Extinguishing the firewood pile in front of him, Lin Yue leaned quietly against the rock wall. This cave has been his residence for the last few days, and it is very secluded, and although orc squads often pass by, it has never been discovered.

After coming to Draenor for so long, Lin Yue's own strength has been growing rapidly, and he is already approaching the ninth-level totem general. But he never intervened in the dispute between the draenei and the orcs, and only as a spectator, he learned about this qiē.

Because he knew that if he really intervened in this matter, it was very likely to change the course of history.

With a sigh, Lin Yue finished today's cultivation and lay down in the corner and fell asleep deeply.

Durotan raised his head and sniffed the wind. Filling his nose was a smell of dust and dryness, with a little rancidity, a pungent smell. Not something that smells burning, not exactly, but kind of. Once upon a time, Draketal was better at capturing the message in the scent than he was. But that was in the past, he was no longer a shaman, but a warlock. The air no longer responded to him with a message as clear as it had been written on parchment. To make matters worse, Drektar, and the other Warlocks of Frostwolf, don't seem to care much about it.

It hadn't rained for quite some time, and the summer seemed hotter than usual. This is the second summer when it hasn't rained much, if it has rained at all. Durotan suddenly remembered something, knelt down and stuck his finger in the dirt. Once upon a time, it was a fertile soil, dark brown in color, exuding an air of abundance. And now, his fingers were lightly inserted into the dust, and the dry dirt crumbled under his fingers and turned into sand. Neither grass nor crops can grow on it. Nothing can be. The sand flowed like water between his fingers.

He sensed Drakar approaching. But he didn't turn around. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind him, clinging to him. They stood like that, and after a long time, she hugged him hard and let go of her hand and walked up to him. Durotan shook the dust off his hands.

"We've never relied much on what we've grown anyway," he said calmly.

Drakar looked at him with her dark, understanding eyes. He wanted to face her, and she was better than him in many ways. But she was the chief's companion, not the chief, and she didn't have to make the decisions he had to make.

All he can do.

"We basically live off hunting," Draka said. "And the animals we hunt depend on the plants of the land to live. We are connected to everything, and shamans know that. ”

A young warlock ran by, she stopped talking, and a small creature bouncing followed. As they passed, the little thing turned to look at Drakar and smiled, baring a mouth full of fangs. Drakar shuddered.

Durotan sighed and handed her a scroll. "I just received this. We're going to go far. It's time to leave our homes. ”

"What?"

"Blackhan's order. He moved to the new fortress that had been built for him, and he wanted his troops to go there as well. It's no longer possible to converge and then attack together. Blackham wants us to live together, ready to follow his lead. ”

Draka stared at him quizzically, then moved his gaze to the scroll. She read it quickly, then rolled it up and handed it to him.

"We'd better prepare," she said calmly, then turned and strode back to their tent. He watched her leave, feeling that something in front of him broke his heart.

The fortress was not finished, but when Durotan first saw it, he froze. There were constant voices of exclamation next to him.

"How powerful!"

"How magnificent!"

"Worthy of the Great Chief!"

If Durotan were to say anything, he would say: This is a blasphemy against the sacred, a stain on the earth, not at all in harmony with our being.

The migration party of the Frostwolf Clan was still far from the fortress, but the fortress fell on the horizon like a vulture. There is nothing about it in design that can be described as an orc building. This structure, this nightmare that was built, this shock to the eyes and soul is even stronger than the buildings of the Delaney. Of course, Durotan knew the purpose of this structure, it had to be large enough for the elite orc warriors to live in for a long time, but it wasn't what he had hoped to see.

Unlike the Draenei architecture, with its soft and shiny lines, the fortress appears rugged and angular. Not only is it extremely incongruous with the landscape, but it also looks very abrupt. It is made of black stones, jagged wood and metal, and stands tall to cut through the sky. Durotan knew that from such a distance, he could only see the main body of the fortress, but that was enough. He stood there, as if his feet had taken root, and with great reluctance he moved step by step towards the monstrous behemoth.

He and Draka exchanged glances in silence. Are they the only ones who stop when they see it? The other frostwolf orcs continued on, passing past their chieftain. Durotan finally reluctantly held his mount and continued forward.

The proximity to this fortress does not make it any more striking than before. Now Durotan saw other outbuildings—barracks, warehouses, and flat training grounds—stacked with large weapons he'd never seen before. They look just as bleak, dangerous, and just as deadly as a fortress.

The spirited members of the Blackstone Clan and the others casually greeted Durontan, then led the Frostwolf Clan to a flat ground to the west of the complex and began setting up their tents. It was almost dark that Durotan and the members of his clan were called to the grounds in the fortress to report it. A squad of about twenty people walked over and waited there.

He first heard the sound of drums in the distance. Durotan tensed his nerves. They were explicitly told not to bring weapons, just come and wait... And no one told them what they were waiting for. Draka looked at him uneasily. He couldn't assure her of anything, and like her, he seemed to be waiting in the dark for a revelation.

The drums are closer. The ground began to tremble beneath Durotan's feet. It wasn't strange if the drum was beating nearby, but at such a distance? he heard the others whispering with concern, knowing that he wasn't the only one worried.

The earth is still shaking, more and more violently. Two wolf riders from the Blackstone Clan arrived, looking excited. "Don't be afraid, that's a distinguished member of the tribe!" One of them shouted. "Our new ally, the mighty Blackhan, has joined our ranks, and here they are!

This feeling of earth shaking is somewhat familiar. Durotan's memory of this feeling is linked to the battle, and the opponent is-

"Ogre!" Someone screamed. Indeed, now Durotan could see them, dozens, huge and steadfast, striding towards the assembled orcs. More of the Blackstone Clan's wolves rode back and forth, shouting and blowing their horns mightily. The crowd became excited and frantic, shouting wildly, jumping and cheering.

Are these new allies? Durotan couldn't believe it. Just as he was stunned, the largest ogre he had ever seen appeared. Blackhan himself strode beside the behemoth, swaggering, as if he didn't look like a child's toy next to the huge thing.

"We're going to ruin Miè Draenei!" Blackham shouted, and the group of traveling ogres seemed to be waiting for this code, and then they all shouted, "Destroy miè!

For a brief moment, Durotan seemed to be a child again, fleeing in front of such a monster. He blinked, and his father's feeble body appeared in front of him, blood flowing into the earth with life little by little, and Garrard's skull was smashed by the ogre's bat like a fruit.

The orcs and this group of mentally retarded monsters stand together, intent on destroying a wise, peaceful race.

The world has descended into madness. (To be continued......)