Just as Toothy was about to answer it, a group of Gretchin appeared in front of them.
Toothy's expression changed, and she quickly grabbed a dirty burlap sack from the side and covered Lynn's head with it.
The movements were fluid; it was clear the person was an expert.
Lynn asked in confusion, "What are you doing?"
"Don't speak! Follow me!"
Toothy lowered her voice, her tone more tense than ever before.
Lynn had never seen it look like this before.
This usually carefree little thing was now like a cat in its Spinosaurus form, with all its fur standing on end.
There were seven or eight of those Gretchin, and their leader was a pot-bellied guy.
Its equipment was much better than that of its underlings; it wore leather armor with iron plates sewn on, and had a polished machete at its waist.
Around his neck hung a necklace of real teeth, not the kind made of stone.
Upon seeing Toothy, the guy's eyes lit up, and he quickly walked over.
Then it did something that Lynn didn't expect: it clasped its hands in a fist salute.
"Hey, Master Ya, greetings! Long time no see, what have you been up to lately?"
His tone and demeanor were strikingly similar to those of the underworld figures he had encountered in his past life.
Lynn almost thought he had traveled back to the same old place.
Toothy returned the greeting with a fist and palm salute, his face instantly plastered with a fake smile, the speed at which he changed his expression leaving Lynn in awe.
He was tense like he was about to go to war just a moment ago, but now he's smiling like a businessman meeting an old friend.
"What are you saying, Master Pi? You flatter me, you flatter me."
"Me? I'm still busy with the same old things. Unlike you, you must be making quite a bit of money lately, right?"
The guy nicknamed " Master Pi " waved his Gretchin:
"I didn't earn much, just enough to make a living."
Its gaze fell on Lynn: "Who's this? The new guy?"
Toothy immediately stepped in front of Lynn, her movements natural:
"It's a distant cousin of mine; he just came from out of town."
"I'm too ugly, and I was afraid it would frighten you, so I covered it with a cloth."
Although Lynn was much more muscular than Toothy Duoduo, the other party didn't think much of it.
In Master Pi's eyes, what kind of important person could be hanging out with Toothy?
Master Pi laughed, " Master Ya, then I'll have to keep a close eye on you, little brother, and make sure you don't break the rules."
"Alright, I won't bother you anymore."
It clasped its hands in a salute, then led its subordinates away.
After taking a few steps, Lynn heard it speak to its subordinates, its voice neither too loud nor too soft, just loud enough to carry:
"That guy Toothy, he's fallen on hard times but he still acts all high and mighty."
"There's probably a mentally challenged person under that cloth, afraid of being embarrassed if we see them."
His men burst into laughter, which sounded particularly grating to Toothy's ears.
Only after everyone had gone far away did Toothy remove her disguise.
It gritted its teeth, its face flushed red, and the hatred in its voice almost overflowed from its throat.
"That Pike! He used to play with me, but he's nobody!"
"Later, by currying favor with the local Gretchin, he transferred to the Jumping Squig Park!"
It grew angrier as it spoke, its fists clenched tightly:
Now that he's a minor leader, he doesn't respect me at all!
"He was just showing off. Look at that tooth chain he's got—he got it by sucking up to people!"
At this moment, the eyes of this skinny Gretchin were filled with jealousy and resentment.
"That's Gretchin, "Lynn thought to himself.
The Orks fight for fun, for Waaagh, and to prove they are the strongest.
But Gretchin are different; they get jealous and they scheme.
They have the flaws that humans hate most, but they lack the virtues that humans use to disguise themselves.
But Toothy gave him a different feeling; it seemed somewhat innocent.
He lifted the burlap smother over his head and asked, "Why are you covering it up?"
Toothy then remembered this, loosened her fist, and explained:
"No Orks are allowed to appear openly here. If the overseer discovers them, they will be forcibly sent to the lowest level of the Carl II as slave laborers."
It looked intently at Lynn:
"The other Orks unanimously agree that the Ork Boyz who grow up in the place where the Gretchin live are the weakest kids."
"They don't deserve to be on the battlefield; they're only fit to do the dirtiest and hardest work."
"So you can't let others know you're Orks, at least not until you have enough power."
Lynn nodded; this logic was very Orks.
Those who grow up surrounded by Gretchin are bound to be just as weak as Gretchin.
"But there are indeed quite a few Orks here," Toothy continued.
"They all work as henchmen for various Gretchin leaders, and the only reason they're allowed to stay is because the gang leaders have paid tribute to the overseers."
"That's the rule," it said, its tone surprisingly carrying a sense of world-weariness.
"If you have money, you can stay; if you don't, you're out, no matter if you're Gretchin or Orks."
Lynn found his answer very reasonable and then asked:
"How can I legitimately become a soldier at headquarters?"
Toothy's answer was simple and direct:
"Make a name for yourself, get good equipment, make everyone fear you, and let them know you're not someone to mess with!"
"Only in this way will those big guys on patrol take you seriously, and only then will you have a chance to become a soldier at headquarters."
Lynn nodded, finding this explanation reasonable.
In the world of Orks, reputation, equipment, and strength are all indispensable.
He started to make plans in his mind.
Reputation can be built up through fighting, equipment must be purchased with teeth, and this body still needs to be broken in; it's too rigid.
But all of this requires money, so he asked Toothy if she knew any ways to make money.
So Toothy suggested that they could take Lynn to work first, so she could earn money.
"What kind of job?" Lynn asked.
Toothy deep breath and rattled off an outrageously long title:
"Specialist in the harmless treatment of post-meal waste products, a major food source!"
Lynn was taken aback. "What's this for?"
Upon arriving at her workplace, Lynn understood.
Human, the poop scooper.
Before them was a massive Squig enclosure, welded together from thick scrap metal pipes, inside which were kept a dozen or so Muscle Squig.
Those muscular guys wandered around the circle, occasionally bumping into each other with a dull thud.
Their muscles rolled beneath their skin, and with each breath they exhaled large plumes of white steam.
The ground was covered with huge piles of excrement, emitting a familiar stench.
Toothy handed him a shovel made of scrap iron; the shovel was crooked and the handle was covered in rust.
"Let's get to work! Once we finish this ring, we'll be done with today's work!"
Lynn took the shovel, took a deep breath, and almost choked on it.
This isn't your average poop scooping; it's Muscle Squig.
Those hot-tempered guys might rush over at any moment and headbutt you or kick you.
They don't have a good impression of their poop- Gretchin, feeling that these little guys are disturbing their rest.
Sometimes they're just bored and want to have some fun.
Of course, they won't be irritable all the time.
Only during the day do the Muscle Squig become restless and agitated.
Unfortunately, they cannot distinguish between day and night.