Bloody Hand Ripper Moglong was dragged forward in the mud by several orcs, and the arms that once terrified all the tribes of the Western Canyon were reduced to a half-amputated arm less than half a foot long, and even the leg was left intact, and he was exhausted from dozens of days of captivity. He also knew that this was the last time, and he didn't use the last bit of strength to struggle in vain, just waiting for the orcs of the Thunder Tribe around him to drag him to the altar.

The orc decapitator who carried out the slaughter was already sweating profusely, and the sweat pooled into a stream of sweat that rolled down the green scalp and landed on the already splattered body of blood, giving the orc an eerie black color that was shiny and shiny. Looking at the last captive dragged up, the beheader took a few breaths, suddenly put down the machete in his hand, which was already full of gaps, and asked, "Is this the chief of Mogron?"

"Yes. The Bloody Hand Ripper tried to stand as firm as he could with the remaining strength, and before the orcs behind him could speak, he replied with his head held high. "The Bloody Hand Ripper who had torn apart a hundred and fifty-four Skulls of Thunder, Mogroon's bravest warrior and the last chieftain. ”

"Good. "The decapitator is an orc over forty years old, which is considered old for ordinary orcs. He waved his hand and motioned for the captives to be brought over. "My brother, my sons should all die at your hands. Although I am not on the battlefield, I am very happy to be able to cut off your head for the ancestral spirit with my own hands. ”

"Come on. The Ripper used all his remaining strength to break free from the hands of the orcs guarding behind him, and limped himself in front of the decapitator. "Those who died at my hands were true warriors. The ancestral spirits of Moglong are very happy with their lives, and now that it is up to me, let you Thunder Fury Ancestral Spirits and Beast Gods bear witness to my life. ”

The decapitator said no more, and raised the machete and slashed at Mogroon Bloody Hand with all his strength. With a click, the machete, which was already full of gaps, finally broke in two, and the head of the Bloody Hand Ripper Mogronn flew up, and the headless corpse spewed out large strands of scarlet blood, shook a few times and fell.

Fighting, fighting, killing, sacrificing to ancestral spirits and beast gods, this is the eternal theme song between orcs. Even in the period of confrontation with the Empire, such internal strife never stopped in the steppe, and every orc obeyed this primordial mark deeply rooted in the depths of his life, excited by the battle and never feared to be killed, life itself was only a gift from the ancestors and the beast gods, and it was bound to glorify them in the end.

At the bottom of the huge altar, the corpses and heads of the slaughtered captives were piled up like a hill, and the blood that flowed from them had filled the three stone vats that were specially held for them, all of which were orcs of other tribes captured in the tribal wars. In the aftermath of war, the blood sacrifice of the enemy's life was the favorite thing of the ancestral spirits.

At the top of the altar are dozens of rusty, assorted weapons that were used by the tribe's former chieftains, heroic warriors, and who now serve as their sustenance for the ancestral spirits who feast on the life unleashed by the captives. At this moment, one of the Thunder Skull Clan's once greatest enemies, the last chief of the Moglong Clan, was sacrificed, those weapons began to shake slightly, and the vague transparent orc image on it loomed, it was the ancestral spirits cheering, and the orcs around the altar could feel a resonance from the deepest part of the bloodline, this was the cheers of the ancestral spirits.

This excitement from the bloodline made all the orcs completely excited, and the high howls came one after another, and many orcs danced and jumped non-stop, raising and waving the weapons they carried with them.

"Chief, the captives have run out...... The Mogro Bloody Hand just now was already the last member of the Mogrolong clan. The Chief Priest's Skull-Crusher, Healing Beast, Thunder Breath was quiet in the howling wave, and he walked briskly over to the Chieftain's Abomination End of War and whispered.

"Hmm. The end of the war nodded, unfazed by this extremely rare grand festival. He and Thunder Breath, the two highest-ranking people in the clan, also appeared to be the calmest in this festival. He just asked in a low voice, "Hasn't the Son of the Wind shown up yet?"

"Not ...... yet," the chief priest shook his head, and he also had a very strange expression. "According to the response of the ancestral spirits, the soul of the son of the wind has responded to the bloodline call of the ancestral spirits, but there seems to be something hindering him, or he himself is a little reluctant to come back..."

"Then go ahead. "The end of the war said lightly.

“... But there are no more captives ... But then I'm afraid there won't be enough food to survive the winter this year—" Thunder breathed hesitantly. Of course, the ancestral spirits love the captives of war, and the blood and food of livestock are secondary, but the importance of livestock to the tribe is far greater than that of captives. Unlike ordinary orcs, who are simply keen on fighting and sacrificing ancestral spirits, he knows very well that the battle between the orcs and tribes on the grassland is actually rooted in the pasture that the livestock need, that is, food.

"Use livestock first. Then prepare for a war with the Running Bull tribe, and add their livestock and pastures. ”

The expression at the end of the war was very flat, but the face of Thunder Breath had changed a little, and the tribal war against Moglong had just ended, and the tribe's vitality was far from recovering. He couldn't help but say: "Although our strength is superior to that of the Benniu tribe, there is no conflict with the territory of the Benniu now, and there is no need to take the initiative to launch a tribal bloody war......

"As you say, our livestock will soon be insufficient, isn't it necessary?" The voice of the end of the war was calm, but the content of the words made Thunder's breath palpitate. This may be the shortest chieftain in the steppes who bears the name of the end of the war, but this does not mean that he is peaceful, but that in his hands the tribal wars that often last for many years or even generations will soon come to an end—with his victory, of course. Since he became chieftain, he has put an end to the conflict between the Skull of Thunder and the other three tribes that have lasted for decades or even centuries. And at this moment, he announced in a tone like eating that a war was about to start that was not actually necessary for orcs in the traditional sense.

He may be more like a human than a wild orc who is rough and violent and obedient to his heart. A scheming and ambitious human being.

The clergyman's Thunder Breath had a much longer lifespan than the average orc, which gave him plenty of knowledge, he had dealt with the Arcanists and the human commanders, but he still had an incomprehensible sense of awe when facing this young and short chieftain.

At this time, the end of the war was a gesture, and a tall orc screaming in front of the altar immediately came over.

It was an orc that was more than twice as tall and thick as the end of the war, and the muscles and muscles of his body were tangled together like rocky vines, like a moving fortress of muscles, and the fangs that poked out his mouth seemed to bite and swallow any creature in front of him at any moment. He wore a simple armor made of a mixture of carapace and animal skin, and a grotesque blade as long as the end of war was tied around his waist, and the overall structure was smooth and symmetrical far beyond the metallurgy of any orc, which was clearly part of the body of a Adamantite War Golem. The knife dragged all the way to the ground, making a grinding sound as the orc walked, and the throbbing of his muscles combined with the beating of his muscles to form a ferocious, murderous rhythm.

But when the fierce orc walked in front of the end of the war, which was only as high as his chest, he immediately knelt down, showed a look of respect and awe, and whispered, "The great war is over, and the Thunder Stone and the Blade of Fury are at your command. ”

"You immediately lead five of your most elite warriors, disguised as herdsmen, to the ranches of the Galloping Horse Tribe, looking for an opportunity to stir up a dispute. If possible, kill a few of their shamans or priests, and of course the chieftains. ”

The order for the end of the war is not a quarrel, a declaration of war, and a battle to slash and kill each other, as in the orc tradition, but more like a despicable assassination. This made the priest of the beast god feel a little uncomfortable, but he didn't speak, generally speaking, the old priest is the most authoritative in the tribe, but in principle, they have no right to interfere in tribal affairs, and this chief has already proved his status and right to speak with his outstanding achievements.

And the strength of the end of the war itself is by no means as inconspicuous as it seems like his size. If you want to sit in the position of chief in the orc tribe, you can't rely on brains and calculations alone.

"Yes, I will bring back the heads of those galloping horses to dedicate to the ancestral spirits. The berserk blade stood up, the muscles of his face and body writhing, and the hideous and violent aura almost burst out of it without restraint.

At this moment, the sound of violent electric light exploding sounded, and a small thunderstorm seemed to erupt in the middle of the altar.

"It's finally here. I sensed the spirit of the Children of the Wind communicating with the ancestral spirits. Thunder breathed a long sigh of relief, as long as he succeeded in calling the Children of the Wind now, then the next sacrifices and unnecessary wars could be avoided.

But after the lightning flashed, it was not the spirit of the Children of the Wind that everyone had hoped for that appeared in the middle of the altar, but three humans. This stunned all the orcs, and even the chief, who had always been calm and calm, was stunned.

"Arcanist!" the furious blade was the first to react, and when he saw the mage robes on one of them, he roared angrily and recognized that these were enemies, and drew the golem blade from his waist and slashed at the three men with a single leap. His body was as strong as a brute bull, but this leap was as agile as a pika, and the fighting spirit on his body exploded violently, and this knife directly twitched the air tens of meters around him, making a roar like thunder, as if to split the three people along with the entire altar.

In fact, with such a full force of the Furious Blade, it was indeed able to easily smash this ten-meter stone platform into pieces. The orcs who can be crowned with the title of 'Juggernaut' are all true warriors who are outstanding in body and combat talent. Even in the hundred years that they have been crushed by the Arcane Empire, this kind of orc warrior is an enemy that the imperial army will never dare to despise, the orcs are born with wild and majestic life energy, and the natural affinity for the laws of the beast god, so that their fighting spirit is far superior to any human in terms of 'quantity', and even 'quality' is not much worse, even if it is a crude weapon made of stones and bone weapons, it can easily dismantle the military golem, and now he still holds an invincible pure gold giant blade in his hand, this full force blow can almost split a small mountain.

Obviously, the orc sword master's quick and swift reaction was completely instinctive, and he didn't even think that this blow could completely destroy their own ancestral spirit altar. The chief priest who saw this scene looked horrified, but it was too late to stop it.

There was a muffled bang, and all the orcs around felt a majestic vibration, but the altar was fortunately still intact, except that the leaping sword of the berserk blade was caught. The concussive aftermath of the knife shook everyone around them, but the altar and the people on it were intact.

The one who caught the sword was the strongest of the three, and he put his hands together in a strange half-crouching position, and he firmly sandwiched the sword that could split the hill, and the violent impact all escaped into the surrounding air and the earth under his feet, and then he looked around with a strange smile, and then looked at the furious blade, which was taller and stronger than him, and said, "What is this place? ”

The next moment, his fist slammed into the chest of the Berserk Blade, sending the muscular fortress-like orc flying and tumbling down the altar.

"Here it is...... The ancestral spirit altar of an orc in the southern grasslands?How is it possible?How can they summon the soul of a high-ranking priest of the Wind Elemental God?" The man in the mage robe among the three seemed to finally see the surrounding situation clearly, and exclaimed loudly. And his voice also woke all the orcs from their shock, the shamans let out a roar, calling for the ancestral spirits on the altar, and the furious blade that had just rolled to the ground also roared, and jumped up from the ground to rush towards it.

A burst of brilliant rainbow light suddenly swept by, and the furious blade that had just wanted to rush up again kicked out a big dirt pit on the ground with his feet, and turned from the momentum of rushing forward to a backward flight dozens of meters away, and when he landed, the rainbow light had disappeared, leaving only a bottomless ditch on the ground.

This is a destructive arcane with an extremely high ring count. Although the surrounding shamans and priests did not know how to use arcane arts, they had been fighting with the Southern Legion for so many years, and they did not know much about arcane arts, and they immediately understood that these three people were extremely dangerous arcanists.

But this is where their ancestral spirit altar is located, and they will not back down in the slightest no matter what, and the ancestral spirit will lend them the greatest strength. Immediately, a shaman slashed his wrist and spilled blood into the sky. The blood that flew out instantly turned into mist and dissipated, and the smell of blood in the air suddenly became even stronger, and the orc phantoms floating on the weapons seemed to be more condensed in this smell of blood. Shamans do not serve the beast gods, but only focus on communicating with the ancestral spirits, and by sacrificing their own life force, they can temporarily exert the full power of the ancestral spirits.

Thunder Breath also clenched the scepter in his hand. It is very likely that he is an archmage, that man can repel the Blade of Berserk, and he is also an unimaginably powerful warrior, but it is absolutely wrong for them to choose this time and this place to appear, the ancestral spirits who have just held a grand sacrifice can definitely temporarily suppress the power of the magic net in this area, and the end of welcoming them is only to become a sacrifice to the ancestral spirits.

"Wait!Stop!" a loud voice swept over, stopping the orcs who were about to make a move.

It was hard to imagine that his body could make such a giant-like whistling sound, which shook everyone's eardrums. And he actually spoke in both orc and imperial lingua franca, apparently including the three humans on the altar.

The orcs obeyed the chief's orders and stopped, and the three humans did not move. At this time, the ancestral spirits on the altar began to dance, and although the sounds they made could not be heard by the orcs, it could be seen that they seemed to be more active and excited than before.

The chief priest, however, could feel that the ancestral spirits were converging the power they had gained through the sacrifice and converging it into an object. It was the corpse of a large bird that appeared on the altar with the three humans, but the three humans were so conspicuous that the orcs didn't even notice such a thing at their feet, and now there seemed to be something in the corpse that was communicating with the ancestral spirits, guiding their power to flow there.

Soon, tiny thunderbolts and whirlwinds continued to spawn around the big bird, and the shamans noticed the anomaly of the ancestral spirits, but their best efforts to communicate with the ancestral spirits had no effect, and the ancestral spirits seemed to be very excited about it. The generated electric light gradually converged on the large bird's corpse, and then circulated endlessly on the bird's body, which seemed to slowly expand as if it was inflated, and after a few minutes, a huge bird's corpse that was two meters tall just standing, and its whole body was flowing with electric light.

It's just corpses, indeed. The thunder breath could be felt very clearly, this huge bird had no heartbeat, temperature and any other signs of life, it was just a complete body, and now it was only the majestic wind elemental power around it that supported this bird corpse to stand up. This seems to be an elemental creature from the elemental realm, and even a simple corpse has a strong elemental law attraction.

Suddenly, the cheers of the ancestral spirits reached the climax, and the huge bloodline power seemed to have finally pried into some key point in this bird corpse, and a faint vitality ignited on this corpse, and then spread and grew rapidly like wildfire, and this corpse, which was completely lifeless a second ago, actually had life.

The giant bird raised its head and opened its eyes, but it was not an eyeball below, but a dazzling electric light condensed to the extreme, it looked at the end of the war under the altar, and without speaking, the air around it vibrated by itself and made a voice: "Father, I am back." ”