Chapter 335: The Stone Giant Fozruk

Crossing the Thandol Span into the Arathi Highlands, following the winding road to the west, you would arrive at the capital of the Kingdom of Stromgarde, Stromgarde Keep.

As the ancient capital of the Arathor Empire over two thousand years ago, as a solid dirt road trampled by countless people, horses, and various livestock over hundreds of years, at this moment, anyone gazing at the road would notice it vibrating.

Not just the road, the entire land was shaking, as if it were a cup of beer being served to a guest on a tray. No, it seemed as if the entire Arathi Highlands were trembling slightly.

If one could look down from the sky, they would see three groups of people running on the road.

The front group was nearly ten thousand Stromgarde infantry and craftsmen. After a night of forced march, they were less than twenty kilometers away from Stromgarde Keep. The Stromgarde Highland Knights were covering them not far away, with mounted scouts constantly exploring the rear.

The few Gryphon Riders also joined the scouting line.

The middle group was small, with only a pitiful hundred riders and a carriage.

The last group was a sea of green orcs, at least thirty thousand orcs were running less than half a kilometer behind the middle group, trying to catch up with them and tear them to pieces.

It wasn't that the middle group was faster, but every time a Wolf Rider approached within three hundred meters of the rear of the middle group, an arrow would cut through the dawn - the shining arrowhead, like a black shuttle, all the light slid past it on both sides, with a sharp whistle, whether the incoming orc tried to dodge or block, it would definitely hit its vital point and kill him.

On the back seat of the carriage, a woman with a bow, her golden hair flying, her green ranger cloak was like a banner. That banner represented a name well known among the Horde - Sylvanas!

And at the front of the entire team, a knight shining with holy golden light held up a banner, the pattern on the banner was simple, just a tornado-like blue storm.

For the orcs, this banner was not unfamiliar.

This represented another enemy of the orcs, the human mage hero, Duke Marcus.

Even though there were many other banners on the Alliance side, the simple-minded orcs only remembered a few, and Duke's blue storm banner was the most impressive.

They were so crazily chasing Duke that they didn't even realize they had already deviated from the mainland and were heading towards the northern part of the Arathi Highlands.

The orcs were foolish, but the knights who had just pledged allegiance to Duke were not.

Why was Duke doing this? Wasn't it to lead the orcs away and prevent them from catching up with those last retreating Stromgarde soldiers?

Even though they had already sworn allegiance, their origins would not change, their memories were still filled with deep feelings for the Arathi Highlands, in a moment of excited trance, the blue storm banner in their eyes changed. It seemed to have become the battle flag of Emperor Thoradin that shone on the battlefield two thousand eight hundred years ago.

Duke's slender figure seemed to overlap with that legendary Emperor Thoradin.

Equally noble and great.

Equally selfless across clan and national boundaries.

Standing at the forefront of resisting foreign races for the proliferation and future of the human race, without regret.

The knights' eyes were quietly moist.

Soon, their moist eyes widened in shock.

The sun was high in the sky, the vast mountains in the north of the Arathi Highlands had been covered by the sun's light, dispelling the morning fog's confusion, and all the scenery on the highlands was sprinkled with golden fragments. But in the increasingly ominous distance, one could vaguely see an incredibly large humanoid silhouette.

"My lord! We cannot proceed, that's one of the few forbidden areas in the Arathi Highlands, there is..." A knight reminded Duke.

Duke gave a mysterious smile, "You're talking about Fozruk? That's exactly who I'm looking for!"

The knight was completely dumbfounded.

What? My lord is actually looking for trouble with Fozruk?

The sunlight, like a violent axe, split the floating clouds in the sky, pouring down on the earth.

On the Arathi Highlands, green grass was everywhere, and spring flowers bloomed all over the highland prairie.

But on the grassland, a glaring fresh green covered the natural green of the grass.

Tens of thousands of orcs wearing newly made armor marched in unison, countless rough battle flags entered the vision of Duke and his knights.

As always, they were ghostly symbols.

Each one was painted with symbols that only orcs could understand in Marshal. From pheasants to lions, axes, hammers, ragged or intact hammers, all were messy but none were repeated.

The only one Duke recognized was a banner marked with black tusks.

The Black Tooth clan - after their father Blackhand, who was the Warchief, was killed by Anduin Lothar, Rend and his brother Maim insisted that it was Orgrim who had killed their father. They vowed to take back the power and position that belonged to their father from Orgrim. This idea received public support from many orcs. To avoid civil war, and to show his innocence, Orgrim allowed all this, and the Black Tooth clan was born.

The Blackrock clan, it must be said, was worthy of being the first clan of the orcs, their warriors were so numerous, their strength so formidable. Even after the split, they were still incredibly powerful.

Orgrim took the most elite Blackrock clan warriors to Hinterlands, and the rest joined Rend's Black Tooth clan.

The overall commander of the southern Horde, Rend Blackhand, rode out on a huge black war wolf. Confident in his reaction and martial power, he, along with twelve bodyguards, approached Duke and his knights who were lined up in a row.

Until a hundred meters away, Rend Blackhand suddenly stopped.

"Duke Marcus! Today is your day of death! In consideration of the fact that you, a coward, are finally willing to face your death, I will not cut off your head as a trophy. The head of a conspirator is not worthy of being my military honor."

Duke bared his teeth, thinking to himself: Damn, I'm really being underestimated!

Duke laughed loudly, "Ha ha ha! You want my head? You have to get past my servant Fozruk first."

Suddenly, not only Rend, but even the orcs far behind Rend felt the ground tremble. That was the huge footstep sound produced by a single creature.

The one who could have such a heavy, thunderous footstep must be an unimaginable giant.

Sure enough, in the orcs' field of vision, an incredibly large stone giant appeared, taking measured steps.

This giant was a full thirty meters tall, his body constructed of metallic ore and a large amount of stone, his clenched giant fist was as big as Rend's chieftain tent.

He was the taboo of the Arathi Highlands - the Stone Giant Fozruk!