Outside the stronghold, more than two hundred Gretchin stood in a dark mass, each holding a knife, looking menacing.
The knives gleamed in the sunlight, some stained with bloodstains left at some unknown time.
Awu was at the front. He was a size larger than a regular Gretchin, wearing a discarded Flak Armour with several bullet holes in his chest, but it was still sturdy.
He had an axe tucked into his waistband, its blade gleaming, capable of easily cleaving a Gretchin in two from head to toe.
It looked at Toothy with disdain, a sneer on its lips, as if it were looking at a chicken waiting to be slaughtered.
The thugs behind it were all fierce-looking and boasting to each other about how many people they had killed.
On the other hand, most of Toothy's underlings were workers not long ago, as thin as bamboo poles, standing there like a row of scarecrows that would fall over if blown by the wind.
The weapons were just random wooden sticks, tied with iron plates or stones, and the hands holding them were trembling.
Some of the Gretchin simply stood there empty-handed, clenching their fists, looking rather reluctant.
The two sides seem to be on completely different levels.
Like a flock of sheep facing a pack of hungry wolves.
Awu didn't rush to attack. It took a step forward, its voice as unpleasant as sandpaper rubbing together.
" Toothy, I advise you to hand over what doesn't belong to you."
It didn't explicitly say what it was, but Gretchin present knew.
Territory, teeth, and the wealth left by Awen.
Awu never imagined that his 1,500 fine teeth had already been worn out by Toothy.
Toothy stood at the very front, carrying a hand cannon on his shoulder.
It can now be perfectly controlled.
Its response to Awu was very firm:
"Hmph, I earned this through my own abilities, why should I return it to you just because you say so?"
Awu narrowed his eyes, a dangerous glint in them:
So, you mean there's no room for negotiation?
"Of course!" Toothy knew she couldn't back down now.
If it softens, then everything is over.
Those lackeys standing behind it will run away, and even the Gretchin who are still watching will side with Awu.
All those teeth, territory, and everything that they climbed to this position will slip away like sand.
Seeing how tough Toothy was, a hunched figure next to Awu approached.
It was an Orks, but it was very short, only 1.5 meters tall, and wore ill-fitting armor, making it look somewhat comical.
The big guys who were recruiting soldiers back then didn't even look at it, thinking it was too short and useless.
In the end, it could only stay by Awu's side as a strategist, offering advice and running errands.
"Boss, this Toothy strong, there might be a trick involved!"
It lowered its voice, its eyes darting around like a frightened mouse.
Awu nodded.
They had all heard the legend of the Purple Shadow, the purple shadow who brutally murdered Awen outside the tavern.
Awen's head was ripped off alive, and blood splattered all over the ground.
They actually knew exactly what the Xiaobudian were planning.
They simply wanted to use Awu to test what the purple figure behind Toothy really was.
If there really is something behind Toothy, then Awu is the stepping stone.
If not, then Awu is the knife that kills.
Regardless of the outcome, the Xiaobudian n't lose out.
Their eyes met in mid-air, neither willing to back down.
Both sides' underlings were waiting, waiting for their boss to speak.
Toothy's underlings were trembling, and so were Awu's underlings. The legend of Zi Ying left them uncertain.
Some people secretly looked back, afraid that the purple shadow would suddenly appear from behind.
No matter how ferocious they may seem, they are still Gretchin; cowardice is in their nature.
Seeing that there was indeed no further movement from Toothy's side, Awu waved his hand.
"Get them!" More than two hundred thugs swarmed forward, their shouts of battle deafening.
The knives were raised, gleaming in the sunlight, like a pack of hungry wolves pouncing on a flock of sheep.
Toothy; he wasn't a coward either!
"Follow me!" It charged ahead, using its hand cannon like a submachine gun; it could fire and swing at people.
It knew that as long as it killed Awu, it could win.
When the henchmen saw their boss charge, they yelled and followed, but their steps were unsteady and their legs were still shaking.
"Kill one, and you'll get ten teeth!" A generous reward will surely attract brave men.
Upon hearing that there were teeth, the skinny henchmen, in a fit of rage, charged forward with howls.
But they are far inferior to those professional fighters.
The enemy killed them one by one with a single strike; they didn't even have any decent weapons.
A worker raised a wooden stick, which was then chopped off with a single blow, along with his arm. He fell to the ground screaming in agony.
Another worker rushed forward with a makeshift spear, but was kicked to the ground and three or four knives were plunged into his stomach at the same time.
One by one, Toothy's men fell, screams echoing everywhere, blood splattered all over the ground.
Meanwhile, Toothy himself knocked down several Gretchin in succession.
One shot from the hand cannon, and those hit were sent flying, blood and bits of flesh everywhere.
Those Gretchin' legs went weak when they saw their companion's corpse, but those behind them kept pushing forward.
It bombarded one enemy after another, but with limited ammunition, it had already fired ten rounds and its coffers were empty.
So it started swinging its cannon at people, smashing the barrel onto their heads, splattering their brains, and then elbowing them in the stomach with the cannon butt, sending them flying.
It was like a mad beast, charging and darting through the crowd, each movement filled with a desperate ferocity.
After killing more than a dozen Gretchin, Toothy's strength began to wane.
Gradually, it was surrounded.
Seven or Gretchin, brandishing knives, grinned maliciously as they approached it step by step.
The blood was still dripping from the tip of the knife; it was all the blood of its little brother.
Awu stood behind, watching all this, his brow furrowed.
Is this Toothy really just an ordinary Gretchin?
Was his brother Awen just unlucky to be killed by it?
Toothy watched the knives getting closer and closer, a sense of despair welled up inside her.
It still couldn't do it.
Without the Seven-Smasha, it's nothing.
The shells were all used up, and their strength was exhausted. Some of their men were dead, and others had fled.
It closed its eyes, waiting for the final blow.
Suddenly, a wild roar came from behind Awu.
The voice was neither like that of Gretchin nor like that of Squig; it was far more violent and ferocious.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned around to look.
Amidst the rising dust, a group of blurry figures could be seen, with only a faint hint of purple.
They looked like a group of evil spirits that had rushed out of hell.
Awu was terrified and immediately ordered his underlings to protect him.
"Stop them! Stop them now!"
But the thugs were already panicking.
They didn't know what was inside the dust and mist, but their instincts told them: danger!
It was a fear etched into one's very bones.
They had to be almost face to face before they could see each other's true faces.
They were a group of strong Ork Boyz, dressed in some strange purple clothes, their figures blurred in the dust and mist, like moving shadows.
The leader was 2.3 meters tall and covered in muscles.
Just its presence alone makes you feel breathless.
Hundreds of seasoned street fighters were no match for this Orks.
Without using any weapons, they shattered the Gretchin's defenses with sheer physical impact.
An Orks lowered his head and charged into the crowd like a bull, knocking three or four Gretchin flying.
Another Orks spread his arms and slapped the two Gretchin together like he was swatting flies, their brains splattering.
One of the Gretchin was picked up and thrown out like trash, knocking down a whole bunch of people.
After the Gretchin died, the machetes fell to the ground.
The Ork Boyz picked it up, weighed it in their hands, and grinned.
Then, a massacre began.
The Orks picked up the fallen machetes and harvested the lives of the Gretchin like wheat.
The Ork Boyz wielded sharp machetes, capable of killing two Gretchin at once with a single blow.
Those thugs who were just moments ago looking fierce and menacing are now scattering around like frightened rabbits.
The Gretchin began to flee, throwing away their weapons and scrambling about, some even kneeling down in surrender.
But in the eyes of these Orks, there is no such thing as surrender.
They only saw stationary targets beckoning them to come and chop them down.
In the chaos, Awu was knocked down, and before he could get up, a large foot stepped on his back.
It struggled desperately, clawing at the ground with its limbs, but that one foot remained motionless.
Daidai blankly down at the struggling Gretchin at his feet, then raised his machete.
Toothy shouted from afar, "Keep them alive!"
It was too late; the knife had already fallen.
Awu's head rolled out and was crushed on the spot by another passing kid.