Chapter 149: The Peril of Stormwind City - Part 2

Amidst the thunderous rumbling of the earth, the green tidal wave split into three, and razor-sharp axes gleamed menacingly under the sunlight. From above, it appeared as if a gigantic trident had sprouted from the Elwynn Forest.

Lothar gently raised his left hand, then quickly and forcefully brought it down. "Click, click, click!" After a strange sound of loosening gears, ten massive catapults standing taller than the outer city walls behind Lothar launched a volley of boulders.

The irregularly shaped stones, held in a net, scattered midair, emitting a chilling, shrieking sound. Seconds later, under the force of gravity, the stones rained down like a torrential storm on the surging green tide.

The orcs had used catapults before, but they had never seen them used like a scattergun. The fist-sized stones meant nothing to them on a regular day, but now, with their high velocity, they became deadly weapons.

An unfortunate orc struck by a stone had its face distorted, then, along with its protruding tusks, the bones of its cheeks and chin were crushed under the immense force. The force halted the hulking body's forward momentum and, in an instant, began to recoil.

The skull was shattered into countless fragments held together by bloody flesh, with brains bursting out and the neck bones snapping.

The orc's lifeless body, now growing cold, plummeted to the ground. Most of those struck did not die instantly, but their internal organs were pulverized by the impact. Vomiting blood filled with fragments of their innards, their deaths were merely a matter of time.

The ferocity of the humans' ranged attacks made both Warchief Blackhand and Orgrim Doomhammer squint. This was just the beginning.

As Lothar drew his longsword, it fell swiftly to the ground. Simultaneously, a "whoosh" sounded from the three layers of the city walls and the gaps between them.

It was difficult to associate the droning sound with the dim sky, but after the drone, the entire sky darkened. Orgrim instinctively looked up, only to see a massive rain of black spears rising from the human city. He recognized them as the despicable humans' javelins.

This was the greatest blasphemy against the brave warriors of the Horde. Many warriors did not die on the battlefield but perished to these strange and disgusting javelins.

If one carelessly used too much force, the spearhead or the fragile part of the shaft would be left inside the body. In hot weather, even if the spearhead was dug out with a dagger, the wound would easily become infected. Orgrim had seen several warriors die this way.

"Damn! If only we had a shaman..." Orgrim dared only to grumble in his heart. The Horde's traditional shamans had been replaced by more sinister and cunning warlocks.

Not a single shaman capable of healing could be found in the entire Horde expedition. What angered Orgrim even more was the news he had received. His close friend—Durotan, the chieftain of the Frostwolf clan—had visited him with his wife Draka just two days ago.

Months earlier, due to suspicion of Gul'dan's treacherous dealings with demons, Gul'dan had preemptively used Warchief Blackhand to exile Durotan and the Frostwolf clan to the distant, snowy lands of Alterac Valley. But two days ago, Durotan told him of Gul'dan's betrayal.

Orgrim swore that Gul'dan's actions would be punished, and he sent one of his guards to escort Durotan and his family on their journey.

In recent times, Gul'dan had gone missing, and to Orgrim's recollection, it had been over two months since Gul'dan had made a public appearance. Orgrim demanded that Blackhand punish Gul'dan and the Shadow Council, but his request was met with Blackhand's cold refusal.

Orgrim's dissatisfaction only grew. All he lacked was a reason to explode...

Watching Blackhand's clumsy command, Orgrim felt an urge to vomit.

The dark, heavy rain of spears came crashing down, and the charging orc battalion seemed to have collided with an invisible wall. In an instant, like harvested wheat, they fell in large swaths.

The field was a mess, littered with the bodies of orc soldiers impaled on the ground.

Orgrim had strongly advised equipping the soldiers with thick enough shields before the battle, as sieges were different from field battles. But what had Blackhand said?

"Invincible orc warriors have no fear of despicable spears."

This was like using orc soldiers to fill an eternally insatiable death pit!

The Dark Portal had mysteriously closed, and with Gul'dan missing, the orc expeditionary force had no backup. Each dead warrior was a loss to the Horde, and yet Blackhand still wasted their lives so recklessly!?

Orgrim's fangs gritted with frustration.

"The city is breached!?" A cry of surprise and delight suddenly came from the front.

Orgrim instinctively felt that something was wrong. It was too easy. The human defenses that had been set up for so long were so easily broken? The heavy losses at the previous village near Stormwind were still fresh in Orgrim's memory.

Blackhand triumphantly waved his stone-fist, bellowing, "See! The warriors of the Horde are invincible."

Nearly a thousand orcs charged through the breached wooden gate, and immediately Orgrim realized something was amiss. As a large number of orcs entered, a steel lattice as thick as an orc's thigh suddenly dropped from the gate.

The next moment, flames shot up into the sky.

The entire battlefield was filled with the desperate screams of a thousand orcs at once.

Yes! That was a trap set by the humans, a pot-like enclosure filled with whale blubber. Once a large number of orcs rushed in, the human soldiers dropped an enhanced 'thousand-pound latch' and then set it on fire...

Orcs were indeed brave warriors, but in the face of a nearly 30-foot high steep wall and thousands of well-prepared spearmen and pike soldiers, any attempt to climb was doomed to be in vain. Countless torches were thrown down, turning the entire pot into a hell of flames.

The screams of the ambushed orcs even caused the orcs outside, attempting to scale the walls with crude wooden ladders, to falter.

"Ha-ha-ha! Burn well!" Despite the charred smell of roasted meat still clearly reaching his nostrils through a prepared cloth, King Llane was extremely excited, loudly praising the brilliant strategy left behind by Duke.

The terrible losses turned Blackhand's face as black as the bottom of a pot.

"Retreat!" In a rare move, Blackhand ordered the retreat.

Then, for seven consecutive days, the Horde launched one ferocious assault after another on Stormwind City. Each day, the Horde left behind at least three thousand corpses, and their best achievement was barely reaching the second wall.

On the eighth day, the situation turned around.

"We found a way to capture Stormwind City!"