Warlord Hannibal's eyelids twitched, and he roared furiously:
"You chose that mutated Orcs. What's his name? What makes him more qualified than me to be the Warchief?"
"Because he gained the approval of the Fire Elementals of Draenor."
The Destroyer Dov shouted:
"The Lava contains precious gems that I cherish, but your efficiency is too low. Remember, our relationship is not one of cooperation, but rather a favor I bestow upon you."
Hannibal smiled wryly. "Looks like I should thank you, Dover. At least you gave me a chance to escape."
As night fell, the sky over the Blackrock Mine was gloomy, and Hannibal's mood was equally oppressive.
He had a Wealth stored in the Highmaul Bank of the Gorian Empire, enough to live a wealthy life for the rest of his days.
But will the new chief let him go?
Moreover, the father's suffering cannot be left unresolved, and the Blackrock Clan's misery cannot end here.
The Orcs has gained the Fire Elementals's approval must inherit my will.
Hannibal's eyes lit up; the old setup could now be put into use.
Challenging Warlord Hannibal and becoming the new chieftain of the Blackrock Clan was Blackhand's only way out, and the Flame in his chest burned ever hotter.
The Invincible Warlord Hannibal was an obstacle that had to be overcome, and Blackhand was not confident in his ability to do so, since Warlord Hannibal's status was already deeply ingrained in people's minds.
Along the way, the other Blackrock Orcs kept their distance, not daring to antagonize them.
Blackhand went straight to the Blackrock Mine, searching for Hannibal's figure in the darkness.
The miners stopped working and squatted at a distance to watch the spectacle.
Blackhand was not yet able to skillfully control the Flames within his body, making him stand out like a human torch.
Suddenly, a bright light burst forth, and Warlord Hannibal stood on an elevator, looking down at Blackhand, with the fearsome warhammer beside him.
Hannibal looked at Blackhand with a smile, appreciating him as a senior to a junior.
"Orcs, what's your name?"
"Blackhand!"
"After so many years, the Blackrock Clan has finally produced another talented individual."
Hannibal said with satisfaction, brushing the dust off his clothes, then said with a sense of loss:
"I am old. Consecration my life to the Blackrock Clan, working tirelessly to transform it from an impoverished and barbaric Blackrock Clan into Clans foremost Orcs Clans in Draenor. We arm ourselves with steel, and no one can rival us. Today in Draenor, everyone speaks highly of the Blackrock Clan."
The Blackrock Clan present whispered among themselves.
Although most of the Blackrock Clan's Orcs died of exhaustion before the age of thirty, although countless Orcs skeletons were buried deep in the dark mines, and although the ashes of countless Orcs were in the furnace ash of the Blackrock Foundry.
But as long as you can be praised and respected, all the effort is worthwhile.
Orcs, with their simple minds, struggle to grasp complex matters, and Hannibal's words surprisingly won the approval of most of Orcs.
Among them was Orgrimmar, an old friend of Blackhand.
It seems that working hard all day long and exhausting oneself to death is an incredibly proud thing.
Blackhand didn't quite understand what Hannibal was going to do, but then he heard Hannibal say with a somber expression:
"I have always worried that if I die, who will be qualified to lead the great Blackrock Clan? The Blackrock Clan has reached its zenith under my leadership, and that glory cannot end here. A new Orcs is needed to lead the Blackrock Clan and continue the struggle. Blackhand, you have gained the approval of the Fire Elementals of Draenor; this is destiny. I am old. Although my swordsmanship Invincible, it cannot withstand the erosion of time. Although I could kill you with a single move, I cannot bear to do so, I cannot bear to extinguish the hope of the Blackrock Clan."
Blackhand gazed at the bottomless Blackrock Mine, not forgetting Hannibal's heroic feat of splitting a mountain in two with his sword, but his imposing manner had diminished considerably.
Blademaster Hannibal, the Sword Saint, the greatest orc Orcs.
Hannibal stood tall and slowly extended his right hand:
"Blackhand, are you willing to carry on my legacy? Over the years, I've misjudged many people, but thankfully, I've corrected my mistakes one by one."
Blackhand realized the hidden threat in the words, and looking at the proud miners around him, he finally understood what the trend of the times and the will of the people meant.
"I do!" Blackhand knelt on the ground.
Hannibal smiled and said, "I sense your determination, my good boy. The Blackrock Clan will surely flourish under your leadership. You are the hand that guides the Blackrock Clan forward. I bestow upon you a new surname: Blackhand."
For Orcs, acquiring a surname is an honor, signifying their entry into the aristocratic class.
Witnessing the smooth transfer of power within the Blackrock Clan, the miners couldn't help but get excited and spontaneously shouted the name of Blackhand.
Hannibal waved his hand, and the shouts gradually subsided. Hannibal's gaze was deep.
"To die on the battlefield is an honor for Orcs, but unfortunately, I was already Invincible in Draenor at the tender age of thirty. The only one who can kill me is myself."
Taking a few steps forward, Hannibal raised his voice:
"Blackhand, remember your promise today, or a Sharp Sword will rise from the depths of Blackrock Mine and take your head."
Before he could finish speaking, Hannibal's body fell into the bottomless, dark mine pit, where he remained motionless for a long time.
Blackhand knelt on the ground for a long time, still unable to believe his good fortune; the Warlord Hannibal had actually voluntarily relinquished the position of Warchief.
It all felt like a dream.
As the platform slowly descended, Blackhand saw the warhammer that symbolized power.
The massive warhammer was incredibly heavy, Blackhand managed to lift it. Facing the cheering crowd that was about to surround him, Blackhand shouted:
"Go back to work."
Late at night, Blackhand summoned his most trusted old friend Orgrimmar, and said with a frown:
"Orgrimmar, you've always been resourceful. Could you give me some advice? How should I rule the Blackrock Clan?"
Orgrimmar pondered for a long time before saying:
"My advice is to maintain the status quo. The Blackrock Orcs are already accustomed to hard work; it's a deeply ingrained habit. Don't think that giving them rest will earn you gratitude. Human nature is complex. Neither the Blackrock Foundry nor the Blackrock Mines can be abandoned, or you will become a historical sinner of the Blackrock Clan."
Blackhand thought about it carefully, then nodded and said:
"Perhaps you're right, only the most brutal rule suits Orcs."
Orgrimmar chuckled and said, "Of course, it won't be so hard for you and me. Why don't we find some female Orcs to have some fun?"
Bang! Bang!
A series of knocks came from the door. Orgrimmar opened the door, and a creature covered in thick scales, as big as a wheel, rolled into the room.
This is an Iguana People, a small, burrowing creature similar to a pangolin. They have multiplied and are accustomed to currying favor with powerful beings for protection.
The Iguana People stretched out his body and stared at Blackhand, saying:
"The new chieftain of the Blackrock Clan, Destroyer Dov, requests your presence: you, being wise, should know who the true King of Gorgrond is."