This barrier has been broken. Two large gates still hung from the gates, but one of them was so dilapidated that the lower half of it was no longer known where it had been smashed, and even the tallest carriage could pass under it. The skulls of many of the dried humans were threaded in strings and hung under the lintel, a brutal tactic used by the Blackstone Orcs to intimidate their enemies into deterring them from opposing them, but in fact, no determined human would be intimidated by them, and this brutality would have aroused the hatred and vengeance in their hearts.

Standing beneath the wall, stuck between the two mountains, Windsol couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. The pass was built during the Second World War with the help of the dwarves. This huge pass was once impregnable, but no matter how strong the walls were, they would be breached one day, not to mention that Stormwind's repeated deployment of troops had long since made it defenseless and empty, and it would no longer be as impregnable as its appearance. In front of the large catapult brought by the Blackstone Orcs, it was unsurprisingly broken.

It may be that the human race has passed, and the orcs have left no man at this pass. They calmed down and moved on.

Not far from the pass, Diego and the others saw a broken catapult abandoned on the side of the road. Orc creations are always like this, rudimentary, crude, and more importantly cheap, but they often fall apart after a few uses.

They walked for another hour and the steep walls of the mountains gradually flattened here, and the distance between the two mountains was widened, and some high and low mountain bags appeared between the valleys, and the view became wider.

Diego turned his head to look back, and the red sky of the burning plains of the north leaked only a narrow line between the steep mountain walls, looking like a moat.

Diego remembers that the canyon trail they had just walked was called the Black Rock Trail a few years later. It wasn't originally called by that name, but with the invasion of the Blackstone Orcs, the people of Lakeside Town gave it that name, and over time, people got used to its new name, and the original name faded into oblivion.

Diego also remembers that the canyon had a westward branch. In that valley was the camp of the Blackstone Orcs' Ripper Legion, the main force of the invasion of the Red Ridge Mountains. These orcs are always behind the dirt bag to ambush those who dare to pass by, and rob the property. In fact, this is also how most of the tribal orcs in the orc wars are supplied. The green-skinned monsters that invaded Azeroth had no concept of logistics at all, and their supplies depended entirely on plundering humans and other natives of Azeroth, and sometimes they didn't spare even poor ghosts like the Gnolls, and the sky was three feet high where they passed.

"We need to be careful." Diego said cautiously, pulling the reins of the Kodomon and motioning for it to go slower. However, he did not expect to slip through quietly, for the sound of the Kodo's footsteps could be heard by deaf people half a mile away. However, he still used a few pieces of wool to tie the drumsticks of the Kodomon drums tightly so that they would not make a sound. He wasn't sure if the orc robbers were keeping an eye on the passage every day, or if they were doing it once in a while. Because in the former diligence rankings of the intelligent races of Azeroth, the orcs who drank the blood of demons were only more diligent than the gnolls and ogres, but they were also limited.

He pulled his rifle from the pouch at Kodomon's side, loaded it, and looked warily at the mountain bags in the distance.

Wendthor also took the shield from the side of the horse and held it in his hand.

At that moment, a gunshot shook the valley.

Diego, who was still looking around, felt as if he had been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer, and with a muffled grunt, rolled off the back of the Kodomon.

"It's broken, it's ambushed." Diego was shocked, and it wasn't until he rolled on the ground a few times that he had regained his ability to think before he realized that he had been hit in the right chest. However, the bullet did not penetrate the protection of Aznar's food, but instead stuck to it. In other words, this scale armor is not the first time to save his life, and this alone is enough for him to deal with Kotaz? The Black Hammer and the Thorsilver Brotherhood were grateful.

The orc musket is different from the dwarf musket, the orc musket is not so precise, its airtightness is far less than the dwarf musket, often when firing, the front and back of the barrel are spewing fire, more than one orc gunner has been smacked with gunpowder slag, and there are not a few who have been blinded. They can't even unify the shape of the projectiles, some of which are not even round, and often when loaded from the muzzle, they slip halfway to the chamber and get stuck, and they can't push it in with a stick. As for the problems of duds and bombs, not to mention the failures, the list goes on. Therefore, the penetration of orc muskets is generally not very high, especially when encountering protected targets, it is difficult to penetrate. However, despite all these problems, orc hunters still enjoy using them, and they seem to have a love for this deafening weapon.

Of course, the muskets made by the orcs were not without merit. They look stupid and stupid, but they are sturdy and durable, and their accuracy does not decrease with the increase in the number of firings, of course, their accuracy is not good in the first place, and no matter how low it is, it will not be bad there. What's more, when it's too late to reload, the orcs can also use it as a stick, and the strength of the orcs and the weight of the musket itself make this stick not less powerful at all. The orc craftsmen didn't even think to design a place for it to mount bayonets.

"Diego! Are you hurt? The Night Elf had already completed his cheetah transformation, and he hid behind the warhorse that had been ordered to lie down, looking anxiously at this side. He hadn't been hit in the attack just now, and Windsol was unharmed by the thick plate armor, and the latter even calmly dismounted and hid in the rain of bullets.

"I'm fine, can you lean in?" Diego leaned against the corner of a rock and listened to the bullets whizzing overhead. Just listening to this firing frequency, there are at least two dozen orcs shooting on the opposite side, you know, the orc muskets have never been known for their rate of fire, and they can fire four rounds per minute, which is almost their limit. He didn't ask where the orcs were, for the light could be seen from the trajectory of the bullets flying overhead.

"I'm afraid not, I can withstand a few shots, but I'm afraid I'll be beaten into a fishing net before I can rush over." The Night Elf said worriedly, even if he transformed into a giant bear, the unobstructed open field in front of him would be enough for him to drink a pot. Although the thick bear skin can reduce the damage he takes, it is not completely defensible, and he can't stand it even if he gets too many guns.

"I'm coming!" Just then, Diego heard someone whispering from behind him, and he turned his head to see Windsor carrying his shield past him and rushing towards the mountain.

"Cover me!" Windsor whispered, the Stormwind City heraldic shield blocking his upper body and head, revealing only one eye to observe the enemy.

In fact, the moment he stood up, the orc ambushers noticed him and immediately shifted their target. The whizzing projectiles clanged over the steel shield, but nothing was left but white marks. Even those bullets that weren't blocked by the shield didn't pose a threat to his thick plate armor.

Attracted by Windthor by the orc's attention, Diego rolled out from behind the rock. He raised his gun, and without even aiming carefully, he fired.

He was half-kneeling, and instead of closing one eye, both eyes were open. But when the attention is on the left eye, searching for the target, the next second, the attention will be shifted to the right eye that is aiming.

Shoot, shoot, shoot and shoot again...... Diego didn't even pay attention to whether he hit the enemy or not. But there is no need to observe, he has absolute confidence to take out the target. As long as the orcs on the other side of the mountain pack dare to show their upper body or even just their heads, they are on his death list. Almost in the blink of an eye, a patch fell on the small hill pack, and it looked even neater than the wheat field after the harvest.

The orcs shouted and screamed, and they only dared to crouch behind the slope, put their guns above their heads with both hands, and rushed here and there to shoot indiscriminately. But by this time, Diego had already exhausted all eight bullets in the magazine in one go, and flashed back behind the rock again.

With such a delay, Wendthor had already rushed up. He wasn't very fast at first, but as the distance got closer, especially as he approached twenty-five yards, he ran faster and faster, and it looked like a puff of smoke, almost pulling out a shadow. To be honest, in Diego's opinion, even if Bolt is wearing this heavy armor, he can't run so fast!

In the blink of an eye, Wendthor had rushed past the top of the slope. With a loud crash, a gray-green figure soared into the air and flew out.

The orcs were visibly panicked, some of the orcs who had not had time to reload their bullets swung their muskets and pounced, while others tried to take aim with their guns in hand, but they did not dare to shoot at the chaotic warband, lest they hurt their teammates. But just then, behind them, with a deafening roar, a huge brown bear suddenly appeared behind them and pounced.

The orcs were powerless to fight back in front of the bear, and although some people fired in a panic, the projectile was an itch to the thick-skinned bear. Everywhere the druid passed, tendons were broken and blood was splattered. To add insult to injury, a yellow leopard appeared on the other side of the crowd without knowing when, with a pair of sharp claws and fangs to do the trick of stealing chickens and dogs.

The orcs finally crumbled under the onslaught of Windthor and the two beasts, and they scattered in all directions, some even fleeing to Diego's side in a panic, and then unsurprisingly being thrown to the ground. However, a few escaped from the net.

By the time Diego reached the top of the slope, the battle was over. Masrae had reverted to his human form, crouching on the ground gasping for breath. Windsor stood to the side—he couldn't even sit down when he was wearing heavy armor. Because if once he sat down, he couldn't even get up on his own without help.

"No, look at this, you might be useful." Seeing Diego coming, Masrae stood up and handed something over.

It was a monocular, and it looked like a goblin artifact, possibly the property of some unfortunate goblin merchant. Its orc owner apparently didn't pay attention to the maintenance of it, and the surface was covered with a thick layer of green rust.

Diego took it and gave it a brief look, then slipped it into his belt. He took his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. After a while, the huge figure of the Kodomon appeared in the direction of the road from which it had come. The orc's bullet hadn't hit it just now, and it was well-trained enough to know what to do, so it found a place to hide after Diego rolled off its back.

This made Masrae a little envious, he and Wendthor had just been shot twice, but fortunately, they were all flesh wounds, and after his spell treatment, they should be almost recovered after a while.

Diego walked over and straightened the saddle on the back of the Kodomon. In fact, he was using these actions to hide his regret and self-blame, as well as the shame of rashly stepping into the ambush circle knowing that there were Blackstone orcs here.

All along, inadvertently, the smooth sailing after the crossing has made him paralyzed and careless. Repeated successes also made him a little complacent, and no one was in sight. Although he already knew that there might be an orc here, he stepped in anyway. If it weren't for the Mithril Scale Armor, he would have suffered a great loss this time, and perhaps his journey to Azeroth would have come to an abrupt end, and it might have ended forever. Strictly speaking, this is no longer just about underestimating the enemy, but stupidity, stupidity that comes with blind confidence. After staying in this world for a long time, he has long lost the tension and caution of walking on thin ice when he first crossed, for ordinary people, excessive pride will only make people complacent, but for adventurers, paralysis and carelessness will only have one consequence, that is, death.

"What's next? Do you want to keep going or ......" He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and groaned, he looked in the direction of the orcs' rout, and was surprised to find that these blackstone orcs were not as determined as the orcs he had seen before, and they didn't seem to be ashamed of running away, which was extremely rare among orcs, which may have something to do with their lack of shaman's spur and encouragement.

Shamans have long been the spiritual leaders and souls of every orc clan, the shaman is the whip that drives them forward when they cower, and the shaman tightens the reins of their bridle when they are hot-headed. However, on that very day thirty years ago, the day that disgraced all orc clans, the day that all orcs should remember for a lifetime, the Blackstone clan drank the demon's blood for the second time, and it was on that day that the shamans of the Blackstone clan were tempted by the demons to throw themselves into the darkness, abandon the noble shamanic tradition and learn the chaotic and evil spells of the warlocks. It was also on that day that the Blackstone Clan's pillar of faith completely collapsed. They become twisted and evil, no longer believe in glory, "Lok-Tarogar!" "This orc oath that has been passed down for thousands of years is no longer binding on them.

"What do you think?" Wendthor asked, looking at the valley to the west. He knew he had a heavy responsibility on him, but it didn't seem like the right thing for a true Union soldier to do while the invaders ignored him, and he threw the question to the two young men. Because he knew that he couldn't do anything without their support.

"Let's fight, they provoked us first!" Masrae raised a long green eyebrow and said angrily. Although he didn't want to make a fuss, since these blackstone orcs dared to pluck the feathers on the top of the tiger's head, he didn't mind teaching them a profound lesson.

"Eradicate all evil." Diego agreed. He genuinely felt that the marshal's question this time was too timely. Originally, in his heart, he had always longed to go to the camp of the Ripper. For in his memory, the touching corporal was imprisoned in the cave behind the camp, but if he went to save people, he did not know how to tell Masrae and Wendthor that he was a prophet. In the past, Diego might have passed by pretending not to see it, but now, his thinking has changed radically, and he feels that this is his unshirkable responsibility, which no warrior with a modicum of honor can ignore.

Now that the marshal had simply brought a pillow when he was most sleepy, what else had to hesitate about?

……

Note: Lok-Tarogar! Orc: Die for victory! Or it can be extended as: Victory or death!

lok－tar！ It can also be used as a separate sentence, meaning "for victory".

I must make it clear that the new tribes in Orgrimmar have good trade relations with the goblins of Ratchet City, and have purchased muskets from there that are much better than the shabby Blackstone Orcs.