As midnight approached, Nikezulu had already frozen his mouth shut, and he hadn't slept – even an orc who hadn't slept for days could have fallen asleep in the cold of a winter night – let alone the so-called "thunderous" snoring. Hamulo also huddled under the battlements and shivered, and after the sword-like cold air had scratched his cheeks, he hadn't tried to look out of the city for a while. The old orc had doubted that one of his lives would be ruined by this long wait and pointless insistence, but fortunately, the dutiful sentry ran out of the tower before the temperature dropped to the lowest point, and conveyed to him the news that an unknown team had been found in the distance.

Before Nikezulu could finish listening to the guards' report, he picked up his tomahawk and was about to gather the army, but was stopped by the old orc.

"It's Logosh. Hamulo said in a deep voice.

Nikezulu politely put away his weapon, but the expression on his face was full of doubt, "Great Chief, do you really believe that pure-blooded orcs will travel overnight in the winter of freezing to death?"

Hamulo shook his head silently, he knew that the orcs were powerless to fight the cold winter, and Logosh, as a well-known leader from far and near, would never joke with the lives of his people. But in Hamulau's mind, the only student with high hopes was never a good boy who followed the rules - he was still curious about science when he was studying shamanism at Occam, and often slipped into Hamulo's alchemy laboratory to tinker with strange knick-knacks, and accidentally broke the teacher's cherished snake neck bottle.

"But you're still waiting here, like a stubborn cow. If you don't freeze yourself, you won't go back. Nike Zulu said unconvinced.

"Am I supposed to call you 'a stubborn cow who knows it's impossible but is tireless......?' Or 'stupid cow' would be more appropriate. ”

The two green-skinned guys looked at each other and smiled, not continuing the conversation. They followed the guards into the tower, quietly waiting for the "unknown team" to come closer, close enough for them to see who was coming.

As the gates of Occam were opened, the soldiers at the gates had to push the heavy planks apart, and the cold wind forced them to hide behind the gates. Nikezulu followed Hamulo with a troop of sand lizard cavalry to meet the Shatterblade Clan as they entered the city.

"Great Chief, come and help me find the Great Chief! This kid is going to die!" a young Bladebreaker orc ran through the gates with a baby in his arms. Before Hamulo could search the crowd for the shadow of Logosh, he was attracted by the reckless young man.

"Nike Zulu, take them to my house! There were emergency herbs on the small round table next to the bed, mashed and fed to the child, and I arrived later. The Great Chief commanded, and Nikezulu pulled the young orc, who was about to burst into tears, onto the sand lizard, left the cavalry and hurried away. Hamulo staggered over, not bothering to say hello to a few familiar faces in the Shatterblade Clan.

The poor baby was sick with a strange disease, his breath was insignificant, and his skin, which should have been pale green, showed terrible dark purple scars, and the area was exaggeratedly large. Such terrible symptoms were unheard of and unseen, and even Hamulo, who was proficient in herbs and medicine, could not say why, so he had to feed the child a life-threatening soup mixed with some plants that no one else could name, and first stabilize the poor child's condition and then find a way.