As Krkul cast a spell on the five frostwolf children, Durotan struggled to keep himself calm. As the bones stretched and the skin and muscles grew unnaturally, the children screamed and rolled on the ground in pain. The evil green thread connects the warlock and the children, as if it were from this green thread that sucks the children's lives. Judging by the look on Kkul's face, he seemed obsessed. As long as the children are suffering, Durotan will never be obsessed. For a while, Durotan feared that the Warlock would not stop when the children were twelve, but would continue to suck life from the children until they grew old and decayed.

Thankfully, Krkul stopped. The young orcs—no longer children—still lay in the place where they had been sucked their lives, unable to stand up for a long time. And when they stood up, they breathed with a soft sob, as if they had no strength for anything anymore.

Durotan turned to Kekur, "You've done your mission, now get out." ”

As if offended, Krkul looked very unhappy, "Patriarch Dulongtan, you"

Durotan grabbed the front of his blood-red robe, and a wave of fear flashed across Kkul's face.

"Get out of here!" Durotan gave Kekul a hard push, and Kekul staggered a few steps back, nearly falling, and he stared at Durontan viciously, "Blackhan will be upset to hear this," he shouted. Durotan was not afraid to speak out, but if anything else came out of his mouth, he knew that it would lead to the end of his clan. He didn't speak, he turned around, still trembling with anger, and walked towards the children who were no longer children.

For a while after that, no one asked the Frostwolf Clan to train intensively. I didn't bother with the training. Durotan felt both relieved and worried. He knows. Once Blackhan and Gul'dan remembered him. The task given to him will be extremely difficult.

He was right.

As the wolf rode into the frostwolf camp, Durotan was looking at a new piece of armor that the blacksmith had just wove upon. The wolf rider did not stop, and the cavalry threw Durotan a roll of parchment and turned his mount away. Durotan unfolded the parchment and looked at it, his eyes widened, and then he quickly looked up at the back of the wolf riding away—it was not an official messenger.

Old Friend -

I'm sure it's not news to you that you're being watched. They will give you a task, a task that they know you are capable of accomplishing. You've got to do it, and I don't know what they're going to do if you say no, I'm afraid it's going to be bad.

There is no payment. This letter is not needed either. Durotan recognized Orgrim's rugged handwriting. He crumpled the parchment and threw it into the fire, watching it curl and deform like a living creature under the bite of the flames.

Ogrim's warning was timely. In the same afternoon, a cavalryman dressed in an official messenger uniform came and handed the frostwolf patriarch a piece of parchment. Durotan took the parchment and set it aside, nodding, he didn't want to look at it right away.

But the messenger looked a little uneasy. She didn't get off her mount, she didn't turn her mount around.

"I'm going to bring it back and reply," she said after an awkward pause.

Durotan nodded, and opened the parchment. The handwriting was exquisite, and Durotan knew that Blackham had his verbal orders recorded, as clever and cunning the chieftain was. But barely literate.

The situation was worse than Durotan had imagined, and he was careful to keep his face unchanged. Even though out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draka looking at him.

Greetings to Durontan, son of Garrard, chief of the Frostwolf Clan, and Grand Chief of the Horde, Blackhan.

You now have the chance to see the newly trained Warlocks put their skills to work in action. It's time to attack the enemy, and the Draenei city of Tymor is close to your territory. Now you are ordered to organize a team to attack. Orgrim told me that you two went to that city when you two were kids, and you know the secret of how the Draenei kept them from being seen. Orgrim also told me that you have a good memory, and you will remember how to make the city visible and let our warriors carry out the raid.

For the Horde!

The signature is a handprint made by Blackhan with his right hand, dipped in ink.

Durotan was furious, how could Orgrim reveal this information? Did he really follow Blackhan in the end, and tell the Grand Chief about it, and put Durontan in such a situation? But Durontan realized that the information Blackhan had mentioned—the visit they had made as children, the way the city had hidden, Durontan's extraordinary memories—could all be extracted from any conversation over the years, and Durontan's anger subsided a little at the thought of this. Blackham is so clever that he can easily extract the pieces of information and piece them together until he can use them. Durotan thought about lying, saying that he couldn't remember the one that was used to keep the city safe and make the ogre... Now it's orcs... Unable to see the illusion of the city, what spell did Restaran use to remove it. It's been so long, and he's only heard it once, so he must have forgotten about it if he changed someone else. But the warning in the burned letter was so dim that it sounded like a joke. If Durotan agrees to assist in the attack, he can prove his loyalty to the Horde, to Blackhan, to Guldan, at least for now. And if he refuses, or if he claims that he can't remember those syllables that Blackhan wants... Well, like Orgrim, Durotan fears that the outcome will be bad.

The messenger is still waiting.

Durotan had no choice. He looked at the messenger blankly, "Of course, I will do what the chief asks." For the Horde!"

The messenger looked relieved and a little surprised. "The chief would be glad to know it. My order also includes giving you this. She took a small package from her purse and handed it to Durotan. "Your warriors and warlocks will use this. “

Durotan nodded. He knew what it was: the heart of wrath and the sun of sparkle that he had commanded from Verona. That time, when he angered Naozu, it was probably because these two gems saved his life. Now, he's going to use them again against their original owners.

"The chief will contact you again soon," the messenger said, bowing his head slightly, then turning his mount. Durotan watched her leave, and Draka walked gently up to him. He handed her the letter and walked into the tent.

After a while she came in too. He buried his face in his arms. Grieved for the terrible decision he had to make. She hugged him from behind.

A few days later, the battle party assembled in front of the frostwolf camp. Most of the members are warriors and warlocks of the Blackstone clan. There were also Warsong orcs with their faces painted on their faces in the crowd. and a couple of Broken Hand Orcs. The most insensitive, frostwolf orcs, could feel the disdain and contempt of those who came. Durotan is not surprised that most of the members come from the most militarized clans, who have come to oversee the frostwolf orcs in case they back down at the most critical moment. Durotan was a little curious as to which of them had received the order to slit his throat at the slightest hesitation. He hoped it wasn't Orgrim, the two old friends had just spoken a few words, and Durotan could see sadness in Orgrim's expression, at least, he was relieved by it.

There had been messengers who had come to inform them to prepare a large number of campfires and food, and many frostwolf orcs had given up their tents. In this way, those orcs who go to battle the next day can rest as much as possible. Durotan went to Orgrim and the others who would command the raid, and did what he and Orgrim could recall and sketch out the structure of the city.

By daybreak the next day, the battle squads—small orc armies—were already on the march. They walked through the grass on the edge of the Teroka Forest, the grass that had long since raced between Orgrim and Durontan, and had been frightened by the sudden appearance of ogres.

This morning, there were no hulking giants to disturb this tide of orcs heading for their destination. Durotan was at the front of the group, riding the Night Stalker alongside Orgrim. They were silent, but Durotan noticed that Orgrim's grey eyes were fixed on the place where the two children had been rescued by the Draenei.

"It's been a long time since we last passed here," Durotan said.

Orgrim nodded, "I'm not even sure if we're heading in the right direction, the forests and meadows have grown a lot and changed a lot. It turns out that there are still some landmarks. ”

Durotan said heavily, "I know the way. "He hoped he didn't remember. A pile of stones and a bare surface here were enough to guide him, though others didn't seem to be special. Blackhan had told his troops that the Draenei were capable of camouflaging their city. Despite this, Durotan's keen hearing heard whispers around him, and he frowned.

"We're getting closer," he said, "quieter." It is likely that we have already been discovered. ”

The team fell silent again. Orgrim gestured to several cavalry to scout the area. Durotan thought back to that evening, and he was also wondering where they were going, and what the Draenei would do to him.

He grabbed his mount and dismounted from the wolf. The Night Stalker shook his head and scratched his ears absentmindedly. Over here... Or near here... Durotan was eager for the Draenei to remember that they had shown him the secret, thus changing the location of the magic gem.

The green crystal that held the secret was not marked with a stone, and Durotan could not find it based on the marking. He concentrated, pacing slowly, listening to the slight sounds of the weapons and armor on the others. He closed his eyes, and the image of Restaran kneeling on the ground, brushing away fallen leaves and pine needles—

Durotan opened his eyes and moved a few steps to the left. He quickly prayed to the Ancestral Spirit, not sure if he could find the gem or not. Chainmail swept away the weathered debris on the surface and touched something cold and hard.

There's no going back now. Durotan picked up the green crystal.

Even in his anxious state of mind, he still felt the calming energy emanating from the crystal. It lay quietly in the palm of his hand, as if it belonged there. Durotan swiped his left index finger across the crystal, remembering the moment before it was irretrievable.

"You've found it," Orgrim whispered quietly, following his old friend. Durotan was so immersed in his own love that he was speechless for a moment, he only nodded, and withdrew his gaze from staring at this heart-warming stone, looking at the face of his old friend, who was also staring at the gem.

Orgrim nodded rudely, "Position," he said, "We're lucky that there wasn't an alarm." ”

Holding the gem was so calming that Durotan didn't want to do anything but simply stand and stare at it, but he knew he had already made his choice. He took a deep breath, then pronounced the syllables that Restaran had pronounced in this place a long time ago.

He wished his thick orc accent wouldn't activate the gem. So that he fulfills his obligations without having to invade a city full of civilians at the cost. However, apparently the string of syllables was still understood by the mysterious power of the accusatory zhì green crystal. The illusion dissipated, the trees and the glimmering gravel became nothing, and a wide stone path appeared in front of the orc team, stretching as if inviting them in.

It didn't need to be driven, the glorious city of the Draenei was in front of you, and with countless cries, the orcs raided it. (To be continued......)