Chapter 198: Judgment

As Duke arrived in Southshore, preparing to visit the Barov family, a massive event unfolded within the Horde.

Judgment!

"Traitor!"

"Orgrim—shame of the orcs—"

"Feed the wolves! Feed the wolves! Feed the wolves!"

The clamor filled the entire Horde encampment.

The eyes of every Horde warrior were bloodshot with rage, their necks bulging as if stuffed with two ferocious cords, thick and red. They opened their fang-filled mouths wide, letting out earth-shaking roars.

At the center of the gathering, Orgrim was on his knees—once the Warchief's right-hand man, now a traitor in the eyes of his fellow orcs.

The horns summoning the chieftains still echoed mournfully, their somber sounds lamenting the unexpected death of the Warchief and stirring the anger within the orcs.

Countless stones of various sizes were hurled at the kneeling Orgrim.

These stones, some as large as a human fist, struck Orgrim's face without causing any fatal injuries, but still inflicted great pain.

However, the physical pain couldn't surpass the agony in his heart.

The heartache of a hundred thousand elite warriors reduced to ashes, the sorrow for the uncertain future of the orcs, and the grief of knowing that once Gul'dan returned, he would lead the orcs to their doom.

The events of that day continued to play in Orgrim's mind.

The image and laughter of his friend Durotan still echoed in his thoughts:

On that day, Durotan had come.

He told Doomhammer everything he knew—the pact with the demonic lord, the filthy and treacherous origin of Gul'dan's power, and the betrayal of the clans under the manipulations of the Shadow Council.

The orcs' ultimate, humiliating fate would be to serve as bait for the demons of the Burning Legion.

As Orgrim listened, he struggled to keep his broad face indifferent, his demeanor and posture befitting the Warchief's right-hand man.

Yet within his sturdy chest, his heart pounded wildly, like his famous Doomhammer smashing human flesh.

Could this be true?

It seemed like the ramblings of a fool whose mind had been warped by the unknown energies of the Dark Portal.

Demons? Dark pacts?

What a joke!

But it was Durotan who spoke.

Durotan wasn't just one of the Horde's wisest, bravest, and most honorable chieftains. He was also a dear friend who Orgrim had trusted with his life on multiple occasions, and who had repaid that trust with his own greatness, courage, and integrity.

If any other orc had spoken these words, Orgrim would have taught them a lesson with a single swing of his hammer. But if it was Durotan, Orgrim's answer was—credible!

Moreover, in the days that followed, Durotan paid the ultimate price for his integrity and loyalty to the Horde. He and his wife Draka were assassinated by the Shadow Council!

Whenever Orgrim recalled that scene, his usually steady hands couldn't help but tremble.

Orgrim couldn't help but ask himself, "Am I to die? As a traitor, in such a pathetic manner? No—I have much left to do! If I were to die like this, no one would be able to stop Gul'dan, the true traitor who would lead the entire Horde into the abyss of death, shamelessly selling the souls of all orcs to demons!"

Upon thinking about it, Orgrim suddenly let out a thunderous roar that shook the heavens and earth.

"I — am — not — a — traitor —"

Orgrim's voice was so loud, the roar like rolling thunder, that it managed to drown out the clamor of thousands of orcs present. The faces of every orc instantly froze, their roars stuck in their throats, unable to come out.

"If you're not a traitor, then who is?" A deep voice rang out, but it carried an icy, unapproachable coldness, hinting at the capricious nature of its owner.

Kilrogg Deadeye, the chieftain of the Bleeding Hollow clan, had to temporarily hand over the army to his second-in-command due to the unexpected death of the Warchief, and he led his personal guards back.

Today, with the Blackrock clan severely weakened, the influence of the Bleeding Hollow clan had undoubtedly increased significantly. Among the dozens of chieftains present, his authority ranked within the top three.

Orgrim stood up defiantly, unafraid to lock eyes with Kilrogg's remaining eye.

For a brief moment, Orgrim almost blurted out the words, coming so close to saying "Gul'dan is the traitor." But at that moment, the face of Duke, a human mage with a perpetual mysterious smile, intruded into Orgrim's mind.

Duke Markus — the most powerful and cunning mage among the humans, the mastermind behind everything. He had led the orcs into a death trap, and he had killed Warchief Blackhand. Without him, the orcs might have struggled, but their victory would not have been so costly.

Orgrim had an even clearer realization: only Gul'dan, a fellow practitioner of the arcane arts, could deal with this mysterious figure!

Neither he nor the other orc chieftains had any way of dealing with Duke.

With that in mind, Orgrim swallowed his words and burst into wild laughter.

"Ha! Hahaha! Kilrogg, you amuse me! Why do you believe that I am a traitor who would slaughter a hundred thousand of my own kind for the humans? Why do you trust the lies of the humans more than the loyalty of an orc? Why do you believe a despicable mage who has repeatedly set fire to our orcish people?"

Orgrim's rebuttal left the surrounding chieftains and countless lesser leaders flabbergasted.

Orgrim directly accused Duke of being the arsonist, and he was absolutely correct.

Grommash Hellscream stepped forward: "Then how do you explain that more than one orc who survived nearby testified that the Warchief called you a traitor before he died? And why did your people attack the Warchief's personal guards?"

"Don't you think that suddenly going mad and attacking one's own comrades is a familiar scene?"

It had to be said that Orgrim also had the makings of a great actor.

Indeed, it was a familiar scene — the one where orc warlocks used fear magic on human soldiers.

"You're saying Gul'dan betrayed us!?" Grommash furrowed his brow.

"I never said that. But you may have noticed that the humans' tactics and equipment have been constantly improving. So it's not impossible for them to have gained the power of warlocks!"

The orc chieftains began to ponder.

At this point, Kilrogg Deadeye stepped in front of Orgrim again, "My 'Deadeye' tells me you shouldn't die here as a traitor. I know you're one of the wisest warriors among the orcs and have ambitions to ascend to the position of the chieftain. I can give you a chance to prove yourself, as long as you participate in the Bagra'sh!"

Orgrim's heart leaped violently, almost bursting out of his chest.