Arthas accepted the challenges from the defiant members of the Burning Blade Clan, dueling them in the orcish way and knocking them down one by one. No weapons were used, just bare-fisted duels, though blocking was still allowed. Whenever an orc challenger roared and threw an eight-hundred-pound left hook, the rebounding force would often send them reeling back, vomiting blood.
True defense meant having both damage reduction and healing abilities. This was how one could be unkillable while still dishing out damage, purely to frustrate the opponent. The stronger the opponent, the greater the rebound force; the weaker the opponent, the smaller the rebound force.
While Arthas was conquering the Burning Blade Clan, the Horde was also facing internal strife.
The surrender of the Burning Blade and Shattered Hand Clans filled Orgrim with endless humiliation. He had never hated a person so much. "Arthas! I will tear you to pieces!"
Zul'jin listened to Orgrim's entire plan with a blank expression, his originally amicable face changing. "If you want to retreat, you can retreat on your own. The Forest Trolls will not back down. Either all those long-ears die, or our entire army is wiped out. Trolls are never afraid, have never been afraid!"
"This isn't a matter of fear. We've already achieved our strategic objective. Now the enemy has their backs to the Sunwell. We cannot conquer Silvermoon City. A strategic retreat can lure them out, and then we can kill them!" Orgrim tried to explain, doing his best to secure the trolls' help.
After all, having the trolls, who were natives to this land, was a great advantage. It made everything from supplies to navigation much more convenient. It would be a real shame to lose them.
"No. If you want to retreat, you retreat. The Amani Trolls never retreat! The chance to drive out the long-ears is right before our eyes. Do you know how many years we've waited? Thousands of years! We've waited for so long, and the opportunity is right here. You can retreat. I will lead the Amani Trolls to fight to the last moment!" Zul'jin refused the order to withdraw.
He was merely cooperating with the Horde. He had no interest in killing humans, and his conflict with them was not as great as his conflict with the High Elves. The High Elves had built Quel'Thalas on the ancestral graves of the Forest Trolls. Who could tolerate someone dancing on their ancestors' graves?
Zul'jin's attitude was exactly what Orgrim wanted. He could see that the other's hatred for the High Elves had surpassed reason. An opportunity to annihilate his hated enemy was indeed right in front of him. Any troll with blood in their veins would not pass up such a chance.
Unfortunately, splitting their forces meant someone had to be sacrificed. And the Forest Trolls were the perfect sacrifice. Coupled with their fanatical hatred for the High Elves, there was no worry that they would hold back.
"Alright, I agree. Be careful. Once I crush the Alliance and the Horde can take root in this land, we will join forces again to deal with the High Elves."
Orgrim's words were pleasant on the surface, but his calculations behind the scenes were a completely different matter.
In fact, Zul'jin could guess some of it. He was no simple brute if he could lead the Forest Trolls. Even if he saw through the Horde's intentions, he was willing to do it—for no other reason than their ancient feud.
After sending Zul'jin off, Orgrim angrily smashed the floor, his already ferocious face becoming even more terrifying.
The traitorous clans absolutely could not be tolerated! Before launching a surprise attack on Lordaeron, he had to eliminate these two clans, or the Warchief would become a laughingstock.
"Gul'dan, I order you to take the Stormreaver Clan and the Twilight's Hammer to annihilate the Burning Blade and Shattered Hand Clans!"
"As you command, Warchief." Gul'dan was ecstatic. He couldn't have wished for a better opportunity to escape. As for dealing with traitors? He wasn't a true orc. What did honor have to do with him? It couldn't be used to wipe his ass.
"If you haven't eliminated the traitors within three days, I will personally send you to meet your ancestors!" Orgrim never hid his disgust for Gul'dan.
Right now, he had to strike Lordaeron as quickly as possible and destroy the heart of the Alliance in one fell swoop. Once Lordaeron was destroyed, the Alliance would collapse on its own, and this long war would finally end.
"I believe the Warchief won't have that chance. I will go make the arrangements." Gul'dan took his leave with a deadpan expression.
He finally had a chance to escape; he could barely stop himself from jumping for joy.
The next day, the Horde continued its massive offensive, while Gul'dan ordered his clans to hunt down and kill the Burning Blade and Shattered Hand Clans. They specifically targeted these traitors, willing to let the elves go just to kill them.
This was all a show for Orgrim, to make him believe that he was carrying out his orders.
By the third day, Orgrim began to lead the Horde orcs in a retreat. Attacking Lordaeron by sea was the fastest way, but the Horde lacked ships and was not skilled in naval warfare.
Advancing along the roads was also the fastest way to reach Lordaeron, but Alliance forces guarded the paths. If they were discovered, all their efforts could be for naught. A surprise attack had to be stealthy and undetected, which meant they could only attack from the most unexpected place.
The Alliance had heavily fortified important areas: Stratholme, Andorhal, and the Eastern and Western Plaguelands. Since the invasion of the northern kingdoms, the war had repeatedly defied Orgrim's expectations. Almost every time, his plans were foiled by Arthas or those Paladins.
Now, the mere sight of a Paladin made him want to grab his hammer and smash their skulls in! But the battle could still be fought. War was about adaptability. The ability to adapt was the art of war; otherwise, they were just brainless orcs! Those who clung to convention and didn't know how to change were destined for a crushing defeat!
On the other side, Arthas was still fighting hard against the enemy while having his fleet prepare to board at a moment's notice and head for Lordaeron. Orgrim's departure was not unexpected. He knew very well that the orcs couldn't fight a protracted war.
Once encircled, they would face certain death with no place to be buried. Without logistical support, no reinforcements for their troops, and no way to treat the wounded, these were all difficult problems. Sustaining a war by plunder was not as simple as it sounded. If they ignored their wounded, it could lead to a collapse in morale.
Now, Arthas just needed an excuse—an excuse to leave.
That night, Arthas continued to thrust into Azuka. The female orc he had just conquered was a pleasure to play with. A brand-new race, her vaginal walls were incredibly thick, wrapping around him so tightly there were no gaps, and the intense pressure felt perfect and satisfying to fuck.