In the Orcs' King's tent, although the orcs' sacrifice ceremony has ended, after the orcs ended the war with the elves, they actually did nothing. They either fought each other or fought each other every day.

Next to the king's tent, Dilong fought with the most powerful adjutant. Neither of them used to use the totem, but were fighting with their own strength.

Dillon's fists, knee strikes, and elbow strikes were all gone.

The adjutant kept dodging, sweat flew across his forehead, and the chief's strength increased day by day, and he was improving rapidly every day.

"When will you hide?"

Diron roared, and grabbed the adjutant's arms with both hands. In a panic, the adjutant roared angrily and wanted to break free.

Dillon curled his lips. "Mother-in-law, I'm so troublesome."

He suddenly raised his adjutant and lifted it into the air, letting him struggle in the air, and then suddenly threw him on the wet mud behind him.

Bang ~

The adjutant fell to his eyes.

Dillon turned around and reached out to the adjutant on the ground.

The adjutant got up from the ground and saw the chief's palm stretching over. He smiled bitterly and put it on the chief's palm.

He stood up from the ground.

"Sir, you are truly the number one warrior under God the Father."

Dillon raised his eyebrows. “Enhance exercise and stop talking nonsense.”

At this time, Diron heard an orc approaching, a relatively thin orc. Diron frowned. It was not because the orc did not report and suddenly visited, because other orcs could not remember the rules.

However, he was not very fond of the relatively thin orcs.

"What are you doing?"

Diron left the mud pit, walked up, and stood burly in front of the orc.

The orc was holding a utensil covered with gray cloth in his hand and was slightly nervous at Dillon, but he still plucked up the courage and said to Dillon: "Sir, I am an inconspicuous orc."

"I know you." Dillon exposes him mercilessly. "You once wanted to enter my army, and I thought you were an excellent orc, so I asked you to try to join, but you allowed me to see the weakest orc's lower limit."

"You actually withdrew from the team because you can't bear the hardships of our cavalry. But that's nothing. You can do it well in an ordinary army."

"Attoman, is there anything you have to do with me?"

When Atoman heard the Chief say this, he looked happy. Yes, although he may not be as physically as other orcs, he can also find a place to play to his strengths.

Atorman lifted the gray cloth in his hand, revealing a very rough piece in his hand, which looked like a bad work from a small workshop, something that children pieced together casually.

Dillon looked over with his eyes squinted. “What is this?”

Atorman said to the chief excitedly: "Sir, this is a gun I made that can fire fishing nets. The power comes from the tendons of the ceratops. This is the principle invented by the elves to make torque trenchers. Pigman engineers have learned this, so I specially asked them for advice."

"So what?" Dillon was a little impatient.

Atorman did not notice the chief's contemptuous look, and continued: "This fishnet gun has been improved by me and the old Pig Man engineer, weighs a ton. Only our orcs can carry this fishnet gun without affecting their mobility."

"Sir, have you noticed that the elves and the others have the feathered snakes in the air? I specifically asked Lord Marlinnie. I found that the speed of the wolf running with all his strength is faster than the speed of the feathered snake flying in the air."

"However, the feathered snake is flying in the air, with a wide field of vision and a large attack range."

"The maneuverability of our cavalry will be compressed, and we have no Air Force disadvantages, and it will appear."

"So...so...I made this fishnet gun, which can shoot at a distance of two hundred and fifty meters perpendicular. The special triangle fishnet will spread in the air, wrap around the feathers of the feathers, interfere with their flight, and even knock them down."

"This is a weapon against the air."

Atorman fired a shot in front, and heard the sound of a heavy fishing net gun inside the sound, and then a gray net fired forward and landed on a rock in the distance.

"Sir, do you think this can be equipped in your army?" Atoman said to Dillon with interest.

Chief Dilong raised his thick eyebrows and hugged his chest with his hands. He looked at his adjutant and showed a helpless look.

The adjutant also smiled at his chief and shook his head.

Athorman ran to Dillon. "Sir, the wolf cavalry has this weapon and can deal with the elves' air force."

"However, you can only send one shot at a time."

Dillon patted Atorman on the shoulder, and his tone improved a lot. "Atoman, I know your feelings, very well, at least I know that you are working hard, this is more important than anything else."

Dearon took the fishnet gun in his hand, pinched the gun with two fingers, and put it in the sun to look left and right. "This thing is not bad, too."

Atorman smiled. “Well, the prophet told me that there are many ways to serve God the Father, no matter what the method is good.”

"Sir..."

Dillon patted his shoulder again. "Hold your toys and go, Athorman."

The smile on Atorman's face froze.

"Chief...What do you mean? I don't understand, what do you mean?"

Dillon said to him: "Your toys are very innovative, but it's just not doing their jobs and it's useless. Our orcs' wolf cavalry troops are naturally equipped with bows and arrows. Bows and arrows are serious weapons of war, not things like you that can only be used as toys for orcs and pigs."

"Attoman, I've realized your efforts."

"The Father God must have witnessed your efforts, but there are differences in efforts. You have worked hard in the wrong direction."

"If you are interested, I can teach you how to exercise, strengthen your body, and make totems. These are the root of orcs."

Dillon threw the fishing net gun back into his arms.

Atorman hurriedly rushed over with a fishing net gun. "Sir, please wait a moment. It is necessary to develop new air-to-air weapons. Not only are bows and arrows, but also weapons made by our orcs themselves.

"Chief, please wait a moment."

"My weapon is not a toy, it is really not a toy."

"Sir, I heard from the elves druids around Lord Marlinnie that the elves are building buildings on the plateau, purifying the land, and developing new spells. The elves are becoming stronger and stronger, but we are drinking and eating meat in the lowlands, fighting and duels, and we are standing still."

"You should let your orcs learn the system of elves, plan and build houses, cultivate fields, fish and so on..."

A thick hand stopped Attorman.

It was Dilong's adjutant, who raised his eyebrows and had a fierce face.

Dillon's adjutant forbid him to take another step forward. He looked at Atoman as if he were looking at the clown, winking.

"Do you know what I want to say to you? I think you are like a fool."

"These things are not something you, an ordinary orc, should consider, and you don't have the ability."

"You don't have to worry about these things. What's the use of thinking about so many useless things?"

"The Prophet and the Chief will consider it."

"I advise you to get out immediately, otherwise I will teach you how to speak with my fists."

Athorman jumped back in fear.

He looked at the adjutant hatefully, but because he was afraid of his fists, he didn't dare to say anything.

He just stamped his feet and turned and left.

The adjutant looked at his disappearing back and smiled contemptuously.

Atorman left the tent and walked through the mountains and fields. Every step he took felt his heart full of anger. Perhaps he shouldn't have left the elves kingdom and came to the orc territory.

At least, the elves have never treated themselves like this.

The elves knew the meaning of the weapons he made. The noble elves never despised any technological progress because of their magic.

Athorman felt that he should escape back to the elves' territory while night.

Because of anger, Athorman kept wandering in the peach forest, walking a path repeatedly.

He used this method to dispel the anger in his heart.

When passing through another peach wood, an unexpected figure appeared in front of him.

It's the orc prophet!

The orc prophet looked at Athorman with a smile. "Young man, isn't this Athorman? What's wrong with you? I always think you are one of the few smart people among orcs. I like you very much. What makes you so angry."

Atorman hesitated for a moment and told the prophet everything.

The prophet pretended that it was the first time he had heard of the whole process of this matter. He showed that admiring look, like a sparkling lake, and he pressed his hand on Atorman's shoulder.

“I think what you do makes a lot of sense.”

"Dilon, after all, I'm still too young and can do war, but I have no experience in other aspects."

"As for his adjutant? It's not that I look down on him, but that kind of orc with low quality is brainless. It's like this for the rest of your life, and you can only be a follower of Dillon. As for you, Athorman, I admire you, I want to invite you to help me manage orcs, what do you think?"

Atorman showed excitement and grievance. "Master Prophet."

"I do."

The prophet showed a comforting smile at the right time and patted him on the back. "Good boy."

The prophet narrowed his eyes.

The eyeliner arranged in Dilon's guards played a role. If it weren't for this, I wouldn't have the opportunity to win people's hearts.

Dillon, you are still too young.
Chapter completed!