore, what they saw was a scene that was "seemingly true but actually false".

The pyramids remain solemn, yet beneath them flows a completely unfamiliar social logic; the spirit lizards remain busy, but bear entirely different identities and destinies; the lizardmen are still mighty, but their role has transformed from guardian to regulator.

Sacred and savage, eternal and temporary, order and oppression, are twisted here into a knot that cannot be untied by old experience. They have stepped into a world that they have crawled out of on their own, a world that is both familiar and terrifying.

As he was taking notes, Renn kept sighing with emotion. When he finished writing the last stroke, he looked at Yakadan, who was smoking a pipe and puffing out clouds of smoke.

Amidst the swirling smoke, Yakadan's pupils were half-closed, as if scrutinizing the city before him, or perhaps looking back through the smoke at a long-vanished era.

As he was taking notes, the words Darkus had once told him kept echoing in Renn's mind: "The structure of the lizardman society is essentially a living beehive."

His understanding of the "hive" is that it is synonymous with precision, selflessness, and absolute purpose-driven.

This is something elves could never do, but lizardmen can.

On the continent of Lustria, this hive is based solely on the grand plan of the ancient saints, with the Slan Demon Priests as its core processors and absolute will. The spirit lizards are worker bees, each performing their own duties and working selflessly; the lizardmen are soldier bees, specializing in combat and protecting the whole; and the giant lizards and others are special tool bees.

Now, the snake people have also joined this big family.

Social classes exist, but not for privilege; rather, they represent functional differentiation. Individuals have no "selfish desires," only the perception and execution of "plans." The social structure is as stable as a pyramid, pursuing eternity and precision that transcends time. Efficiency serves sacredness, and survival is about fulfilling a mission.

This is a society based on a sacred blueprint and collective unconsciousness, where individual value is fully integrated into the overall purpose, just as a swarm of bees acts solely for the survival of the queen and the colony.

However, everything before my eyes completely overturned this perception.

What he saw was not a beehive, but a living, cruel tribal society.

Yes, tribalism!

There is no single, transcendent "Queen Bee" as the absolute core and source of will here. Lord Huniartanqui is a powerful outsider, a "Queen Bee" who suddenly intruded, and the local society has clearly reorganized itself without such a core.

Those lizardmen who monitored the labor were a microcosm of the warrior class within the tribe who wielded military power. Their authority no longer stemmed from the sacred duty of serving Slan, but from their direct control over labor and the means of production.

This is a secular power based on strength and resources.

Social bonds have transformed into mutual assistance and forced dependence for survival. The cooperation between the lizard and the monitor lizard is not the cooperation between worker bees and tool bees, but more like the necessary cooperation between tribal people and domesticated livestock for survival.

The construction of the wooden walls and the maintenance of the waterwheels were not for some vague, unrealistic plan, but rather for the most direct survival needs: defending against external enemies and maintaining the basic functioning of the settlement. Has religion perhaps become a spiritual tool for consolidating the current power structure and explaining harsh realities, rather than a genuine guide?
The relationship between individuals and social classes has undergone a qualitative change.

Within the Hive, the Lizard Class are the executors of functions, with varying ranks, but they are essentially still part of the "plan." Here, the Lizard Class is more like a ruled and exploited producer class. They perform arduous labor, are monitored by the Warrior Class, and their value lies in actual output rather than their contribution to the sacred blueprint.

A clear relationship of ruler and ruled, surveillance and being monitored emerged between social classes, which is a typical characteristic of tribal societies!

Just then, Inshi-Huz approached. He stopped beside Yakadan and extended his hand. The gesture wasn't a request, but rather a tacit, habitual understanding. Yakadan didn't turn his head or hesitate for a moment, but simply placed the still-glowing pipe in Inshi's outstretched hand.

Inshi-Huz brought the pipe to his lips, took a deep drag, and the smoke slowly escaped from his nostrils and between his teeth, blurring his face.

"What do you think..." Renn's voice broke the brief silence, carrying the calm characteristic of a recorder, an attempt to detach from emotion, "That lizard priest, did he deserve to die?"

He suddenly thought of Holoto and Kopititi, and immediately asked a question that had been lingering in the air for a long time, a question worth pondering. But he knew very well that these were two different situations. Before Darkus reactivated Holoto, Holoto was merely closed off and lacked resources. Kopititi, as the lizard priest, maintained the city's operation, but his tragic nature meant he never strayed from the grand plan.

Insh-Huz abruptly stopped moving. It was as if this simple question had triggered some kind of illogical switch; his body remained motionless, only the smoke from his pipe rising in wisps. He tilted his head and looked directly at Renn, his gaze devoid of anger, agreement, or even clear confusion. It was more like a complete, systemic shutdown; he seemed to have fallen into a profound stillness that transcended simple judgment.

“Of course!” Yakadan’s reply was like a chilled dagger, sharp and decisively piercing through the smoke. “He deviated from… the grand plan.” His tone was calm, yet contained an undeniable absoluteness, as if stating a law as natural as water flowing downwards.

Renn chuckled and shook his head.

Arkadan's thoughts were perhaps those of the silent, high-ranking Lord Huniartanqui. From the perspective of Lustria, who upheld the Old Ones' blueprint, the judgment was clear and ruthless.

The executed lizard priest may still be calculating food rations, allocating labor to keep the city running, and even presiding over some simplified ritual to appease the lizards. On the surface, he was indeed doing the work of 'maintaining the operation of the temple city' and preventing complete chaos and collapse.

However, in Yakadan's eyes, in Master Hui's eyes, he is the pivot and symbol of systemic depravity.

His job was no longer to execute grand plans, but to keep a distorted system afloat. His meticulously calculated rations may have ensured priority for the overseers; the labor he mobilized consolidated his barbaric rule; and the rituals he presided over cloaked the twisted power structure in a false guise of sanctity.

He became the lubricant and adhesive for the system's effective operation, allowing this tribal society, based on oppression and pragmatism, to deviate from the right path more efficiently and to go further and more steadily down the wrong road.

He was not a direct tyrant wielding the whip, but he used wisdom, knowledge, and residual authority to provide management, legitimacy, and continuity for tyranny. His existence made barbarity appear orderly and oppression seem like a necessary evil.

The greater his contributions, the more entrenched this flawed civilization becomes, and the further it strays from the path of the ancient sages.

Therefore, his death was not merely a punishment for an individual's crime, but a resolute verdict delivered against the flawed system itself. It declared that any effort to serve the distorted order, no matter how 'useful' or 'necessary' it may seem, is futile.

Without his lubricant, the spirit lizard might be in even worse shape than it is now?
However, as long as its root deviates from the grand plan, it is the deepest betrayal and a poison that must be eliminated!

Master Hui's actions not only froze the overt barbaric violence but also purged the hidden accomplices who maintained it.

Inshi-Huz remained silent, pipe in hand, his vacant gaze reflecting the bottomless abyss behind this choice. There were no simple right or wrong there, only the cruel and eternal tug-of-war between the survival and purity of civilization. The smoke continued to rise, blurring the apex of the pyramids, and also blurring the trembling boundary between life and death and justice.

Renn's gaze shifted from Yakadan to the distant lizardman overseers, seemingly frozen in time, his thoughts drifting back to the execution site not long ago. The ancient blood warrior, who had played the role of a warlord and chieftain, had stood silently by, witnessing the death of the spirit lizard priest.

He was certain that when Master Hui was staring at the ancient blood warrior, it wasn't the indifference one would show to an accomplice, nor the murderous intent one would have for the next target, but rather... an assessment.
Like a craftsman examining a tool that is heavily rusted but whose frame is still intact.

At that moment, Renn suddenly understood.

Master Hui did not execute the ancient blood warrior because his sins were lesser, nor out of mercy. On the contrary, it was probably because the ancient blood warrior embodied the most central and unambiguous role of the lizardmen in the original blueprint of lizardman society.

Even though this kind of character has been distorted to the extreme in Dragon Islands.

In the orthodox society of Lustria, the lizardmen, from their very inception, were neither thinkers nor managers; they were executors, pure tools of force. Shaped by the Old Ones for fighting, protecting, and hunting, their thought processes were direct and pure, serving explicit commands or instinctive combat procedures. They did not participate in social construction, nor did they formulate plans; their right and wrong depended entirely on who drove and in which direction their power was directed.

Therefore, when Master Hui examined that ancient warrior warlord, he may not have seen a corrupt manager or a rebellious ruler, but a unit whose function was severely skewed, even backfiring, but whose 'tool' nature had not been completely extinguished.

The Lizard Priest's sin lay in the betrayal of "intelligence" and "authority." He used the wisdom and organizational skills that should have served the grand plan to consolidate a distorted system. His "work" was the proactive construction and maintenance of a system that distorted the core logic of the grand plan.

Therefore, it must be removed!
The Ancient Blood Warrior's "sin" is more like the rampage of a tool. His use of violence, establishment of authority, and hunting of spirit lizards are certainly horrifying, but from a cold, functional perspective, this still doesn't completely escape the behavioral pattern of the lizardmen as units that carry out violence. It's just that he has lost the correct instructions and constraints, directing his violent instincts towards the wrong targets. His harm lies in the "results of his actions" rather than a fundamental subversion of his "functional nature."

Master Hui's decision to spare them may be based on this cold-blooded instrumentalism: the lizard priests' "betrayal" is fundamental, as their intellectual and managerial degeneration will pollute the core of the system; while the lizardmen's "rampage" is functional, and their nature as tools of violence can still be recalibrated and brought under control.

Executing the priests is like purging the logical virus from the system; leaving the warriors alive might mean that, in Master Hui's eyes, this out-of-control tool can still be refined, and its power, once given the correct instructions, can still be used in the right direction—whether it's clearing out the jungle behemoths or serving as a necessary deterrent force when rebuilding society.

Is this distinction unrelated to morality, but only concerned with efficiency and the underlying logic of racial design?

At this moment, Renn's understanding of the Slan Priests was refreshed once again.

In Master Hui's transcendent weighing of things, the life and death of the individual, the boundaries of good and evil, all seem to give way to a cold question: After being reformatted, does this unit still have any value to the grand plan?
The 'wisdom' of the lizard priest has gone astray, its corrupting influence outweighing its malleability, and therefore it must be eradicated.

Although the Ancient Blood Warrior's "power" is misdirected, its original function as a power vessel remains, or it may be reclaimed.

This, perhaps, was the judgment Master Hui made at a glance. It had nothing to do with sympathy, but rather with a profound understanding of the essence of the ancient sages' creation, and an unwavering, almost cruel, pragmatic consideration of rebuilding order.

Then, Ryan closed the notebook.

The leather cover makes a soft click when it touches the inner pages, as if a faint boundary has been drawn.

He was indeed sentimental, otherwise he wouldn't have been moved by the sight of the civilizational upheaval before him, nor would he have felt bitterness before the life-or-death judgment, but he was not sentimental either.

This is both contradictory and not contradictory.

He knew perfectly well how many lives he had taken, directly or indirectly, and how many souls had vanished because of his decisions and orders. The exact numbers had long since become blurred, like an account book blackened by blood and fire; he no longer bothered to count them.

He is a being entangled in layers of fate and deity: the shadow of the Radiant One looms over him, and Loik's choice is imprinted deep within his soul. But beneath all this, his core self-awareness remains clear: he is an elf, not a lizardman.

His empathy and observations were ultimately separated by a layer of glass of race and mission. Recording these things was less about salvation or critique, and more about satisfying a detached academic interest.

Perhaps in some long and boring period of time in the future, he will polish these materials and what he has seen into a calm and even slightly detached paper entitled "The Reptilian Social Reorganization after Disqualification: Observations Based on the Dragon Islands", so that his name can also appear on the bookshelf of the White Tower of Hoss?

Closing the notebook signifies the temporary end of this phase of 'observation'. These distortions of civilization, the weighing of executions, the impact of tribal systems—all of these were unexpected episodes.

The reason he was sent here by Daxus at this time and was called Master Hui was because he had a more specific and urgent task and responsibility.

At this moment, he must bring his attention back to his own path.

Almost the instant the leather cover closed, his instincts as a hunter and a hidden passage suddenly awakened. He raised his head, his gaze no longer lost or wistful, but sharp as a blade, slowly sweeping over the shadows of the surrounding wooden walls, the cracks in the pyramid base, and the edge of the jungle in the distance, which appeared particularly deep in the dim light.

His fingers unconsciously rested on the hilt of the Reality Blade at his waist.

There's something nearby!? (End of Chapter)