The snowflakes of late winter crushed the branches, and at the foot of the mountains, it was a green scene. It wasn't green grain, it was a large field of green-skinned orcs and goblins. After a long winter finally over, and after slaughtering an entire nezumi clan, Grimug Ironhide decided to head back north to conquer the humans he hadn't conquered last year, while continuing to find a worthy challenge.

In accordance with the rules of the tribe, he held sacrifices and divination ceremonies in advance. Eight "respectable" prophetic shamans gathered in front of a "temple" and chanted in ancient and mystical language.

This is a mysterious word that almost everyone does not understand, and the reason why it is mysterious is actually because most greenskins do not understand it...... It's simple and crude, and because you don't understand it, it's mysterious......

The temple is actually a small hill made of skulls and stones, which are the heads of various creatures that they have cut off in the war, and for the greenskins, only such a gorgeous pile of corpses can show their reverence for the second brother of Mao, which is their sacrifice.

Underneath the temple was a wooden chopping board for living sacrifices.

Shamans gather around the altar, dancing with their hands, sometimes singing, sometimes whispering. Some mysterious smoke rose from the fire, and the green-skinned orcs around them opened their eyes wide and showed an incredible expression. For the greenskins, this is a miracle.

And the absolute leader of the entire army, Grimug Ironskin, was on the sidelines, sullen. He watched the ritual with cold eyes, snowflakes lapping on his armor and falling between his lips and nose, melted by the heat exhaled. Compared to the green-skinned orcs who watched the ritual with relish, Grimg Ironhide was more bored and impatient.

He kicked the stone on the ground in frustration, and every time the shaman chanted, he kicked the big stone hard, using it as an object of anger. Grimg Ironhide roared, for him the ritual was boring and boring, and he would rather go to the cave and kill a few more rats to relieve his boredom than listen to these useless shamans sing and dance here.

However, the ritual had to go on because the orcs believed in it......

The shamans in front of the temple worked together, and two large green-skinned shamans took a living mouse, or rat leader, to be exact. They tied the fat nezumi to the altar. The fire burned blazing beside it, and the heat rushed in such a way that the dying nezumi could barely breathe.

After tying it to the altar, the oldest of the shamans, the most highly qualified, Green Prophet, stepped forward, holding in his hand a willow staff with a strange stone tied to the top, reflecting a strange glimmer in the bleak white sunlight.

The old shaman walked up to the nezumi, took the knife from the other green-skinned shaman, and then slashed at the nezumi near his stomach, and the greasy blood flowed out of the fat nezumi's body, staining the altar beneath him little by little.

The shamans began to chant wildly and dance around the nezumi.

It can be seen that even the leader felt trembling in such a terrifying and strange atmosphere. The nezumi on the altar trembled, his blood dripping down the altar little by little, and the sacrifice was far from over. The old shaman then slashed it a second time, which slashed through the nezumien's left shoulder and through his chest. The helpless nezumi screamed, but its shrill cry was a sign of weakness in the eyes of the green-skinned orcs. Jiangsu Literature Network

Warriors never scream and cry.

Grimg Ironhide watched from the sidelines, and although the whole ritual was very short, it didn't last more than an hour, but it was already a torment for Ironskin. He gasped and left the scene angrily, knocking away the pile of orc boys behind him. Seeing a group of little goblins singing and dancing around the campfire, celebrating their victory, he walked straight over, grabbed one of the goblin boys, and threw him at a stake on the ground. Blood splattered on his hand. But the leader of the orcs was not satisfied, and he divided it by two, and he grabbed one of the fleeing goblins and pressed it into the fire to roast it...... The screams soon died down.

If it weren't for the sacrosanctity of the ritual, Grimug Ironhide wouldn't even want to stay there for a second. It's torture, listening to those shamans chattering and nagging. Along the way, I've heard enough of the little goblin grinding and chattering, and now I have to listen to the old shaman's chatter......

On the other side, after killing the leader of the rat people, the sacrificial ceremony began to climax, and the green-skinned shamans gathered around the corpse, singing and dancing, as if they were sacrificing the fat rat to Brother Mao.

Soon, the other orcs present were also encouraged, and they joined in the frenzied sacrifice ritual, shouting loudly and dancing with their hands and feet.

Roar......

Grimg Ironskin let out a low roar in his heart, he had seen enough of such a meaningless performance. It's better to kill a few more rats or kill a few more shrimps.

Finally, the sacrificial rites of the tribe ended. The sacrificial nezumi was bleeding from the roar of the greenskins. Temporarily, his eyes were still wide open in horror.

And when it was finally time for Grimg to vent, he wrung up an orc boy from outside, punched him in the face, and smashed another punch into his abdomen, the orc boy let out a howl of pain, and Grimg Ironhide let out a hearty roar, and the two punches were just appetizers, and he grabbed the orc, and like a chicken, he danced wildly in the air, and he fell to the ground and smashed on the stake, until the hapless orc boy was smashed beyond recognition, and the flesh was blurred.

Grimg Ironhide gasped, which seemed to calm his bloodthirsty desires a little. Given the surprised glances of the greenskins around him, Grimg Ironhide walked out of the camp alone...... He never worried about having followers, or rather, he didn't care if there were orcs or goblins willing to follow him. All Grimgg was looking for was endless battles......

......

In the spring, everything recovers, and the snow on the school grounds is swept away and gradually melts.

At the same time, a new round of training began. Since there weren't so many jobs for the refugees from Fort Watch, Rhodes gathered the remaining refugees and went to the old school grounds to start a new round of training. These civilians had fought in the brutal battles of the Watchfort, had taken up arms and fought hard, and now, the war was not far away. Rhodes prepared for the worst, and one day Grimug Ironhide might return with his army, gathering them together and training them into a militia in case of emergency, before they could find a better place to go.

The entire Black Hammer Fort has experienced four years of calm, so once again it is filled with a strong war mood.