By the time Wry-Mouth and his group of greenskins were brought back to the Blackrock Clan, the sun was already setting in the west.
Over fifty greenskins crowded the valley entrance, completely blocking the newly repaired palisade. The goblins peered curiously into the valley, while the hobgoblins huddled with their necks retracted, secretly glancing at Kurzadh's back—after a good beating, no one dared to shout anymore, but their eyes still held a timid, scrutinizing look.
As soon as Kurzadh led the people into the valley, a "Ding" sounded in his mind, and a system prompt appeared:
[Congratulations! The Blackrock Clan has successfully developed into a Level 1 Village!]
[Unlocked building blueprints:]
[1. Statue of Gork and Mork: Gork and Mork are watching you! Increases tribe obedience by 30% upon completion. Materials required: Stone x5, Wood x3, Waaagh! Energy x50.]
[2. Boss's House: The boss's exclusive residence! Increases tribe loyalty by 10% upon completion. Materials required: Wood x10, Thatch x8, Stone x2, Waaagh! Energy x30.]
[3. Mushroom field: The greenskin's "cradle"! Produces goblin x5 and Small Mushrooms x5 weekly. Requires 10 goblin for daily maintenance. Materials required: Soil Conditioner (Basic) x1, Wood x2, Thatch x5, Waaagh! Energy x20.]
[Mission issued: Build at least two structures within 7 days.]
Kurzadh stared at the blueprints for a long time, his eyes growing brighter and brighter.
Leaving aside obedience and loyalty for now, just the words "mushroom field" were enough to warm his heart—he knew greenskin reproduction inside and out; it relied entirely on the green spores on their bodies.
A scale might fall off today, a piece of skin tomorrow, and a small goblin might pop out somewhere, completely haphazardly.
But this system mushroom field could actually "produce 5x goblin weekly"? If this was built, would the tribe still worry about a shortage of manpower?
"Boss? What's wrong?" Dragu leaned over, seeing Kurzadh staring blankly into the air. He couldn't help but poke his arm. "These newcomers... how should we arrange them?"
Kurzadh snapped back to reality and pointed to an empty space in the valley: "Let them crowd into the old shacks first! Scarface, take ten goblin to cut wood and build three more shacks! It must be done before dark!"
"Squeak! Squeak!" Scarface immediately responded, dragging a few old goblin and scurrying into the forest—he was a "veteran" now, and when he looked down at the goblin brought by Wry-Mouth, there was a proud swagger in his chest.
"Dragu, you take five goblins to move stones and extend the palisade another half circle!" Kurzadh pointed to the valley entrance again. "With so many newcomers, the palisade needs to be sturdier, so wild beasts don't tear it open at night."
"Alright!" Dragu rolled up his sleeves, about to call people, then turned back and asked, "Then... what about food ? We don't have enough fish today."
Kurzadh glanced at the new greenskins squatting on the ground, all so hungry they were swallowing saliva, almost out of strength to even peel bark.
He stroked his chin and pointed to the riverside: "Let Wry-Mouth take his group to collect the fishing nets! Three new ones were set yesterday. If there are fish, cook them. If not, pick mushrooms—Dragu, you go with them and make sure they don't slack off."
Wry-Mouth had just been untied. Hearing his name called, he quickly responded "Yes," his head bowed almost to his chest—having been beaten and witnessed the "God's herald goblin" speak, he was truly scared. At this moment, if he were told to jump into the river to catch fish, he wouldn't dare say "no."
After arranging lodging and food , Kurzadh pointed to several sturdy hobgoblins: "You guys, go with Wreelx to gather firewood! Make the bonfire bigger, so you don't freeze at night—anyone caught slacking off will be thrown outside the palisade to feed the wolves!"
The greenskins shivered at the words "feed the wolves" and immediately scurried into action.
Some cut wood, some moved stones, and those collecting fishing nets waded into the river towards the shallows. The valley suddenly became lively, with the "clinking and clanking" of hammering and the "squeaking and groaning" of dragging mixed together, giving it more of a "tribe" appearance than before.
Kurzadh wasn't idle; he squatted in the empty space in the center of the valley, repeatedly examining the system blueprints.
The Boss's House and the Statue of Gork and Mork were both useful, but what he cared about most was the mushroom field—greenskins , simply put, were about "strength in numbers." With a steady stream of goblin and hobgoblins, building structures, making weapons, and seizing territory would all be easy.
He clicked on the mushroom field blueprint for a closer look, and a small line of text was attached below.
[Under system guidance, tribe members will automatically go to the mushroom field to release spores, uniformly manage the reproduction process, and improve the physical quality of the young.]
This was simply standardizing the greenskin's "wild" reproduction method!
The more Kurzadh thought about it, the more excited he became. He simply got up and walked towards the river—the mushroom field needed to be built on fertile land close to a water source. The alluvial flatland by the river looked good; the soil was black and soft when stepped on, just right.
He squatted on the flatland, poked the soil twice with his stone spear, and the greenskin's absurd physiological structure popped into his mind again.
Speaking of which, greenskins were truly "oddities" in the fantasy world.
Other creatures were either male or female, or reproduced by laying eggs, but they were different—green spores flowed in their blood. When injured, the spores could accelerate flesh growth; if a finger or toe was severed, it could actually grow back in a couple of days.
Reproduction was even more bizarre; not only were there no males or females, but when the time came, spores would race throughout their bodies, forcing them to run into the wilderness, wander around, release their spores, and then forget what they had even done.
When he caught Wreelx earlier, that hobgoblin was beaten black and blue, but Kurzadh didn't pay it any mind. Two days later, he looked again, and the swelling on his face had almost disappeared, though his nose was still crooked—that was the spores' ability.
Even more bizarre, he heard that an boss once had an arm chopped off by a dwarf but managed to grow a new one with the help of spores. It was a bit thinner, but he was still just as fierce in battle.
But this method of reproduction was too inefficient. Spores drifted aimlessly, perhaps floating into a swamp, where a newly emerged goblin might be snatched by a crocodile.
Sometimes the tribe lacked manpower, but the spores remained dormant. Then, when they weren't needed, a bunch of small goblin would pop out, eating but not growing, just wasting food .
The larger tribes would fence off an area as a "mushroom garden," but even that was haphazard; they just made sure the goblin didn't defecate there, and whether young would grow was entirely up to luck.
Unlike the system's mushroom field, which could "consistently produce weekly"?
The more Kurzadh thought about it, the more he felt he needed to get the mushroom field built quickly.
He grinned as he poked at the soil—once the mushroom field was built, with 5 goblin a week, in two months the tribe would have a hundred or so people. By then, let alone building the boss's House, even building a stone wall would be enough!
As he was pondering, Dragu scurried over, carrying a half-grown fish: "Boss! We caught some! Wry-Mouth's group did well, they didn't slack off, caught over twenty fish! Enough to eat!"
"Don't cook it yet." Kurzadh stopped him, pointing to the flatland at his feet. "What do you think of this spot? For building a mushroom field, is it suitable?"
Dragu was stunned: "Mushroom field? You mean, the land for... for growing goblin?" He squatted down, felt the soil, and nodded, "It's good! The soil here is fertile, and it's close to the river, so watering is convenient! But... how do we build it? We don't have that 'soil conditioner'."
"We can use rotten mushrooms instead." Kurzadh pointed to a pile of wild mushrooms gathered by the river, all withered. "Have the goblin chop the mushrooms into pieces, mix them into the soil, and then build a simple wooden fence around it. That should do it."
As soon as he finished speaking, he saw Wry-Mouth leading a few hobgoblins back, carrying fishing nets full of jumping fish. Kurzadh called out to him: "Wry-Mouth! Come here!"
Wry-Mouth quickly ran over, head bowed: "Boss, what's wrong?"
"You take ten goblin and chop up that pile of rotten mushrooms by the river, then mix them into this soil!" Kurzadh pointed to the flatland. "Mix it evenly, don't slack off! If you don't finish tonight, you won't get any fish!"
Wry-Mouth dared not delay, immediately replied "Yes," and yelled for ten goblin to come over.
Although the goblin didn't know what they were supposed to do, upon hearing "no fish," they immediately became anxious. They squatted on the ground and started tearing at the mushrooms with their claws, throwing the shredded pieces into the soil, then haphazardly stirring with wooden sticks.
Kurzadh watched them work, then opened the blueprint for the statue of Gork and Mork—this item could increase obedience, and building it would be perfect for keeping the new greenskins in line.
As for the Boss's House... no rush, best to stabilize the people first.
By sunset, the flatland by the river was mostly turned over.
Chopped rotten mushrooms mixed with the black soil, emitting a strange odor. The goblin were still building a palisade with branches nearby, crooked and twisted, just like the previous palisade.
Kurzadh saw that it was almost done and silently said to the system: "Build mushroom field."
[Confirm construction of mushroom field? Consumes Wood x2, Thatch x5, waaagh! energy x20.]
"Confirm."
As soon as the words fell, a faint green light suddenly appeared on the flatland, just like when the shacks were "Blessed" before.
The green light circled the turned-over land, and the mushroom-mixed soil suddenly became even blacker. The half-built palisade also "Grew" straighter, and even the nearby river water seemed to spread towards the flatland, moistening the soil.
The green light flashed twice and then disappeared, but that patch of land looked distinctly different—the soil was loose, vibrant, and even the strange smell in the air had faded a bit.
The goblin working nearby were dumbfounded, their wooden sticks clattering to the ground. They stared wide-eyed at Kurzadh, then at the land, a "Gurgle" sounding in their throats—the boss had "manifested his power" again!
Wry-Mouth also stared, his mouth agape for a long time.
He now truly believed Dragu's words—this goblin must be God's herald by Gork and Mork, otherwise, how could he make the land change itself?
Kurzadh ignored their shock, squatted by the mushroom field, and touched the soil with his hand, feeling very at ease. With this mushroom field, the Blackrock Clan would no longer worry about a shortage of manpower.
"Boss! The fish is cooked!" Dragu shouted from the bonfire.
Kurzadh stood up and walked towards the bonfire. The greenskins in the valley were all gathered around the fire, the fish soup in the pot bubbling "Gurgle, gurgle." Although there was no salt, the aroma drifted far, and the newly joined greenskins stared at the pot, their eyes almost glued to it.
"Everyone, come eat!" Kurzadh shouted.
The greenskins immediately crowded in, scrambling to scoop fish soup, spoonful after spoonful, grimacing from the heat but unwilling to let go.
Wry-Mouth held a broken pottery jar, squatting in a corner and drinking heartily, occasionally looking up at Kurzadh. His eyes no longer held the previous defiance, only genuine awe.
Kurzadh sat by the bonfire and also scooped a bowl of fish soup.
The hot soup warmed his stomach. He looked at the bustling greenskins in the valley and then at the faintly glowing mushroom field by the river, a smile unconsciously curving on his lips.
A Level 1 Village, the mushroom field under construction, and over fifty subordinates... The Blackrock Clan's days were truly beginning.
"Starting tomorrow, we'll build the statue of Gork and Mork." Kurzadh muttered softly to the bonfire, his voice low but firm.
Dragu, who was nearby, heard him and quickly nodded: "Aye! I'll have people move stones first thing tomorrow morning!"