Those Who Have Gained the Way Find No Help (II)

Hagara the Stormbinder rushed back to the laboratory, hesitating whether he should ask Al'Akir for help.

"Perhaps I should change my approach and use a tougher method."

Hagara recalled Al'Akir's assessment of her, "Womanly and indecisive, unsuitable to be Warrior, best suited for research work behind the scenes."

The Burning Blade Clan doesn't have many miners, so why not use the Gale Force to sweep them all away? Hagara is very confident in his control of the wind and can do it without harming a single person.

"But it's hard to make up my mind. What if I scare the child?"

Hagara rubbed his hands together, trying to recall any magic that could prevent the child from being frightened.

Suddenly, she felt a chill run down her spine, as if a cold, venomous snake had been placed in her arms, and Anachronos had finally locked onto her.

Mastery wind Elemental Magic, Hagara the Stormbinder is most adept at escaping; even Dragonkin can't catch her, and she can easily fly to the Throne of the Four Winds in a flash.

But Hagara couldn't bear to leave the Burning Blade Clan miners behind. He rode the Gale to the camp and shouted, "Quick, Thrall is here! There's no time! I'll ride the Gale and take you away!"

It was during their break time, and the miners looked up at Hagara. Upon hearing Thrall's name, their numb faces lit up with admiration.

"Could it be the great Savior Thrall?"

"Yes, who else but the Savior?"

"We are truly flattered that the Savior Thrall has come to a small place like ours."

"To see Thrall in person, I would gladly die."

Mine owner Orek protested loudly, "Hagara, what are you doing? I've already said we're not going anywhere!"

"You will die." Hagara was about to cry.

Orek declared eloquently, "If the Savior Thrall commands me to die, I will die gloriously, nobly, and with worth. The Burning Blade Clan will never be afraid of death."

Well said.

A somber voice echoed as a shadow fell over the Burning Blade Clan's mining camp. It was an adult Bronze Dragonflight with an Orcs on its back— Thrall.

Behind the Bronze Dragonflight followed a tall stone elemental.

"I am the great Savior Thrall." Thrall grinned maliciously, pointing at Orek: "You are very honored. You can die now. I am very satisfied with your death."

Orek hadn't expected Thrall to actually come, and even to order his death, so he hurriedly said ingratiatingly, "Savior, it was just a joke."

"There is no room for jokes before the great Savior."

Thrall said coldly, "Now, you die immediately, or you destroy Azeroth."

Orek hadn't expected Thrall to be serious, and hurriedly knelt on the ground, kowtowing heavily. "No, no, I don't want to die! Please spare me!"

Thrall grinned maliciously, "Didn't you just say that the Burning Blade Clan is absolutely not afraid of death?"

"No, no, the Burning Blade Clan are all cowardly cowards." To save his life, Orek was truly desperate, even at the cost of the Clans's honor.

"You can live forever if you want, I'm always very merciful." Thrall chuckled coldly, "I've heard you Sands of Time here."

Orek crawled forward on his knees, pleading, "Great Savior Thrall, I am willing to offer all the Sands of Time, twenty-four in total."

Thrall scrutinized him, then sneered, "Your life is incredibly precious; ten thousand grains of Sands of Time would be needed to redeem it."

Orek felt a buzzing in his head and cried out, "Savior, spare me! There really aren't that many!"

"Then hand over all your possessions, and if that's not enough, use your family. Oh, you seem to be the leader here. Very well, your Clans is mine now too," Thrall said smugly.

Orek regretted listening to Hagara; otherwise, he wouldn't have become penniless so quickly. To survive, Orek forced a smile.

"It is my honor to Consecration everything to the great Savior Thrall, an honor for the Burning Blade Clan, and I am proud of my people."

The miners of the Burning Blade Clan around them were stunned. In the blink of an eye, they had been betrayed by the mine owner and become Thrall's private property. In fact, Orek was not the chieftain and had no right to do so.

However, the prospect of the property becoming the private property of the great Savior was a tremendous joy for the humble miners, so no one protested.

Thrall was in high spirits. He had gone to great lengths to subdue Hagara the Stormbinder, but Hagara was too fast and could escape at any moment.

The Burning Blade Clan miners here are Hagara's only weakness.

"Hagara the Stormbinder, the Burning Blade Clan is my property. They did it all of their own volition. For this bunch of trash, are you willing to become my Servant?"

Hagara held Orek's daughter, Jimi, in her arms; this was the only line she stood by. Hagara knew Thrall's character and held no hope for the Burning Blade Clan.

The Enslavement Scroll, covered in milky-white Runes, landed in front of Hagara. Hagara glanced at Orek and signed his name on it.

Thrall spared Orek and announced it to his face:

"I am the great Savior Thrall, I have no need for any trash. The trash of the Burning Blade Clan? Your only value is to become Tough Jerky. Trash has no right to live in this world and waste food. Morchok, crush them into mincemeat."

Controlled by the Enslavement Scroll, Morchok had no choice but to obey.

The Fireblade miners were terrified and scattered in all directions, screaming for their parents. Morchok was huge, but by no means clumsy; his speed was astonishing, and he used his stomp technique in the center of the crowd.

All the Orcs who tried to escape were stunned, coughed up blood, and collapsed to the ground, unable to get up.

Morchok gathered these miners together and faithfully carried out Thrall's orders, pounding them all into mincemeat and leaving them to dry in the sun for several days until they became Tough Jerky.

Jimi, nestled in Hagara's arms, asked Orek, puzzled, "Dad, did you say that the Savior Thrall killed only bad people, and that all the uncles were bad people?"

Orek's nose stung with tears, and he forced a smile, saying, "Yes, they are all bad people. They plotted to destroy Azeroth. They all deserve to die."

The branch of the Burning Blade Clan miners in Uldum thus became history and was completely forgotten.

Two weeks later, Orek, dressed in tattered clothes, appeared at the gates of Orgrimmar.

Orek wept bitterly, sobbing uncontrollably.

He had endured countless hardships and bitter experiences over the past two weeks, but finally arrived at Orgrimmar, the holy land in his heart, as if a happy life was beckoning to him.

Orek firmly believed that under the great leadership of Garrosh, as long as he was willing to work hard and endure hardship, he would surely be able to live a good life again.

Unfortunately, his dream was soon shattered; the guards at the gate refused him entry into the city.

"I am Orek from the Burning Blade Clan," Orek introduced himself. "A seasoned miner."

"So they're just useless trash from the Burning Blade Clan. The Warchief only wants elite Warriors, not miners."

The Warsong Clan Orcs guarding the gate radiated an air of superiority, startling Orek. Then, a familiar voice rang out:

"Trash doesn't deserve to live in this world, Warehouse Number Three, Tough Jerky, that's your only value."

Understanding Garrosh is difficult, because the price is death, but unfortunately, the dead cannot speak.

Thrall looked at the next name on the list.

War Master Blackhorn, is a strong Tauren.