Looking at the scouts who had disappeared into the night, I glanced back at the group of people next to the campfire. Although they were not happy to talk and laugh, it was obvious that they were still relatively relaxed.

It's not that I have to be angry or anything to see them so relaxed, it's definitely a little unaccustomed to seeing them, but it's not to the point of getting angry, at this point I have only one thought in my mind, a plan that I think is necessary.

This is no longer the Tirisfa region, the withered grass and shrubs and withered trees all speak to the seriousness of the problem, and the beasts here are wilder than ever, especially the predators, who will attack as soon as they see any moving creatures, but fortunately there are not many of them.

There are no wandering undead Scourge soldiers in the wild, and these things are extremely organized and obedient, and there is almost no single or lost existence, which makes the arrogant orcs a little itchy.

The area illuminated by the campfire was very limited, and these guys did not feel the slightest sense of fear and crisis under the more darkness. They gathered around to talk more about how valiantly they fought the last time the Burning Legion invaded, and how they fought so hard against centaurs and boarmen. I wasn't interested in their history at all, I wasn't at all interested in their bravery, I was more interested in adding fuel to the story to make it look more exciting, and watching them talk about it I felt like I saw corpses one after another.

A thought popped into my head, what would these guys be like if we were to be resurrected? When I saw the original Death Knights in Tarummere, which were created by orcs using magic, I felt that they were indeed terrifying, but it is unknown whether this thing still has many shortcomings. All resurrected Forsaken are now bound to obey Sylvanas's orders, and my case is a special exception.

In fact, my existence does not do much good to the rule of Sylvanas, fortunately, my kind of creation is created by the Lich King and is scarce, but the resurrected are all humans and high elves, and the willpower of such creatures I feel is actually not so tenacious compared to orcs, and the thoughts of these two intelligent creatures seem to me to be much more complex than those of orcs and minotaurs. The more intelligent a creature is, the more complex his thoughts, and perhaps the simpler he is to control.

You heard it right, it's that the more people think about it, the weaker their willpower tends to be. The more pure the thought, whether it is cohesion, unity or willpower, it will become much stronger because there are not so many flowery intestines. That's why I believe more in the endurance and willpower of orcs. I also feel that even if the orcs are resurrected, it will probably be a big trouble.

These orcs may not necessarily become undead with free will if they retain their primitive instincts and core thoughts, but Sylvanas probably can't control them.

And for now, if one of them had died in the follow-up, they might not have agreed to the resurrection of them.

The light of the flames jumped across their faces, and the red glow illuminated the green-brown skin so that it was no longer a color. I'm just inferring that they may not be able to accept this kind of thing, maybe you will feel that it is not necessarily, this kind of thing is not certain, they orcs pay attention to buddy righteousness, brotherhood and brotherhood, even if they die, they probably can't wait to bring them back to life.

Looking at their really hideous faces, I don't feel that there is a thing called custom, and there is a fear of death. Even trolls who are accustomed to cutting off people's heads at will will not be extremely calm about death, and will not accept death without care or even joy, let alone other races?

Orcs are very heroic, or reckless, but in the face of death, I only recognize the performance of certain people who sacrifice their lives because of their hearts full of faith, and the courage of those people is beyond death itself, not a passive courage that is driven by the atmosphere or coerced by the crowd. That kind of person has only one title, and that is hero.

But I don't think these braggarts are heroes, and even if they were brave, I don't think they'd be decisive in the face of their comrades' deaths.

If you say that a loved one has passed away, are you willing to bring back to life a loved one who is already lying in the morgue?

If this example is not representative because of the environment and people, when people who had already died on the battlefield now get up and stand in front of you, don't you feel strange if you are afraid? Or...... First surprised, then frightened?

On the other hand, when it comes to respect for death and corpses, all races have their own customs, and they generally do not allow others to manipulate corpses at will. This reason is also very simple, that is, no one wants their corpse to be fiddled with after they die, but more want to be buried in peace and respect, dust to dust, and soil to peace.

Another point is that as orcs who are known for their obedience, unless the person who allowed them to wake up was their great chief or elder, no one should be willing to bear the responsibility for desecrating the corpse of their companion. Even trolls don't cut off the heads of their relatives and friends as decorations, they cut off the heads of their enemies. So I stared at them for a long time, and I felt that this matter was unreliable.

Bypassing the undead farm towns, my plan was to take them around Andorhar to see what was going on there, and then to Hillsbrad after passing through Alterac to investigate. Sarufar accepted my suggestion, saying that he also wanted to go back to the mountains where they had been hiding.

I can't remember how many times I've been to Andohar, and when I was standing outside the city, the advice I gave them was to get close, but never go into the city, or to catch some wandering undead to play, but if they found out that they had caused a large-scale conflict, they might join them. The disdainful expression on the orc's face was destined to have an accident before they could give up, and I understood why they were like this, and I was mentally prepared before I came, but it was not the best time to do something now.

Sarufar led the men into the deep grass towards the city of Andorhar, and as an escort I was of course obliged to follow them around, but I chose to leave my soldiers on standby and I did not follow. Regardless of the outcome, I think it would be better for them to experience it for themselves, even if they later complain that we have not fulfilled our obligation to protect.

And these guys are much smarter than I thought, they should have listened to me, and came back not long after they went, and when they came back, they were still tied to two undead natural disasters, but the arms of these two things have disappeared, and the mutilated shoulders and broken arms indicate that they are not naturally broken, and their jaws have also magically disappeared, leaving only the upper part and a few teeth that have been mutilated.

Without a mouth, there is no ability to bite, and without an arm, there is no ability to tear, and such an undead is no more threatening than a mouse except for a somewhat scary appearance.

When they brought the two things back, everyone looked sideways, and the orc who was holding them had a playful look on their face, and Sarufar only frowned when he saw them when he returned from elsewhere, and then stepped forward and grabbed the half of his head to examine it carefully.

"How did you catch it?" He twisted the head hard, and the undead wanted to struggle, but it didn't feel like a chick in his hand at this point.

"That's it." The green-skinned orc said.

Sarufar snorted, and instead of looking back at me, he ordered to mount his horse and move on. I glanced at one of the scouts beside me, his face was covered, revealing only two eyes that had lost their luster and were slightly cloudy, and he nodded lightly when he saw me.

The team set off, making rapid progress in the direction of Icewind Hills to the south, where Sarufar wanted to see what was going on with the human army there. I didn't tell him that curiosity is okay, but I can't guarantee what his curiosity will lead to in the end.

I also knew that I was playing with fire, and that I remembered better than anyone else that the one who played with fire would burn himself, but at this time I didn't care when it would come true, and in my heart this mighty king might not be a bad thing even if he really died.

That morning Sarufar asked me where I was for the last time, and then he didn't ask me again, and in the evening they lit a bonfire again, and when I saw this, I told my soldiers to disperse around the camp in groups of three, no longer at random. Of course, I didn't tell anyone about it.

The vicinity of Icewind Ridge was not as withered as Andohar, but the forest here was still dead, and the occasional owl call made the night even more terrifying.

The moon was only half above me today, and I was squatting on a big tree, and there were two people squatting under the tree, because it was far enough away from the campfire camp, and the light from there had barely any illuminating effect here, and I could still see the light of the campfire not far away from the tree, and the light I could see when I was under the tree just now was pitiful.

There was a slight error in my judgment, the place where I was crouching was not the place where the enemy had to go, and I did not immediately give the order for support when I saw commotion and shouts in the camp far from our side. Instead, he stood up with his crouched body on the tree, and there was a fight in the camp!

It's just that the screams that came from them weren't made by the orcs.