"A great honor is laid before you, Saurfang the Great."
Thrall gazed at the strong, Orcs Veteran, and beneath his seemingly honest face, Thrall saw a hidden cunning.
Orcs who only know how to use strength and rage are destined not to become heroes. Cunning and treachery are the keys to becoming an Orcs Warrior. Thrall called this fighting with his brain.
"We need to unify the Warsong Clan and bring all Orcs under my wise leadership. Grom Hellscream clearly does not wish to be subservient. Saurfang the Great, this honor belongs to you."
In the struggle for power, Orcs place great importance on seniority. No matter how high Thrall's reputation or how strong he is, he is still a junior. It would be difficult for him to be on equal footing with a veteran chieftain like Grom, let alone be above him.
In fact, in Orcs tradition, it is very difficult for a junior to replace a senior unless he kills him, just like Kilrogg Deadeye, who had to kill his father to rightfully inherit the chieftainship, even though his father was old and frail.
More often than not, this is also a test of succession to the chieftainship, a bloody ceremony of inheritance.
"Are you going to kill Hellscream?" Saurfang said with a simple smile, but there was a trace of sinisterness flashing through:
"I've long disliked this old Orcs. He's too stubborn; he only follows tradition. The Orcs under his leadership have no future. We need to harness the Legion's power and let the raging Fel burn across the entire world."
"Saurfang, remember, killing is only a last resort." Thrall gave a seemingly benevolent smile, "Killing has made me grow a lot. The fear of death is too monotonous; the living can easily forget it."
Thrall thought of Jaina, the Dalaran Mages as docile as a kitten, who added a mysterious hue to Thrall's career, allowing Thrall to grasp a deeper meaning of fear.
He is constantly growing and has gradually abandoned the Orcs' tradition of killing.
"I will make Grom Hellscream suffer a despair worse than death, make him grovel before me like a dog, licking my toes to survive, and let the living Grommash Hellscream terrify all Orcs. Heh, Grommash Hellscream, a fine old dog. For the honor and faith of the Orcs, Saurfang the Great, you know what to do."
Saurfang the Great clearly felt the icy chill.
He knew very well the Orcs' tradition: the struggle for power was always filled with bloodshed and slaughter, but even the most ruthless Orcs, while trampling on the lives of their enemies, would preserve their honor and dignity.
How cruel and heartless it is to shatter the dignity of a great Orcs Warrior.
"No, this honor is too heavy a burden; I'm afraid I can't bear it."
Faced with Thrall's aggressive demeanor, even the brave and cunning Saurfang felt a sense of unease, and his heart began to waver and doubt.
"Heh." Thrall grinned, and said in a sinister tone:
"Saurfang, you are not the only choice. If you don't want a tragic Destiny to befall you, you'd better accept this honor obediently. I will bring a new Order to the Orcs, and you will be the gatekeeper of this Order. Don't disappoint me, Saurfang. I've heard you have a son living in Nagrand, Outland."
"No!"
Saurfang was terrified. Threatening someone with their family was utterly dishonorable for Orcs; in Orcs tradition, it was the most despicable and contemptible act. Perhaps only Orcs leader with such no moral compass could lead the Orcs to a glorious future, Saurfang could only console himself with this thought.
"Willing to serve the great Savior."
Saurfang knelt down, prostrating himself at Thrall's feet.
Bang!
Arthas' warhammer slammed into the chest of the Orcs Veteran.
With the final, fatal blow, the blood-soaked Veteran Orcs into a pool of blood.
This was the third Orcs Veteran Arthas had defeated, and all of them were at their peak condition. Even without using the Holy Light, Arthas did not feel the slightest bit tired; the continuous battles excited him to the core.
A skilled instructor can help recruits avoid many pitfalls. Once they understand the Orcs' weaknesses and master a complete and systematic set of combat techniques against Orcs, all that's left is for them to train diligently to become proficient.
Arthas's persistence meant he never hesitated to put in the hard work.
With nimble footwork and careful observation of the opponent, the user provokes the Orcs with various provocations and small actions, forcing them into a berserk state. After a brief period of berserk state, the Orcs inevitably enter a period of fatigue, followed by rhythmic combat to prevent them from recovering their strength. The user then delivers a fatal blow when the Orcs are at their most exhausted.
This skill is very useful in one-on-one or small-scale battles, but its usefulness is limited on large-scale Battlefields. Therefore, humans must try their best to avoid direct combat with Orcs.
Robbie was carefully observing Arthas's growth. The brutal killing thrilled the Prince, but he did not lose his mind and remained clear-headed. Arthas was the most terrifying enemy, but also the most reliable ally.
The combat skills against Orcs, learned at the cost of countless lives, were also etched into Robbie's mind. He felt he knew more than Arthas, but couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.
Baron Rivendare was very satisfied with Arthas's performance. He truly deserved to be Destiny chosen one; his combat instincts had grown so quickly that no other recruit could match them.
A new recruit needs three to six months of training to be able to hold his own against Orcs in a one-on-one fight, while Arthas only needs three days to defeat three Orcs Veteran in a row.
That's talent.
Baron Rivendare secretly rejoiced; Uther had almost ruined a promising talent.
"Brave and fearless Your Prince," Baron Rivendare lavished praise on the Prince, "It seems the warhammer is the most suitable weapon for you; you need a weapon commensurate with your status and strength."
Two soldiers carried in a heavy warhammer.
This is a warhammer with alternating gold and silver colors, exuding a sense of weight and solidity.
"The Holy Light's Vengeance." Baron Rivendare said solemnly, "King Terenas probably foresaw this day long ago. He entrusted this weapon to me long ago, hoping I would pass it on to you."
"My child, raise your warhammer, for the glory of Lordaeron will forever shine upon you."
Arthas raised his warhammer with one hand, Holy Light flowing from it, its bright radiance illuminating the entire fortress.
Baron Rivendare smiled with delight, letting out a long sigh of relief.
"There is finally hope for Lordaeron."
Back in his tent, Arthas looked at his weapons, his face haggard.
"Robbie, do you know why I've grown up so fast?" His eyes were bloodshot, and his voice was hoarse.
"The soldiers killed by the Orcs on this land gathered around me, constantly demonstrating their experiences of being slaughtered by the Orcs. They showed me the Orcs' fighting techniques, and they imparted to me the invaluable experience gained at the cost of their lives. Dark twilight shrouded this tragic land. I will make all the murderers pay the price in blood. I will make them live forever in regret and remorse. I swear."