Chapter 190: Mud in the Crotch

Time seemed to come to a complete standstill.

Just a moment ago, the Warchief had been enjoying smooth sailing, with countless orcs cheering in support of his imminent victory. The exuberant cheers seemed to pierce the very heavens. On the human side, each person clenched their fists in anxiety, wishing they could intervene and slay the monstrous chieftain threatening their great hero, Anduin Lothar.

However, in the next instant, the story took a 180-degree turn. Lothar, who should have been killed, miraculously reversed the situation. He struck a painful blow that would cripple any descendants with a divine sword, teaching the Blackhand a lesson, and then gracefully followed up with a backstab. It was clear the Warchief was done for, and in this duel, Lothar emerged victorious.

A few seconds later, the orcs who appeared to be choking on their own surprise erupted into an even greater commotion.

No, this was no longer a mere commotion; it was a full-blown rebellion.

But the Warchief's dying roar provided all the orcs with a reason.

In two simple sentences, he cried out, "Orgrim--You traitor!"

Traitor?

Why would Orgrim, who had always been loyal to the Warchief, become a traitor?

Did Orgrim do something to sabotage the Warchief?

The orcs' simplistic thought process struggled to understand the situation.

No matter, Duke played his part in pushing the events forward.

From inside the houses on both sides of the orc gathering, someone suddenly shouted in Orcish, "We are the Shadow's bane!"

At least a third of the orcs present hesitated for a second before realizing what was happening. They immediately turned their axes and cleavers against the Blackrock clan warriors, focusing especially on the Blackhand's personal guard.

At the same time, a massive flaming chalice appeared in Duke's hand. With a forceful shove, he hurled it into the densest concentration of the Blackhand's guards, causing a cacophony of agonized screams.

King Llane and Bolvar were dumbfounded, their expressions translating to, "Bloody hell, is this really the signal!?"

All the minor details were unimportant. What mattered was that Duke had sent the signal.

From nearby houses, nearly a hundred people shouted in Orcish, "Avenge Durotan!"

Accompanying the shouts, dozens of Frostwolf clan banners rose from the surrounding houses.

At this point, all the bewildered Blackrock clan orcs finally "understood." The Warchief's defeat must have been Orgrim's doing!

It was simple. Everyone knew that Orgrim and Frostwolf chieftain Durotan were sworn brothers. However, after crossing through the Dark Portal into this world, Durotan was exiled by the entire Horde for opposing Gul'dan.

Now, it seemed Durotan was dead. This could explain why Orgrim would betray the Warchief--it was to avenge his fallen comrade!

Enraged, the Blackrock clan warriors roared out their fury.

"Orgrim--you traitor! Have you forgotten the Warchief's kindness toward you?"

"Orgrim! Have you forgotten that it was the Warchief who sacrificed his own hands to help you retrieve the Doomhammer?"

"Orgrim--you are unworthy of being a great orc!"

"Orgrim, you've conspired with humans to assassinate the Warchief!?"

The furious howls pierced the skies, audible even several blocks away. At this point, not only the Blackrock clan but also the clans in other city districts engaged in pillaging and burning heard the uproar.

Orgrim was utterly dumbfounded. His mind was filled with question marks.

How did the humans know about the rebellion, which was supposed to be a top-secret matter?

How did they know that he was raising the banner of revolt because of Durotan's death?

What means did the humans use to make the Warchief suddenly determine, during the duel, that the traitor was Orgrim himself?

Orgrim's thoughts were completely tangled!

Yes, he had indeed prepared for the rebellion, but it was supposed to be an uprising in the orcish way.

If he could kill Blackhand in the sacred Mak'gora, even if other clans were discontent, Orgrim would still be a legitimate 'rebel.' As long as he secured the position of Warchief, he could justifiably accuse Gul'dan of using demonic means to poison the orcs and purge the Shadow Council. The code phrase 'We are the Shadow's Bane' was intended to suppress any Blackrock clan orcs who refused to obey his orders after he became Warchief.

However, everything had gone awry.

The Warchief, due to 'Orgrim's betrayal,' died by the sword of a human in the Mak'gora. His subordinates, upon hearing the code phrase, promptly launched an attack against the Blackhand's guards. The raised banners of the Frostwolf clan further pushed him and his followers onto the opposing side of the entire Horde.

What was going on?

Orgrim felt as if an invisible, sinister hand was lurking behind him, smearing his name ruthlessly.

This was truly like mud falling into his pants – whether it was poop or not, there was no way he could clarify the situation.

At this moment, Duke yelled in Orcish, full of righteousness, "I don't know what you orcs are up to, but the victor of the Mak'gora is our Anduin Lothar!"

Had Duke not yelled, Orgrim wouldn't have had a revelation.

This was an intuition beyond reason; Orgrim instinctively felt that the powerful and cunning young human mage Duke was the root cause of everything.

Duke had thwarted his attack on Stormwind Keep.

It was Duke who set fire to nearly half of the Elwynn Forest, forcing the Horde to split its forces prematurely.

And it was Duke who orchestrated this bizarre Mak'gora from beginning to end!

"You better remember me because I'll become your nightmare!" The words Duke had said that day still echoed in Orgrim's ears.

Gazing at the mysterious, faint smile on Duke's lips, at that moment, Orgrim was absolutely certain that everything was Duke's doing!

"Duke Marcus," Orgrim finally remembered Duke's name – as an arch-nemesis, with hatred as the engraving!

But, what of it?

Orgrim, wielding the Doomhammer, tried to charge forward but found himself held back by two highly skilled Blackhand bodyguard captains who were desperately attacking him. He couldn't break through until they were dealt with.

Meanwhile, Lothar had successfully severed Blackhand's massive head and was rushing over with the head in one hand and his sword in the other. Lothar, covering King Llane, was quickly retreating toward the Stormwind Harbor.

Llane's face was filled with boundless joy, "We did it?"

"We did it! Let's go!"