61: Chapter 61 Street Racers

To the west of the Shelter, the former camp of the Black Claw Clan Orks.

The atmosphere here was completely different from the tense and somber Northern Wilderness; it was full of joy and silliness.

After the death of Warlord Black Claw, the adult Orks in this camp had long since been wiped out.

All that remained were some Gretchin and small Squigs hiding deep within underground scrap metal pipes and trash heaps.

For veteran players, these small monsters weren't even enough to fill the gaps between their teeth.

But for the three hundred Level 1 newbies who just logged in today, this place was practically the perfect starter village.

"Line up! No pushing! Long weapons on the left, two-handed on the right!"

Liver Emperor sat boldly on a piece of rusted armor plating, holding a Logging Gun and chewing on a piece of hay found in the wasteland, looking every bit like a black-hearted power-leveling contractor.

"Ten points for an hour of power-leveling! VIP package is twenty points—I'll get the mobs to low health, and you guys land the last hit for the XP! Honest prices, no credit!"

In front of Liver Emperor, at the camp's largest entrance, veteran players had used scrap wire mesh to seal it off, leaving only a narrow gap, effectively creating a mob spawner.

Whenever a small, green-skinned Gretchin with a long, pointy nose screamed and poked its head out of the hole, or a red Squig that looked like a tomato with legs hopped out...

"Go, go, go! The mobs are out! Don't steal my first kill!"

Several new players, wearing only the system's starting tattered cloth clothes, howled with excitement, raised their melee weapons, and swarmed forward.

*Squelch!*

A new player skewered a Gretchin's belly with a stick.

The small monster let out a piercing scream, and green blood splattered across the player's face.

"Holy crap! These blood physics! The lossless audio quality of that scream! This is too damn realistic!"

Instead of feeling disgusted, the new player shouted in excitement.

He even stuck out his tongue to lick the green blood from the corner of his mouth, then gagged twice.

"Ptooey! It even tastes like fermented rotten eggs! This taste engine is unbeatable! Game of the Year, guaranteed!"

"Brothers, why isn't this mob dropping gold?"

Another newbie fumbled around the Gretchin's corpse for a long time, finally holding up a bloody broken tooth with a confused expression.

"It only dropped a lousy tooth?"

"You must be a 'cloud player'!"

Know-it-all Dong nearby immediately shared some knowledge.

"In the Warhammer universe, Ork teeth are hard currency! Save up, and when you go back, find the Ork faction shop to trade them for a good blade!"

On the other side, the newbie who rolled the hidden Skaven race, [Playing Valorant Is Too Noisy], was completely letting loose.

Taking advantage of his short 1.5-meter stature and a metabolism faster than a human's, he went down on all fours.

Facing a snarling mutated Squig, he didn't dodge; instead, he pounced head-on, and the two of them bit each other frantically in the sand, rolling into a ball.

"I'll bite you to death, you red ball! You dare bite my ear? I'll pull your hair out!"

The Skaven player bit down on the Squig's neck, making it roll around in agony.

He even used his long, flesh-colored tail to tightly constrict the Squig's hind legs.

"Incredible, Brother Dawa! Interspecies hand-to-hand combat!"

The surrounding newcomers all clapped and cheered.

"Old Liver, is it really okay for us to collect protection fees from the newbies like this?"

Flash leaned against the broken wall, asking with a slight chuckle as he watched the excited newbies.

"What's there to fear? We're just making reasonable use of the game mechanics. Exchanging labor for rewards—that's called a market economy!"

Liver Emperor spat out the hay, a merchant's cunning smile on his face.

The entire old camp was filled with joyful laughter.

Under the protection of the veteran players, the newbies had turned this brutal wasteland pioneering into a relaxed and pleasant mob-farming farm.

However,

just as the players were happily farming mobs,

a dull vibration suddenly came from deep within the dried-up riverbed that cut through the Spine Mountains from north to south, hundreds of meters wide, to the northeast of the camp.

"Thump... Thump, thump..."

At first, the vibration was faint, like distant rolling thunder.

But after only a dozen seconds, the vibration turned into a roar!

The yellow sand and gravel beneath their feet began to jump violently and uncontrollably!

"What's going on? Is the server bugging out with an earthquake?"

A newbie holding a wooden stick looked up blankly.

"Something's wrong!"

The smile on Liver Emperor's face vanished instantly.

His combat intuition, honed by several battles, made him spring up from the armor plate and rack the bolt of his Logging Gun.

He turned his head toward the riverbed opening to the northeast.

In the next second, Liver Emperor's pupils contracted sharply, his voice cracking from extreme terror:

"Holy shit! Enemy attack! Scatter! Find cover, now!!!"

Before his voice could fade,

"WAAAGH!!!"

A terrifying war cry, piercing the clouds and filled with fanatical and pure violent desire, exploded from the corner of the dry riverbed!

Accompanied by swirling yellow-green sand, no fewer than fourteen Ork vehicles, painted in eye-searing crimson and styled with extreme wildness, roared out of the canyon like maddened steel boars!

It was an Ork Biker Gang!

There were low-chassis assault buggies with massive serrated rams welded to the front;

there were scrap metal trucks with spinning tracks, their beds filled with Orc Boyzs;

there were even two half-track combat vehicles with multi-barrel heavy machine guns and crude rocket launchers mounted on their roofs!

Because they were painted red—which signifies speed—these Ork vehicles were moving so fast that people had no time to react.

With deafening engine roars and billowing black smoke, they crashed headlong into the ruined camp!

*Crash!*

The first few new players didn't even finish turning their heads before they were hit head-on by a speeding buggy.

Flesh and blood were as fragile as paper before the steel rams.

Three or four newbies were instantly pulverized into a mist of blood and flying flesh, logging off on the spot.

"Hahaha! Crush da humies! Big trukk crush 'em!"

The Orc Boyz in the driver's seat floored the accelerator, excitedly pounding the steering wheel.

The Orks in the back raised their thick Shootas and heavy assault guns, opening fire indiscriminately on the chaotic crowd below!

"Rat-tat-tat-tat!"

Bullets poured down like a torrential rain.

Dirt flew, and scrap metal was struck with showers of sparks.

The starter village that had been full of laughter just moments ago was instantly transformed into a bloody slaughterhouse.

"Ah! My leg's been blown off!"

"Holy shit, what kind of mobs are these?! How can a high-level convoy spawn in the starter village!"

"The pain simulation is too high! Lower the pain setting, quick!"

The new players, without armor and armed only with cold weapons, fell in rows like wheat being harvested.

But after only half a minute of panic, the innate bravery of these players with their "immortal" attribute was completely triggered.

If you're not afraid of death, what is there to fear?

"Fear my ass! It only costs 20 points to die once anyway!"

A newbie whose stomach had been riddled by machine-gun fire simply stopped running.

With a mouth full of blood, he turned around and spread his arms, blocking the path of an oncoming truck.

"Run, brothers! I'll block its path!"

*Thud.*

With a dull thud, the newbie was dragged under the wheels.

But before he died, he managed to jam his metal spear into the truck's front suspension, causing the vehicle to noticeably jerk and slow down.

"Damn! A dynamic event! An armored convoy raid!"

Miracle Walker hid behind a piece of scrap metal, his eyes shining as he shouted commands.

"Newbies, don't just die for nothing! Use your deaths to buy time! Veterans, counter-attack with me! Disable their mobility!"

"Witness my American-style Iaijutsu!"

Meanwhile, Flash was trembling with excitement as he drew the Melta Sword from his waist.

He spotted a passing buggy and slid directly into the rising dust.

The searing blade carved a blinding red arc across the side of the wheel; the buggy's track snapped instantly, causing the entire vehicle to lose balance and roll across the sand, smashing a section of the wall.

"Nice work! Suppressive fire, cover him!"

Liver Emperor unhesitatingly raised his Logging Gun and pulled the trigger on the nearest Ork truck.

But the large-caliber bullets only produced sparks against the truck's heavy armor; they couldn't penetrate it at all!

To save on weight while power-leveling newbies against Gretchin today, the veterans hadn't brought any heavy weaponry.

Facing this fully armed steel torrent, their light weapons seemed utterly powerless.

*Boom!*

A crude rocket trailing black smoke slammed into the ground near Liver Emperor, the massive shockwave throwing him back and slamming him hard against a metal wall.

"Cough, cough..."

Liver Emperor spat out bloody saliva, his mind racing as he watched his teammates fall around him.

"We can't fight them head-on! Without heavy weapons, we can't break their armor! They have the mobility advantage!"

Liver Emperor roared into the squad channel.

"Break line of sight! Use the terrain! Everyone, abandon the outer cover! Retreat into the wreckage at the very back of the camp! The walls there are thick and the entrance is narrow—the vehicles can't get in! Use the terrain to block their collision boxes!"

The surviving dozens of veterans and over a hundred newbies suddenly realized what to do.

They stopped running blindly and instead, like a swarm of well-trained locusts, scrambled toward the massive domed ruin in the center of the camp.

A few quick-thinking players even worked together to push over some heavy old steel beams during the retreat, barely managing to create some makeshift roadblocks.

The Orks clearly had no intention of letting these slippery prey escape.

The fourteen vehicles quickly fanned out like a pack of sharks smelling blood, circling the massive ruined building.

The heavy machine guns on the vehicles fired frantically, sending shards flying from the hull of the engine wreckage.

"Get out and krush 'em! WAAAGH!"

An exceptionally large Orc Boss jumped down from a half-track.

He brandished a massive Power Axe, grinning as he approached the narrow entrance of the ruins.

Dozens of strong Orc Boyzs also hopped off their vehicles, rushing toward the entrance with strange cries.

The situation instantly became critical.

The players were pinned deep inside the wreckage.

In front of them were fierce Ork infantry, and outside were armored vehicles with mounted machine guns.

"Front row, shields up! Newbies, poke with spears from behind! Have you seen 300? Be like the Spartans!"

Flash held up a thick iron plate he had scavenged and braced himself against the entrance of the ruins.

"I can't hold on! My shield's durability is almost gone!"

A strength-build player was forced back by the Orc Boss's axe, his exoskeleton letting out a strained groan.

Just as the defensive line was about to collapse and the players were preparing for the countdown to total annihilation...

Suddenly,

both the players struggling inside the wreckage and the Orks firing arrogantly outside

heard a strange noise at the same time.

It was definitely not the crude, leaky engine sputtering of a wasteland vehicle.

It was a low, steady, and strange hum that seemed to resonate through every inch of the air.

"Vrrr—"

Everyone's movements involuntarily paused.

Liver Emperor looked up from a gap in the shields, staring toward the source of the sound with a completely bewildered expression.

Several Orc Boyzs also stopped their choppas, scratching their bald green heads in confusion.