Jade Forest, Tian Monastery.
Thrall finished his dinner, and a complete Tauren lay on the table, its internal organs gone.
"I heard Garrosh eats fifty Tauren in one sitting," Thrall said, clearly displeased.
Vol'jin put on a fawning expression. "Garrosh only eats the heart and flesh of Tauren."
"Hmph, both are leaders of the Orcs, so why is there such a huge difference?"
Looking out at the dark, overcast sky, Thrall opened the door and walked with his hands behind his back. Vol'jin followed closely behind Thrall and said:
"That idiot Velen failed. Five hundred Orcs scared him into joining Garrosh, and then he was chased by three Blackrock Orcs. He fled Stormwind City with Anduin, even losing his shoes in the process. It seems the Alliance won't get involved in the war against Garrosh."
The war between Thrall and Garrosh was originally an internal conflict among the Orcs, and it was very unwise for them to get involved now.
But Thrall clearly didn't want the Alliance to stand idly by, and sneered, "No problem, I already have the right person. The Alliance will soon become our loyal pawns and cannon fodder, paving my way to Warchief with mountains of corpses and seas of blood."
Vol'jin's expression shifted; unable to fathom Thrall's scheme, he inquired, "Savior Lord, who is the most suitable candidate?"
"Jaina!" Thrall said while picking his teeth.
Vol'jin was stunned. Wasn't Jaina dead? He'd seen her eaten by Thrall. Everyone knew that the Jaina in Dalaran now was an imposter.
Thrall scoffed, "Finding someone to impersonate Jaina isn't difficult. Even in death, Jaina continues to serve the Horde. Any fools who believe in Jaina deserve to die."
Vol'jin exclaimed admiringly, "My Savior, you are truly brilliant!"
Thrall, slightly smug, solemnly announced, "Besides that, we must fundamentally weaken Garrosh. Since the four races of Pandaria have become Garrosh's lackeys, we will eliminate them one by one. The Jinyu, the Hozen, the Pandaren, and the Yaungol —they don't deserve to live. Also, you go to Thunder Bluff immediately."
"Thunder Bluff?" Vol'jin didn't understand.
Thrall said with dissatisfaction, "That Baine has actually invented Meat Cattle, providing Garrosh with a constant supply of rations. This can't go on; we must stop his despicable actions."
Vol'jin lowered his head, pondering a countermeasure. Thrall smiled slyly, "I've already devised a plan. You just need to follow it. Garrosh has a weakness: he's too suspicious."
In fact, Thrall was also very suspicious, which was almost a common problem among Orcs. However, with Garrosh now holding an absolute advantage, Thrall had no choice but to trust him.
Thunder Bluff!
Baine Bloodhoof awoke from a nightmare to find a dozen or so Tauren kneeling respectfully outside the chieftain's tent.
Since Baine became Warchief, he has adopted the Orcs ways of doing things, and Thunder Bluff is no longer the simple and honest Tauren Clans.
The hierarchy is rigid and class system is solidified. The Tauren Chieftain has absolute power and can decide life and death at will. Some people have rebelled before, but unfortunately, Baine is backed by Garrosh, and the rebels have been brutally suppressed.
"Is there something you need?" Baine asked coldly.
"Warchief, something terrible has happened! The Meat Cattle can't stand up!" A Tauren prostrated himself on the ground, trembling as he spoke.
A shadow fell over Baine's face. He grabbed the Tauren was crawling on the ground, dragged him to the edge of Thunder Bluff, and threw him off.
Amidst the Tauren's screams, Baine waved his hand and said, "Come with me to see."
As the war intensified, the Tauren also worked hard, and based on the snowflake beef, and taking into account the Jinyu's frenzied reproduction, they bred Meat Cattle.
Meat Cattle are the product of magic; each litter contains at least five cattle, the gestation period is only one week, and they grow into adult cattle in three months.
However, it has low intelligence, almost zero fighting ability, and an extremely delicious taste, even better than snowflake beef.
They're just food for Orcs anyway; their intelligence and combat ability are negligible.
Baine headed to the breeding base in Mulgore, asking with concern along the way, "How many Meat Cattle can you produce in a month?"
The subordinate, feeling extremely cautious, replied, "Seven thousand head of Meat Cattle a month."
Baine's eyes widened. "That's far from enough. Warchief Garrosh led hundreds of thousands of Orcs in a bloody battle on the front lines, repeatedly annihilating the enemies that destroyed Azeroth. We tauren must also show our sincerity and reward the Orcs with our own flesh and blood. For the sake of Azeroth, all Tauren must be prepared to sacrifice themselves at any time."
"Yes, yes, the chief is right."
Baine continued, "You should learn from Warchief Garrosh, his benevolence, kindness, noble character, and indomitable fighting spirit. You should also learn the excellent qualities of the other Orcs, their understanding, their selflessness, and their spirit of Consecration."
Under Baine's incessant lecturing, the group arrived at the Meat Cattle breeding base.
A total of 5,000 head of Meat Cattle are ready to be sent to Orgrimmar. This is a one-month quota, and according to the rules, Baine must personally escort them.
Now, an unexpected situation has occurred: more than half of the Meat Cattle are unable to stand up, and are on all fours, mooing like cows.
Except for the fact that its upper limbs are not hooves, it is no different from a cow.
You see, the Orcs need Tauren, not cows. How can this be explained to Orcs?
Baine was furious. He grabbed the head of the breeding base, punched him to the ground, and then stomped on him repeatedly with his War Stomp.
Only after the bull was trampled into a bloody pulp did Baine, barely containing his rage, roar:
"A bunch of useless trash! The Orcs are fighting bravely on the front lines, shedding blood and sacrificing themselves to protect Azeroth, and you can't even do this simple thing right? You have failed the Warchief's expectations."
Having vented his anger, Baine had no choice but to set off as soon as possible, as the day for handing over military rations was approaching. Baine couldn't afford to be late.
Baine had no choice but to lead five thousand Tauren on their journey to Orgrimmar.
Baine waited outside the General Logistics Department in Orgrimmar for five days and five nights, afraid to sleep, eat, or even drink water.
The Orcs in the logistics department finally finished the handover. One of Orcs yawned as he walked out the door, glancing sideways at Baine:
"Tauren Chieftain, do you realize your mistake?"
Baine was uneasy and trembling with fear, but secretly he was relieved.
The gifts had already been delivered, but the logistics officials were playing cards and didn't check whether the Meat Cattle were up to standard before sending them directly to the Slaughterhouse.
"I know I was wrong," Baine said, trembling with fear.
The Orcs punched Baine in the face and then knocked him to the ground.
Baine dared not resist; he couldn't even protect his head and face with his arms. He could only lie obediently on the ground and take the beating.
"You stupid Tauren, you made me lose money! How could you be so stupid, you piece of trash, you piece of trash!"
The Orcs punched and kicked Baine until his head and face were covered in blood, and only stopped when he was tired.
"Get lost, you stupid ox."
Torture Baine once a month is a source of amusement for the logistics officers.
Baine was relieved to have successfully overcome another hurdle, and limped off with a forced smile as he bid farewell to the officials.
All of this was observed by Vol'jin's informants.