Two days later, the Orks Fleet arrived on Dorito.
Ragnar landed in a landing pod at a landing site that resembled a wrestling ring.
He had expected to be greeted with cheers from the boys and a steaming bowl of stew.
But when he stepped out of the landing module and saw the scene before him, the smile on his face vanished instantly.
The seemingly endless mushroom field outside the field was now a scene of utter devastation.
The mushrooms, which were originally half a person's height, were either trampled into a pulp, turning into green mud, or had rotted and turned black, emitting a foul stench.
The neat ridges of the field were dug into a pitted mess, and there were rotten mushroom fragments and footprints everywhere.
The distant Squig farm was not spared either; the wooden fence was smashed through with countless large holes, and countless Squig disappeared without a trace, leaving behind some mangled corpses.
The mushroom fields are the foundation of Ragnar.
While all the Orks lived by robbery, only Ragnar, through mushroom cultivation and Squig breeding techniques, managed to support five billion Orks in Dorito.
Without these mushroom fields, the Deffskull Clan would not be what it is today.
This is also the fundamental reason why he dared to abandon Carl II and retreat.
As long as the mushroom field exists, he has an unlimited number of chances to start over.
Now, his foundation has been ruined.
"Ahhh!!!"
Ragnar let out a deafening roar, Waaagh Field around him surged instantly, turning the sky a dark green with green light.
He returned to the main city in a rage and summoned all the Warboss who had stayed behind.
The gang leaders were trembling with fear, their heads bowed, not daring to utter a word.
"Who did this?!" Ragnar slammed his fist into the fangs that adorned the throne, snapping the half-meter-thick fangs in half.
"Who dared to ruin my mushroom field like this? If you can't tell me, I'll stew you all into a broth!"
The leaders who remained looked at each other, stammering and unable to speak.
After a long while, the leader of the Deffskull Clan, whose face bore a scar, finally mustered the courage to step forward:
"Boss... Boss, it wasn't us, it was the walkers."
"Walking corpses?" Ragnar frowned.
He thought that some fool had dared to launch a rebellion while he was away.
"Yes, boss." Scarface replied quickly.
"A week after you left, the shrimp corpses buried underground suddenly came to life."
"They crawled out of their graves and were biting people everywhere."
"Where they go, the shrimp buried underground will come to life and become new zombies."
"I heard there were only a few dozen at first, but we didn't take it seriously."
"But wherever they go, new zombies crawl out, and the more they kill, the more zombies appear."
"In less than two days, it grew to hundreds of millions."
"They ran around everywhere, trampling the mushroom fields and crashing into the Squig breeding farm."
"We organized several counterattacks, but these things are endless; their heads can still move after being severed, and they can be pieced back together even after being chopped into pieces."
"But thankfully, they can't infect our corpses."
Ragnar's face grew increasingly grim.
He immediately recalled the three Blight Ark he had encountered on the return voyage, the identical zombies on those Blight Ark, and the three-spinning arrow symbols scattered all over the hulls.
"Looks like those three wrecked ships were behind it," he said through gritted teeth.
"From now on, whenever you see anything with three circles and three arrows drawn on it, no matter what it is, chop it all up and burn it!"
After his anger subsided slightly, Ragnar looked at Scarface, the leader. "And then what? How did you manage to eliminate these zombies?"
A hint of embarrassment appeared on Scarface's face. "This... wasn't our idea; it was a Gretchin."
" Gretchin?" Ragnar was stunned.
The Gretchin is the lowest of the Orks race. They are short, cowardly, and can only do odd jobs. No one cares if they die.
What kind of solution could a Gretchin come up with?
"It's that Toothy, who escaped from Carl II and came back to report," Scarface explained.
"That kid and his men hid in the back and observed the zombies for a whole day and night, and discovered that they could only 'infect' through corpses."
"As long as there are no new corpses, their numbers won't increase."
"So he suggested digging up all the corpses in the ground and burning them, then digging a deep trench to trap the walking corpses inside."
At first, nobody believed him. They thought, "What could a Gretchin know?"
"It wasn't until a big guy from Bad Moons tried his method and actually wiped out the walkers in his territory that everyone started to follow suit."
"We dug a containment barrier around the entire infected area and burned all the bodies inside."
"With the isolation zone in place, the number of walkers really stopped increasing. We wiped them all out in just half a day."
Upon hearing this, Ragnar's face showed a look of surprise.
Burning corpses cuts off the source of infection, and digging isolation zones limits the spread.
These two methods are simple, effective, and hit the nail on the head.
Even he might not be able to come up with such a good solution in such a short time.
How could a Gretchin have such a brain?
Ragnar's eyes lit up.
The Orks have no shortage of skilled warriors, but what they lack most are people who can use their brains.
His success today is due to his intelligence compared to other Orks people.
Now, he's discovered a Gretchin who might be just as smart as him.
"Good!" Ragnar exclaimed.
"This Toothy is a good lad!"
"Quickly, bring him here! I want to see him myself!"
"Yes, boss!" A guard quickly turned around and ran towards where Toothy was stationed.
Ragnar stood there, looking at the mushroom field that was being slowly cleared in the distance, his eyes filled with anticipation.
He had a premonition that this Toothy named Gretchin would bring him an unexpected "surprise".
Perhaps, with the help of this little guy, he can not only quickly rebuild the mushroom field, but also make the Deffskull Clan even stronger than before.
In the distance, in the encampment, a short, Gretchin, about the same height as an ordinary boy, was hiding behind a rock, secretly watching them.
He clutched a small notebook made of tree bark, covered with various strange symbols drawn in charcoal.
When he heard that Ragnar wanted to summon him, a sly glint flashed in his small eyes.
He dusted himself off, straightened his tattered armor, then stood tall and strode toward Ragnar.