Chapter 167: A New Direction

The crowd couldn't help but stir even more as the black flames of the distant fire rose into the sky, clearly visible even beyond the towering city walls.

At first, people didn't know that it was Duke who had started the fire. As soon as the messenger announced it, the crowd immediately boiled with excitement!

"Long live the Kingdom of Stormwind!"

"Long live King Llane!"

"Long live Duke Marcus—"

People were simple and honest. Whoever could bring them a safe and happy life would be their heaven, their god. Since the Dark Portal War began, the kingdom had been retreating on all fronts.

Redridge Mountains had fallen.

Half of Duskwood had fallen.

Not long ago, the whole of Elwynn Forest, the kingdom's proudest heartland, had also fallen into the hands of those brutal and terrifying orcs.

What was unbearable was that just yesterday, those green-skinned demons had invaded the city.

People were panicked, and they unconsciously lost faith in the king and the entire kingdom.

It was at this time that the news of Duke's great victory came, like a spring of clear water, washing away the gloom in people's hearts. This timely victory was like a shot of adrenaline, successfully restoring the confidence of both the military and civilians.

The Horde had withdrawn, and even if it was temporary, it lifted the Sword of Damocles hanging over their heads. People are like that; even if they vaguely know they are still hovering near the gates of hell, the threat doesn't seem as clear as long as they don't see it with their own eyes.

Duke, the Sea King.

Duke, the hero!

Duke, the new guardian of the kingdom!

The fame of Duke Marcus spread wildly in various ways. In the following days, Duke rode his gryphon, setting fires all over Elwynn Forest.

A noble mage had become an arsonist.

For the self-proclaimed noble mages, this was an incredible thing. There had been opposition, but in the face of astonishing results, such voices soon disappeared.

First, Duke had the absolute support of the king.

Second, with the dwindling talent of the royal mage corps, and the only Morningstar mage serving as the king's personal guard, no one was qualified to criticize Duke, who had appeared as a hero to defeat Sargeras.

Duke's fires were effective.

The phrase "scorching summer" was no joke. The dry forest caught fire easily, and a few fireballs in the windward direction would start an almost unquenchable forest fire.

If it weren't for Orgrim's proposal to have the orc clans urgently prepare, their losses would have been even worse.

Duke's ruthless tactic of setting the forest ablaze caught Orgrim off guard. The continuous fire and thick smoke covered the sky, turning the entire forest into a flaming hell.

All the trees in the area were burned to ashes by Duke, except for those that had already been cut down or those near the lakes and rivers in Elwynn Forest.

The resulting problems drove the Horde leaders almost insane.

"We have no food," Orgrim announced during a meeting of the Horde chieftains.

Horde warriors could easily fight three humans on the battlefield. They also had a comparable appetite.

The aggressive orcs were not like the weak humans in their eyes, who could survive on bread alone. To maintain their muscular physique, a large amount of meat was essential.

The Horde's hunters had to venture deep into the forest daily to hunt a large number of animals.

Unlike their homeland of Draenor, there were not many large or giant creatures in Elwynn Forest. Boars, worgen, and even captured murlocs had all become meals for the orcs. Almost every creature larger than a squirrel had been hunted to near extinction in the forest.

The rapid expansion of their territory hadn't made them notice this issue before, but now that their offensive had stalled and the forest was suddenly ablaze, these muscleheads finally realized the severity of the problem.

"Aren't the peons learning to raise pigs?" Blackhand asked in a gruff voice.

"Pigs don't grow up in a day," Orgrim replied, his patience with Blackhand's lack of intelligence wearing thin. He now felt that having a Warchief like Blackhand was like riding a dire wolf sprinting straight to hell.

All the chieftains turned their gaze to Warchief Blackhand, expecting him to come up with a solution.

As the first Warchief of the Horde, Blackhand was not the sharpest tool in the shed. It could be said that Gul'dan had deliberately chosen Blackhand for the position, to make controlling the Horde easier for himself.

Likewise, in their clans, the chieftains were often the bravest and strongest fighters, while the smartest were usually the shaman.

But now, the shaman profession had declined, and the warlocks who had replaced them were mysterious and secretive. Recently, even the Shadow Council's warlocks had vanished without a trace.

Suddenly expecting Blackhand to come up with a plan, the Warchief was at a loss.

Involuntarily, Blackhand, the Warchief, cast his gaze upon his most trusted lieutenant, Orgrim Doomhammer.

In that moment, Orgrim's anger surged a hundred, a thousand times.

He had had enough!

He was fed up with this Warchief who sheltered the Shadow Council responsible for killing his friends Durotan and Draka.

He was fed up with this reckless Warchief who did not care about the lives of the Horde's warriors.

He was fed up with this Blackhand, who had no wits or responsibility when faced with challenges!

Orgrim made a decision—after the Horde had weathered this crisis, he would challenge Warchief Blackhand to a Mak'gora, the traditional duel for the title of Warchief, according to the customs recognized by the clans. He would kill this puppet of the Shadow Council in the duel and then deal with the Shadow Council itself.

But Duke's ruthless and effective magical attacks had left a deep impression on Orgrim.

Only a mysterious being could deal with another mysterious being!

For the first time, Orgrim hesitated about whether to eradicate Gul'dan and his warlocks completely.

However, the immediate crisis needed to be dealt with first.

Orgrim pointed to the north on a military map confiscated from the humans: "Attacking this tiny Stormwind City doesn't require so many Horde warriors. Warchief, I suggest we split our forces. In this place called Ironforge, there is another weak and diminutive race of humanoids called dwarves. If the Horde is to become the master of this land, we should not let any power on this land go unchecked."

Blackhand and the other chieftains' eyes lit up at once.

When they first arrived in Azeroth, the entire Horde was in the dark, knowing neither where they were nor the number and location of their enemies.

After killing a considerable number of humans and capturing their maps, the chieftains finally learned more about their surroundings.

Now Orgrim's proposal had undoubtedly pointed them in a brighter direction.