Garrosh's head was about to explode; he looked at the skinny Orcs in front of him with disdain.
Geromi was extremely thin, with only a layer of skin covering his bones and almost no muscle visible.
How could he possibly be Grom Hellscream? How could he possibly be worthy of such a great name?
Garrosh cautiously suggested, "Warchief, I think this name is somewhat inappropriate."
Grimak frowned slightly and asked, clearly displeased, "What's wrong?"
Garrosh replied, "Grom is a homonym for Grommash, which means giant in Orcish. Geromi is too thin for his name."
Grimak stood on the high balcony and suddenly took a step forward.
The obese body leaped off the balcony, landing as lightly as a falling leaf, and coldly sneered as it looked Garrosh up and down.
Garrosh is considered tall among Orcs, but compared to the towering Ogres, he appears as small as a Gnome.
"Look at you Orcs, you're just a bunch of malnourished bean sprouts."
Grimak clutched his stomach and sneered:
"Although Geromi is small, if he receives a Gronn's heart like you, he will be the strongest Orcs."
Garrosh was secretly astonished, and at the same time, his heart skipped a beat.
Having lived a life of luxury and privilege for so many years, wielding immense power and influence, they have almost forgotten their frail body and the bullying they suffered as children.
If it weren't for the mysterious person helping him transplant a Gronn Heart, Garrosh probably wouldn't be alive today, given the Orcs society's rule of respecting the strong.
Transplanting a Gronn's heart is no easy feat. Magic is far more advanced in Azeroth than in Draenor, but unfortunately, Garrosh had never heard of such a technique.
Could that mysterious man be the Ogre Grimak before us, or one of his companions?
A storm raged within Garrosh, accompanied by boundless fear.
Grimak stared intently at Garrosh with his small eyes, clearly saying, "I know everything about you."
The Gronn Heart is Garrosh's everything, far more important than the Warchief's position. Now, ownership of this heart is in Grimak's hands, and he can take it back at any time.
Garrosh, having lost all will to resist, resigned himself to his fate and knelt on the ground.
"I will obey the Warchief's decree."
Grimak grinned. "Excellent, Garrosh. From this day forward, Grom Hellscream is the chieftain of the Warsong Clan. You and I have an even more important mission. To accomplish that great plan, the Warsong Clan alone is not enough; I need more Orcs to participate."
Pandaria, Kun-Lai Summit, Temple of the White Tiger.
Almost all of the Dragonmaw Clan who invaded the Temple of the White Tiger died by self-destruction. Interestingly, the Dragonmaw Clan chief Zaela, was captured alive.
Following the initial chaos at Temple of the White Tiger, elite forces from the Alliance and Horde leaders responded swiftly.
The Court Mages of Stormwind City cast a spell to No-Fly, and the elite royal guards of Undercity raised their bows.
Zaela immediately and wisely raised her hands in surrender. Although she had encouraged the Dragonmaw Clan's assassins to give their lives for Warchief Garrosh, she would not be foolish enough to do the same when it came to herself.
The chaos at the Temple of the White Tiger quickly subsided, with many Pandaren dying, but the most unacceptable thing was that Garrosh had escaped.
Thrall was furious and rushed over, slapping Zaela across the face.
Zaela's right cheek was swollen high, revealing a tooth as she stared at Thrall with disdain and a playful smile.
Vol'jin's rage was far greater than Thrall's.
Garrosh's escape means that Vol'jin's position as Warchief could be overthrown at any moment. After scheming for so long, how could Vol'jin be willing to accept this?
Vol'jin intended to vent all his anger on Zaela.
"Zaela, I know you're Garrosh's woman. I've heard Garrosh ate your parents and your brothers and sisters."
Zaela shook her head and sneered, "You want to sow discord between me and the Warchief? What wishful thinking! I love my parents and get along well with my brothers and sisters, but in my heart, how can they compare to Warchief Garrosh? They're just fireflies trying to outshine the sun and moon."
Vol'jin gritted his teeth, his expression contorted in rage, and said:
"Wow, that's wonderful, little Orcs. I'll extract your soul, turn your stinking body into a voodoo doll, put it in a small bottle and hang it on my fangs, and then put your soul back in. I can't do it alone, and I think the Dark Lady would be happy to help. You will suffer day and night, your painful screams constantly comforting my soul."
Zaela's face changed drastically, and she said in horror, "You can't do this, kill me!"
Vol'jin sneered, "You let Garrosh go, so you'll suffer in his place. Love can be very painful, little Orcs."
Zaela was on the verge of tears, when suddenly she remembered something and glared angrily at Thrall:
"Thrall, you have to save me. Don't forget you slept with me."
Zaela is the most beautiful woman in the Warsong Clan, with an exceptional figure and temperament, and her beauty is widely renowned. She caught Thrall's attention in her early years.
Thrall said innocently, "But I didn't do anything."
Zaela retorted arrogantly, "Thrall, do you expect me to reveal your secrets? I've always kept my mouth shut; even Garrosh doesn't know."
Thrall looked embarrassed. Although he wasn't afraid of criticism, there were some private secrets he didn't want to be revealed.
"Vol'jin, let's stop here," Thrall said earnestly.
Vol'jin hesitated for a moment. The chief villain Garrosh had already escaped, that was a given. How to execute Zaela was not important; Vol'jin could swallow his anger.
The Bronze Dragonflight Chromie broke free of the Anti-Magic Cage, surveyed the leaders of the Alliance and the Horde, and said with considerable sarcasm:
"Is this the result you wanted? Garrosh escaped, are you satisfied now? Let me tell you frankly, Kairoz's rescue of Garrosh is not just about one Orcs escaping; it means rivers of blood, mountains of corpses, and even the destruction of Azeroth. You are all accomplices."
Sylvanas retorted, "Shouldn't the Bronze Dragonflight be held responsible for this?"
Chromie replied expressionlessly, "After Nozdormu's disappearance, the Bronze Dragonflight was leaderless and fragmented. Apart from Kairoz himself, no one in the Bronze Dragonflight is responsible for this."
King Varian said indifferently:
"I don't think it's a big deal. As long as we keep pursuing them, we'll find Garrosh soon. Chromie, will the Caverns of Time provide Garrosh with Orcs soldiers?"
"Not for now, unless he resumes his position as Warchief."
Chromie glanced at Vol'jin, who was secretly relieved.
"We only recognize the Orcs Warchief and will not hand over Orcs soldiers to other races."
Vol'jin shrugged. "It's alright. I don't like Orcs. Oh, sorry, Thrall, that doesn't include you."
Thrall simply smiled and remained silent.
Sylvanas remained nonchalant. "Kairoz took Garrosh away. Whatever his plans are, he needs time to prepare. We just need to find them as soon as possible. I suggest activating the power of the Ley Line. The Ley Line covers all of Azeroth; finding someone shouldn't be difficult."
Chromie shook her head. "The Blue Dragonflight won't agree. Kalecgos is a cheapskate."
Everyone realized that Garrosh's escape wasn't a big deal, and even Thrall and Vol'jin's expressions gradually relaxed, especially Thrall, who openly flirted with Zaela.
A mysterious vortex suddenly appeared in the sky above Temple of the White Tiger, and a figure fell down.