The savage roar of the orcs and the orderly sound of human shield strikes echoed throughout Stormwind City.
No one didn't admire heroes. Even in today's large-scale battles, where individual strength seems weak, this bloody and heroic fighting still stimulates the adrenaline of every spectator, secreting a substance called "fanaticism."
Only true experts could see that the balance of victory was still slowly tilting towards the humans.
Orgrim was anxious.
Warchief Blackhand had to die, but not at the hands of humans.
To die in a one-on-one life-and-death duel against a weak human was a shame, a shame for all the orcs in the Horde.
Even if the orcs conquered the entire planet of Azeroth someday, they would still be nailed to the pillar of shame and pass on this humiliation.
Although he hated Blackhand and wanted him dead, Orgrim deeply understood that at this moment, his interests were aligned with Blackhand's.
Suddenly, the Warchief unleashed his ultimate move.
Abruptly, he grabbed his shoulder and pulled out two intact dragon-like bones that looked somewhat like crocodile skeletons. In the next moment, Blackhand suddenly threw out the two bones.
In less than one percent of a second, the skeleton made up of hundreds of bone joints exploded. In the blink of an eye, it turned into hundreds of shrapnel bombs containing fierce fire elements and shot towards Lothar.
Lothar had a chance to dodge, but at this moment, Orgrim cheated.
"Good--" It sounded like Orgrim's deputy was cheering for himself.
Why use such an intimidating power similar to a "lion's roar" to cheer for his boss? It was already a warrior's demoralizing roar!
The deafening roar, reaching at least 150 decibels, obviously affected Lothar.
Lothar trembled all over and at that moment, he lost his chance to dodge. Even for experienced old warriors like Lothar, it was difficult to make too many good remedies when they missed their chance.
Lothar gave up on evasion and resolutely knelt on one knee, crouching behind his shield.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" The fierce blows that were almost as fast as machine gun fire almost completely shattered Lothar's shield. After a round of fire skeleton swept over, Lothar's shield became ragged and tattered, with several places shining through. Fortunately, Lothar himself wasn't injured.
The consequence was serious, Lothar completely lost his blocking skill.
"What are you doing!?" Llane, Varian, and several senior marshals simultaneously yelled in anger.
After Duke translated, Orgrim sneered: "I didn't intervene! If a true warrior can't resist the cheering of his enemy, then he is dead anyway."
His words almost drove Llane and others crazy.
At this time, Duke suddenly revealed the same sneer: "Are you saying that influencing an enemy with language and sound is not cheating!?"
Orgrim didn't speak, which undoubtedly meant agreement.
Lothar was in a desperate situation.
It was a corner of the square, with towering marble walls on both sides, and there was no room for evasion.
"Anduin Lothar, I will remember your name, but you can go to hell--" The Warchief let out a victorious roar.
At this moment, the cheers of the orcs reached their peak, and the fierce shouts almost overturned the clouds in the sky.
They cheered for the greatness of the Warchief, praised Blackhand's bravery.
As long as the first human champion was killed, the head of the human Warchief was within reach.
This symbolized the invincible orcs conquering the weak other race once again!
Supreme glory!
The best of Mak'gora!
At the next moment, the cheers of the orcs reached their peak, and the fierce cheers almost overturned the clouds in the sky.
They shouted the greatness of the Warchief and praised the bravery of Blackhand.
If the first human champion was killed, the head of the human Warchief would be easily taken. This symbolized the invincible orcs conquering the weak other race again!
Supreme glory!
The best of Mak'gora!
At the next moment, the cheers of the orcs reached their peak, and the fierce cheers almost overturned the clouds in the sky.
They shouted the greatness of the Warchief and praised the bravery of Blackhand.
However, at this critical moment, Duke's words came into the ears of the Warchief with a light and fluttering tone.
"If I say, the Shadow Council sent someone to assassinate Duke's friend, and Orgrim Doomhammer is planning to overthrow you, the Warchief. As long as he interrogates Garona, he will kill you and wipe out the Shadow Council that killed his friend. What do you think, Warchief?"
Duke was not supposed to be able to say such a long sentence in this moment, but he did.
This is a stacking technique of spells that only mages can use.
Extract all the important syllables from the long sentence and compress it so that even a long spell can become a short form.
Of course, the resulting sound is like pressing dozens of keys on the piano at the same time, which is impossible to distinguish in human hearing.
And most spell stacking only reduces a three-second spell to one second. This is already very remarkable.
Duke has a System Elf. This strongest king system can turn the impossible into possible.
A long sentence was forcibly compressed into a note.
But the Warchief Blackhand, who was the receiver, heard every word clearly.
As a staunch follower of Gul'dan, as a puppet of puppets, and as a puppet who has to help people count money, the Warchief was furious and turned his head abruptly to look at Orgrim.
"Orgrim! Ah--"
For some reason, Lothar didn't know why Blackhand was stunned, which did not hinder Lothar's beautiful slide through Blackhand's legs, and took the opportunity to strike at the fork of Blackhand's thigh.
There is a pain in the world called "egg pain," also known as the most painful for men.
Blackhand couldn't control his body and bent over in pain. The next second, Lothar seized the opportunity to gracefully stab him in the back with his sword.
The majestic King's sword was once again used for sneak attacks, and the sharp blade pierced Blackhand's chest.
But Blackhand, regardless of his injuries, pointed at Orgrim and yelled his last words in anger: "You traitor--"