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Chapter 71 Greenskin Civil War? Should I join too?

As the shuttle landed on the planet's surface, Rhodes sensed that something was amiss.

The planet's surface was even more desolate than it appeared from orbit. The gray-brown soil had been eroded by the wind over the years, creating deep gullies. The dry air was filled with swirling dust that clung to the shuttle's windows, casting a gray veil over them.

At the edge of the field of vision was a low hill covered with vegetation, suggesting that there should be a sufficient water source behind the hill.

However, from the shuttle's scanner, Rhodes clearly saw what he least wanted to see on the desolate planet: numerous heat source signals scattered behind the hills, and they were moving toward their landing point.

Less than five minutes after the shuttle's hatch opened and Rhode brought Aliya and her group to the planet, the heat source signals appeared before them.

Green skin.

Where there are green-skinned warships, there will naturally be green-skinned people. This logical chain couldn't be simpler, but Rhodes didn't expect it to happen so quickly.

A group of orc lads emerged from the rocky crevices behind the hills, spreading out in twos and threes within a fifty-meter radius around the shuttle, loosely surrounding Rhodes and his group.

Aliya's hand was already on the handle of the weapon behind her back, while Liriel subtly moved half a step behind Aliya, reaching for the automatic pistol tucked into her waistband.

But Rhodes did not immediately order the firing.

Because he noticed several unusual details.

The group of green-skinned men didn't charge forward yelling, nor did they wave machetes or fire guns into the air in support; they didn't even utter a single "Waaaaaagh."

They maintained a moderate distance, neither too close nor too far, with their guns pointed downwards, seemingly trying to suppress their urge to fight.

What caught Rhodes's attention even more was the equipment of these orc boys. The guns in each of their hands were polished to a shine, and the rust on the metal parts had clearly been artificially smoothed out. The barrels were straight, without the crooked welding marks common on green-skinned weapons. Instead, they looked more like uniform imperial standard equipment.

On their heads, there were even people wearing standard military caps, which looked like they had been taken from the Imperial Army. The caps also had metal badges that looked like they had gotten from somewhere, and two red axes were crossed behind the skulls.

Uniform attire, restrained demeanor, and gleaming firearms.

To the Greenskins, this scene could only be described as "heretical".

Of course, Rhodes narrowed his eyes. For most of the greenskins, they were indeed the most heretical.

Bloodaxe, the least like-minded of the major Greenskin clans.

In the distant past, the Bloodaxe Clan was the ruler of the entire Greenskin society, so powerful that other clans had no choice but to submit.

All of this is because Bloodaxe started engaging in so-called "friendly exchanges" with alien races, especially humans.

They were the first Greenskin clans to clash with the Empire, and also the clans that learned the most human tactics during the long war: ambushes, camouflage, utilizing terrain, and timely retreats to preserve strength when defeat was inevitable. These are basic skills for any human army, but for the Greenskins, who were known for their "charge and fight" mentality, they were practically treasonous.

The other clans had endured it for a long time, but finally they couldn't take it anymore.

A massive civil war, later known to the orcs as the "Great Melee," broke out. All the clans dissatisfied with Bloodaxe's rule united and routed Bloodaxe. Many Bloodaxe youths perished in that war, and the remaining clans were forced to scatter and flee, never to regain their former glory.

Today, the Bloodaxe tribes scattered throughout the galaxy live by working as mercenaries for the Empire in exchange for teeth and supplies, while others become bandits and pirates, occasionally engaging in legitimate trades in addition to robbing—such as reselling Imperial equipment parts salvaged from the battlefield, or serving as bodyguards for certain interstellar merchants who don't care much about the skin color of their partners.

The Imperial government's attitude towards Bloodaxe was also subtle. The Inquisition's official stance was that all greenskins deserved to die, but in practice, many frontline generals and merchants had overt or covert dealings with Bloodaxe.

The Empire would even send out scavenging teams to search for orc corpses on old battlefields and pull out their teeth. Orc teeth were the hard currency of the Greenskin society. The Empire would then hand these teeth over to Bloodaxe in exchange for hiring mercenaries.

The court itself did a lot of work.

This trading chain had been operating for an unknown period of time, and the other clans were furious, not because Bloodaxe had taken "Dirty Tooth," but because they were actually encouraging humans to steal wealth that belonged only to the orcs.

But regardless of what other clans think, the Bloodaxes do possess something on the battlefield that other greenskins lack. Their weapons aren't all invented by the Techies Kids who blow up workshops; most are best acquired through trade.

Their tactics don't rely on shouting, but on their brains. Stealth isn't about diving headfirst into a crowd and going on a rampage, and retreat isn't about running away and dying in droves.

They may not appear as bloodthirsty as other clans, but it's impossible for Bloodaxes to be harmless. Their danger stems from their cunning nature and the orcish-modified tactical thinking they've learned from humans.

They live so that they can enjoy the thrill of shooting down the enemy on the battlefield again.

Sure enough, a green-skinned man, a size larger than the other orc lads, emerged from the encirclement. He wore an officer's cloak draped over his shoulders, a style he seemed to have learned from some imperial officer. His military cap was worn neatly, and his small eyes under the brim were shrewd beyond belief for an orc.

He had a well-maintained bolt pistol tucked into his waistband, and there was even an oilcloth for wiping the barrel sticking out of his pocket, which was an unheard-of level of sophistication among the Greenskins.

It opened its mouth.

The language used is High Gothic.

His pronunciation was even fairly standard. Although the rough voice unique to green-skinned people made some of the rolled "r" sounds a bit awkward, his grammar and vocabulary were flawless. In fact, it was better than some of the high-ranking officials that Rhodes encountered in Blackwing Harbor.

"Humans, what are you doing on Bloodaxe's territory?"

Liriel opened her mouth, then closed it again. She had been a con artist before and had seen many strange and bizarre things, but green-skinned people who could speak High Gothic were truly a first for her. She turned her head and winked at Aliya, who shook her head almost imperceptibly, signaling her not to make any rash moves.

Rhodes wasn't surprised at all. The Bloodaxe Clan had interacted with humans for thousands of years; learning their language was the norm, it would be strange if they hadn't. He removed his hand from the automatic pistol at his waist and glanced at Aria.

"Aliya, please introduce yourself."

Aria loosened the grip of her molten gun, stepped forward, and her golden ponytail swayed gently in the dry wind. Her back was ramrod straight, her blue-gray eyes meeting the Bloodaxe orc's gaze directly at her. Her voice was steady and clear, carrying the unyielding composure befitting someone from an imperial naval family.

"Standing before you is Lord Rod Vandreck, heir to the Kylo Vandreck merchant dynasty. He holds an Imperial Merchant Trade Certificate, granting him the legal authority to conduct all trade activities both within and outside the Imperial borders. He possesses the powerful technology inherited from the Golden Age, and everything he does is based on the interests of the Empire."

The bloodaxe orc's eyelid twitched.

It turned its head to look at Rhodes, then at the shuttle parked behind it, its gaze lingering for a moment on the Vandrick dynasty crest on the shuttle's body before looking away.

"Rogue Trader."

It repeated the word in its slightly accented High Gothic language, its small eyes under the brim of its hat narrowing as if weighing the value of the title.

"interesting."

The green-skinned orc officer who looked like a Bloodaxe orc officer—that's what Rhodes would call him for now—led them through a hidden path behind the hills to the Bloodaxe clan's temporary camp.

Although it's called a camp, it's actually just an outpost set up using natural caves and Imperial-style tents. The camouflage paint on the tents blends in with the surrounding gray-brown rock formations, making them almost indistinguishable from above. Camouflage and concealment—that's definitely Bloodaxe's style.

Aliya walked half a step behind Rhodes, her eyes constantly observing the equipment and defensive formations of the Bloodaxe Orcs around them.

She noticed that there were two hidden sentry posts at the camp entrance, positioned in the shadows of the rocks, with their crossfire covering the entire path. If it weren't for the Bloodaxe officer leading the way, anyone who dared to rush in would be hit by fire from both directions at the same time. This sentry post configuration was almost exactly the same as a certain standard in the Astrail Forces' combat manual.

"Your sentry posts are well set up," Aliya said calmly in High Gothic, her tone neither praising nor polite, but more like a soldier's professional assessment of another soldier.

The Bloodaxe officer turned his head and glanced at her, his small eyes under the brim of his hat flashing, and he grinned, revealing a set of yellow teeth, seemingly pleased with what she had said.

"I learned it from you humans. I've flipped through your shrimp's field manual, and it's not badly written."

"—You guys are still reading the Astronautical Army's field manual?" Lillie muttered under her breath, her red hair still damp with sand kicked up by the shuttle's landing. "Am I doing something wrong? Or am I still half asleep?"

Aliya ignored her and continued talking to the Bloodaxe officer. As they passed through the camp, she subtly extracted a lot of information from him through her questions.

A civil war is breaking out on this desolate planet.

The warring parties are the Bloodaxe Clan and the Fel Sun Clan. Civil wars between orcs are commonplace, and the struggle for territory between different clans is a daily spectacle across the galaxy.

The Blood Axe in front of us is a small branch that was scattered and ended up here after the "Great Chaos". It has taken root on this planet and barely survived by relying on its tactical skills and occasionally doing some business with passing human caravans.

Until the Evil Sun Clan arrived.

"Evil Sun?" Aliya frowned slightly. "How many have come?"

"Many. Several times more than us." The Bloodaxe officer's tone was unusually heavy. "And those lunatics all drove here."

The Evil Sun Clan is the craziest, fastest, and noisiest group in the Greenskin society. They are obsessed with speed, and their love for wheels and engines is etched into their genes. Their number of tech-savvy kids far exceeds that of other clans. They are all fanatical car mechanics, constantly thinking about how to make the engine bigger and the vehicle's firepower more exaggerated. The noise alone can rupture the fragile eardrums of ordinary people.

"Painting the chariots red" is the most basic tenet of the Evil Sun Clan, because red chariots run fast. This is common sense that every orc knows from the day they are born, even if this "common sense" is not physically sound, the collective belief of waaaaaagh makes it a reality to some extent.

Those who can't afford a car will run at the fastest speed their legs can handle, while racking their brains and saving up to buy one. Those who can afford a car will remove the brakes, because brakes are something only cowards need. Then they'll crash headlong into the center of the battlefield at an absurd speed, crushing everything or blowing themselves and their car into fireballs. As long as the speed in the last few seconds before they die is exhilarating, that's all that matters.

As for the pilots of the Evil Sun, they are the most stubborn group of lunatics in the entire galaxy. They have no skills in flying and rely entirely on their senses. They have no concept of self-protection and often leave the Imperial pilots dumbfounded.

"The Evil Sun's convoy can cross half the continent in a few hours," the Blood Axe officer ignored Liriel and continued to Aria. "We have tactics; we can ambush, we can guerrilla, we can hit and run. But the enemy has more people and more vehicles, and they're advancing too fast. By the time we've set up our defenses, they'll have already overrun us. The front line has shrunk from most of the continent to this hilly area; if we retreat any further, there'll be nowhere left to retreat to."

Aliya was silent for two seconds, then slightly tilted her head toward Rhodes, her eyes seeking instructions.

Rhodes maintained a composed expression, but his mind was racing. The mission description on the system panel was still there: bring this planet under the control of the Vandrick dynasty. So, you want me to wade into the muddy waters of this Greenskin civil war?

As for the green-skinned pirate ship in orbit that has been blasted with a huge hole, it was probably just trying to recruit some slacker orcs who couldn't fit into the clans into its ranks because it saw the two clans fighting so fiercely on this planet. It has nothing to do with the civil war itself.

Before Rhode could finish mentally complaining about the system's mission, which was practically killing him, the Bloodaxe Orc who looked like an officer spoke first.

It pushed up the brim of its military cap, its shrewd little eyes staring straight at Rod, its tone even bordering on polite.

"Wandering Merchant, since you have an army, it's easier for us to talk. I have a suggestion: you send some men to be our Blood Axe's mercenaries and help us take care of those crazy Evil Sun bastards who only know how to step on the gas. After that, if you have any other requests, you can tell our boss."

Rod's expression remained unchanged.

But only one sentence remained in his mind.

Huh? Do I have to participate too?