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"I understand. You should go back and rest."

"Yes!"

The orc bowed with his hand on his chest and left, while Thrall looked at Jaina.

"We must hurry, Jaina, before something irreversible happens."

Stoneclaw Mountains — Stoneclaw Mountains

At the entrance of a secluded cave, an orc dressed in ordinary clothes and carrying a crude wood-chopping axe leisurely walked into the cave and looked into its depths, where a green flame was burning.

"Anaseron, is it done?"

A deep, rumbling sound came from the direction of the green flames.

"Grom is already heading our way, and Mannoroth, Thrall is in hot pursuit with a force."

“You have done a good job with your mission, Anatheon. Now, I’m giving you another task: to build a hidden portal across worlds. We need to welcome Lord Archimonde.”

"Yes."

The orc known as Anatheron grinned darkly and turned to leave, while the owner of the green flames slowly walked out of the Land of No Light after Anatheron disappeared.

Its enormous body, long tail like a dragon's tail, huge and sharp spear in its hand, bat wings spread out on its back, threatening any enemy that might stand in its way, and its face is like a demon that has walked out of the deepest hell, with stars in its mouth that never go out, and from time to time, flames bursting out from it.

"Come, Grom... accept my gift... embrace your destiny... your true destiny... you will become my strongest warrior, an invincible warrior..."

Manolos the Destroyer lifted his legs and slowly walked out of the cave. Behind him, the entire cave had already been reduced to ashes in the flames.

46. ​​'Human beings'? 'Human beings'!

———————————————Several days later————————————————————

"call."

On the rugged mountain path, Grom pulled his war wolf back, sniffing the air carefully. Beneath him, his dire wolf pawed restlessly at the ground, growling in a low voice.

"I smell...human scent..."

Grom narrowed his eyes slightly. Among the distant mountains, the outlines of some human buildings came into view, and further away, smoke rose slowly into the sky.

"Chief Grom, I think we should find the enemy that Chief Thrall asked us to find."

Grom's adjutant spoke in a low voice.

“You’re right, my adjutant. These humans will undoubtedly become a threat to the tribe in the future, and we cannot allow them to set up camp here.”

Grom lifted the Gorehowl he was carrying on his back and pointed it forward.

"Warsong Clan warriors! Hear my command! For the Horde! Slaughter them all!!!"

—————————————Barren Land——————————————————————

Sal sat cross-legged under a tree, looking worried. At his feet lay a lion whose head he had cracked open because it didn't understand the situation.

Jaina, looking displeased, walked to the shade of a tree and sat down with Thrall.

"Jaina, is there bad news?"

Thrall, whose mood was already sour as the straight-line distance between him and Grom was not getting closer but was actually gradually increasing, looked at Jaina, whose face clearly showed that something was wrong.

"The adjutant who stayed in Ratchet told me that about three hundred of the refugees I brought disappeared without a trace not long ago."

"Three hundred people? Whether they left, were kidnapped, or were killed, it's impossible for such a number to leave no trace, unless someone used magic to move them."

Sal frowned slightly. This unusual phenomenon happened just as Grom was lured away by the demon, which made it hard for him not to make terrible connections.

“To teleport more than three hundred people silently overnight—even my late teacher, Archmage Antonidas, couldn’t do that. But they might.”

"They want us to forge new blood feuds; they want us to abandon our alliance."

Thrall stroked his warhammer as he stood up and looked into the distance. He sensed that in the hills in that direction, Grom had inevitably begun a war with humanity.

"We cannot let the demons succeed, Thrall."

Jaina stood up with a bitter expression. She knew that if the missing 300-plus people were indeed controlled by demons and thus went to war with Grom's Warsong Clan, then she would have to choose between reputation and justice—her race or the world.

“The devil succeeded once in my homeland, and this time, we cannot let them succeed a second time.”

------------------battlefield----------------------

"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!!!"

Grom's Bloodhowl whistled sharply, raising clouds of blood mist. Several humans had already died in gruesome ways before him, but more humans surged forward.

"Chief! Something's not right with these humans!"

Grom's lieutenant used his battle blade to deflect the swords swung at him by the two humans, and spoke loudly to his chieftain.

"They are just humans! My lieutenant!"

Although surprised by the humans' fearlessness, Grom had considerable confidence in himself and his elite personal guards. After letting out a low growl, Grom once again swung Bloodhowl.

"clang!!!"

A tremendous force froze Bloodhowl in mid-air. A human clad in full armor looked at Grom with a contemptuous gaze and an expression that was hard to decipher.

"Your opponent is me, you ignorant beast."

"Roar!"

Grom, realizing that the human in front of him was no ordinary person, quickly hooked and pulled, dragging Gorehowl back in front of him. Then, he lowered his left shoulder slightly, tilting his body at about thirty degrees. With a burst of strength from his right arm, he aimed at the weak point of the human's armor and slashed down. At this moment, because of Grom's axe-retracting movement, the human who had blocked his axe had not yet had time to regain his balance.

"Click!"

Bloodhowl, imbued with the power of a howling wind, slashed heavily into the gaps in the armor. However, Grom instantly sensed something amiss from the feedback from his hand: the axe hadn't made contact with flesh; instead, it was being blocked by something!

"Foolish! Don't you know the power of the Holy Light?"

As the human before him spoke those arrogant words, a faintly glowing power rapidly spread from his body. The human grew stronger in the wave of this spread, while Grom's elite troops—including himself—suffered burns of varying degrees.

"The power of the Holy Light? In Draenor, I don't know how many heads I've chopped off by those who wield the Holy Light!"

Grom, caught off guard by the counterattack, took a deep breath and swung Bloodhowl even harder. He could feel an invisible force blocking Bloodhowl, but so what? His Bloodhowl was indestructible!

"Whoosh!!!! Clang!!!"

Bloodhowl... was firmly held in the palm of the human's hand.

"Do you now understand your weakness before the Holy Light, barbarian?"

Before Grom could even understand what was happening, a tremendous force struck his abdomen, sending him flying a great distance before he tumbled and crawled to the entrance of the human camp.

"Chief!!"

Grom's lieutenant gritted his teeth and endured the pain, rushing to Grom's side to help him up. Grom looked at the human paladin who was still swaggering around with resentment, feeling a deep sense of powerlessness.

"Warsong Clan, retreat..."

————————————Human Camp——————————————————

"Lord Tichondrius, Grom has already retreated with his remaining soldiers."

The human 'paladin' entered his room, picked up a crystal ball, and a cruel smile appeared on his face.

"Well done, Baneholler. Mannoroth's blood has been added to the spring? And the 'actors' are all arranged?"

“It was all arranged long ago, but Grom’s power… is indeed astonishing… even within the barrier we prepared specifically for them, he was still able to harm me.”

Bainholler stretched out his right hand, which had a long scar on it.

“That’s why the Legion wants him, Banehollow. Before Lord Archimonde’s main force lands on this land, we need a strong and powerful assault force... to tear through the Night Elves’ defenses.”

Forty-seven. Demonic Blood

While the two dreadlords were happily arranging Grom's remaining life in their script, Grom was holding his Bloodhowl, staring blankly at the flowing stream in front of him.

This wasn't the first time he'd fought humans, and fighting those who wielded the Holy Light was commonplace for him. In every battle, the orcs might lose, but Grom would always win. But this time, he knew he had lost, and lost badly.

“We haven’t lost many men, but many have been wounded, Chief.”

Grom's lieutenant walked up to him, his tone somber. As a veteran orc who had followed Grom in many battles, this was the first time he had ever experienced such a frustrating fight.

"Those humans must have used some evil magic! The power of the Holy Light couldn't be that strong! Perhaps we should contact Warchief Thrall..."

An orc veteran who had fought his way from Draenor to Azeroth muttered to himself as he bandaged his wounds.

"No! Thrall entrusted us with this problem, so we should solve it ourselves. Soldiers with minor injuries, try to capture one or two humans. We need to know why the humans in this camp are so strange!"

"Yes, Chief!"

——————————————About an hour later——————————————

A human, badly beaten and covered in dust, was bound tightly and thrown in front of Grom by the two orcs like cargo.

"Spare me...spare me...spare me!!!"

Seeing the Bloodhowl beside his neck, the poor human could only cry out for mercy; he couldn't say anything else.

"Tell me the secret to how your soldiers were able to defeat us, human."

Grom, not wanting to waste words with the cowardly human in front of him, simply put the axe to his neck.

"I'm just a handyman... Spare me... Spare me..."

"Then you're useless."

Grom raised Gorehowl and slowly slashed it into the human's neck, the smell of blood gradually becoming clearer.

"I'll tell you! I'll tell you! I've heard rumors circulating in the camp!"

Sensing Grom's axe gradually penetrating deeper into his neck, the terrified human hurriedly spoke up.

"explain."

"...There's a spring on this mountain. Anyone who drinks from it becomes incredibly strong and tireless. Our soldiers have all drunk from it...I don't know if it's true...Please! Please spare me!"

Where is the spring?

"It is said... in a mountain valley to the north..."