As the army grew, Lynn noticed that he was also growing bigger.
In three days, he grew from two meters to nearly three meters.
His muscles are stronger, his movements are more coordinated, and even his voice has a more " Orks " feel to it.
And Toothy, the apparent clan leader, has become even smarter and more cunning.
It speaks more logically, acts more methodically, and even becomes more insidious when scheming against others.
This indicates that they are already affected by the Waaagh! Field.
The Orks creatures "thought" that Toothy was the boss, so Toothy started to become smarter.
The Orks "thought" that Lynn was Orks, and so Lynn really did start to look more and more like Orks.
Three days later, the Orks transport ship responsible for receiving the goods arrived.
Every so often, cargo ships would arrive at Squig Ranch to collect grain.
They will contribute at least 80 percent of the Squig meat production as food for the entire operation of Carl II.
It was a dilapidated cargo ship pieced together from scrap metal, moored crookedly in the open space in the middle of the ranch.
The hatch opened, and a large Orks jumped out, followed by dozens of fully armed Ork Boyz.
It looked around but didn't see the Lao Cantui; instead, it saw a 1.5-meter-tall Gretchin standing at the front.
That Gretchin was wearing a purple ninja outfit, with a swirling cloud headband tied around his forehead.
The burly man frowned, somewhat displeased. "Where's Lao Cantui?"
Toothy stepped forward and clasped his hands in a gesture of respect.
"I've defeated Lao Cantui. Now, this ranch is under my Toothy."
The big guy was clearly a little taken aback, then it burst into laughter.
"You? A Gretchin? You defeated Lao Cantui?"
It looked down at Toothy as if she were an ant, "Are you fucking kidding me?"
The Ork Boyz behind it laughed too, their laughter rising and falling, sounding particularly jarring in the open space.
Toothy didn't smile; it just stood there.
But suddenly, hundreds of Ork Boyz dressed in purple appeared behind it.
Like a mesmerizing fog.
The big guy's smile froze on his face. He looked at the Orks and seemed to understand something.
Toothy didn't say anything; it just stood there, waiting for the big guy to react on his own.
The big guy swallowed hard; it wasn't stupid. Then it cleared its throat and softened its tone considerably.
"Well, since Lao Cantui is dead, you being the supervisor is definitely not a problem."
In Orks society, the one who can fight the most is the boss.
"However, the higher-ups might not agree to let a... Gretchin be the supervisor."
His tone was somewhat hesitant, as if he were genuinely considering the feelings of his superior.
"I understand what you mean." Toothy was prepared for this.
It waved its hand, and its underlings began carrying boxes onto the big guy's transport ship.
They didn't stop until they had moved the tenth box.
The big guy frowned, about to speak, when one of his subordinates leaned close to his ear and whispered a few words.
The big guy's expression instantly became quite interesting.
It walked quickly to a box and opened the lid.
The box was full of exquisite large teeth, radiating an alluring luster.
It closed the lid, turned to look at Toothy, its face already beaming with smiles.
"You have potential! I believe in you!"
Toothy smiled on the outside, but her heart was bleeding.
Those were ten boxes of fine teeth; a third of the Lao Cantui, accumulated over so long, were gone in an instant.
But it didn't show it; it knew those teeth were worth it.
The big guy collected enough Squig meat and boarded the ship with his henchmen.
Before leaving, it turned back to look at Toothy and said something meaningful:
"I'll put in a good word for Chandler."
The ship left, leaving only those purple figures on the open ground, and Toothy standing at the very front.
Toothy turned to look at Lynn, "Almost there."
"They'll come back to recruit soldiers. The fighting is intense at the front, and we have so many Orks here; they won't let them get away."
Lynn nodded, but that was exactly what he wanted.
Finally, I can go to Carl II openly and legitimately.
However, both Toothy and Lynn knew they couldn't just go like that.
If we're used as cannon fodder to fill in the gaps, that's fine too.
The biggest fear is being treated as a laborer or in a support role; for the Orks men, not being able to fight means no chance of promotion.
That's definitely not a good job.
So Toothy started spending money, and it found those wandering merchants drifting around Carl II.
They purchased a large quantity of armor and weapons, and also brought out the remaining stock of the Lao Cantui.
They eventually managed to assemble three hundred sets of standard Orks armor, along with a bunch of miscellaneous throwables and ammunition.
Once all the items were gathered, the Lao Cantui's supplies were almost gone.
Three days later, the big guy who was supposed to collect the goods arrived again.
This time, it was followed by an Orks of clearly higher status, dressed in fine Orks Power Armour, holding a Big Shoota in his left hand.
Without wasting words, it immediately said to Toothy, "Count out five hundred Ork Boyz and come with me."
Toothy's heart tightened, and it tentatively asked, "What position?"
The big guy ignored it, as if he hadn't heard it.
Toothy was not in a hurry; it called its little brothers to bring up several boxes of teeth.
The big guy glanced at it but still didn't say anything.
Ya Duoduo gritted his Toothy and gestured to his underlings to bring up a few more boxes of teeth.
This time, the big guy finally opened his mouth and said, "Outer dock, as guards."
Toothy outwardly breathed a sigh of relief, but inwardly she was very disappointed.
"An outer dock? Not bad, hahaha~~~"
The big guy understood the implication in its words and snorted:
"Want to go to the front lines? You're not up to the task."
The ship sailed away, taking five hundred Ork Boyz with it.
The one leading wasn't Lynn, it was Doudou.
Lynn didn't go; he sent Doudou with the former Ork Boyz from the ranch to hang out and gather information.
Lynn stood at the entrance of the outpost, watching the ship grow ever more distant.
He knew that if he continued like this, he would never achieve his goal.
He needs fame, more fame!
The Hokage Clan is just a small gang operating in the Squig Ranch; in the eyes of those big shots, they're nothing.
If you want to make a name for yourself, you have to fight.
Fight Orks, fight humans, fight any opponent you can defeat.
But now they don't even have a decent opponent.
The other Squig Ranch? They're all Gretchin, too pathetic to be worth a second thought.
And those big guys with spaceships? They're too strong, we can't beat them.
Lynn was a little worried; he was beginning to understand why those Orks always wanted to launch a grand waaaagh.
Having exhausted all other options, he left the stronghold and wandered around the ranch to pass the time.
The Squig were whining and groaning inside the fence, the Gretchin were busy working, and the Ork Boyz were lazily basking in the moonlight.
Everything is normal.
Suddenly, Lynn walked to a fence and stopped.
Two fiery Squig were kept in the fence; they were completely red, had bad tempers, and could breathe fire.
However, the meat itself is spicy and is generally used as a seasoning.
A hapless Gretchin accidentally fell into the fence.
It screamed and ran desperately toward the fence exit.
The two Squig noticed him and simultaneously lowered their heads, charging towards him.
The Gretchin ran incredibly fast, its two short legs moving like wheels of fire.
The two Squig chased after them, one on the left and one on the right, neither giving way to the other.
Finally, the one on the left was faster and slammed into the Gretchin's back, sending it flying.
The Squig that had succeeded stopped, turned around to look at the one that had lagged behind, raised its head, and let out a triumphant cry.
The one that was a step too slow was unwilling to accept it and rushed forward to ram into the other animal.
The two Squig started fighting, and the battle was so fierce that the sky darkened and dust flew everywhere.
Lynn stood outside the fence, watching this scene, when something suddenly exploded in his mind.
Orks people love thrills, so besides fighting, what's more exciting than racing?
Horse racing, car racing, racing anything that can run.
For many Orks, the obsession with speed is ingrained in their genes.
They paint things red because "red runs faster."
What if he organized a Squig speed race?