The Orcs, having eaten and drunk their fill, thundered towards Hearthglen.
The people of Hearthglen were unprepared; this was destined to be a horrific massacre.
Thrall, riding his towering Worg, lashed his whip at Worg old dog Grommash Hellscream beneath it, and said smugly to the silent Uther beside him:
"Do you know why the Guardians chose us Orcs? It's not just because we Orcs are brave and skilled in battle. Draenor World is simple and straightforward: it's either eat others or be eaten. That's the law of nature. Whether we eat or be eaten, we Orcs are mentally prepared and will never be cowardly. And look at you Silver Hand, a bunch of cowardly Imp."
Uther quickly flattered, "How could the Silver Hand possibly compare to the great Orcs Legion?"
Thrall was extremely pleased with himself, laughing heartily. Gazing at the majestic and powerful Orcs Legion, Thrall felt elated, believing he could do whatever he wanted. He specifically summoned Saurfang the Great:
"Saurfang, Barthilas is in your hands now. Use your best tactics—sneak attacks. Remember, after the attack, always add: 'I apologize for that dishonorable blow.' We Orcs must know how to be humble and cautious. You are the symbol of our Orcs honor. How you act is not important, but what you say must be eloquent."
Saurfang smiled slyly, "Leave it all to me. Rest assured, Savior, there is no human being I, Saurfang, cannot ambush."
Thrall nodded in satisfaction and proudly boasted to Tirion Fordring:
"With such valiant generals and such a powerful Legion, we Orcs are destined to eliminate humans and seize this fertile land. The extermination of inferior races by superior ones is an inevitable historical trend, an unstoppable force."
The Castle in Hearthglen had only a low wall around it. When the Orcs Legion attacked, the Castle gates were wide open, and the courtyard was empty. There were no soldiers, and not even any civilians cheering them on.
Barthilas, dressed in casual clothes, stood alone at the city gate, his face as calm as a statue.
Behind him, on wooden scaffolding, hung an old Orcs, Eitrigg. His eyes were vacant, and he could barely stand. The horrific wound on his shoulder had stopped bleeding, revealing a dried, black color.
Thrall didn't take Barthilas seriously. A mere Paladin wasn't worthy of speaking to someone of Thrall's stature. He turned to Uther beside him and sneered:
"Look at these cruel humans! How dare they treat us noble Orcs like this! These despicable humans have brought us war and suffering, murdering many of the people we cherish, without feeling any remorse or guilt whatsoever."
"Uther, to us Orcs, this is a complete insult. Let me tell you a secret: when King Terenas established the Orcs internment camp, all the Orcs gritted their teeth and secretly swore in their hearts that they would tear the old King to pieces. Restricting our freedom is a great insult to the noble Orcs."
"This wish has finally been fulfilled by me, Thrall. The exhilaration of killing the King, the cathartic feeling of blood for blood, still flows in my heart. Heh, Hearthglen only has one person defending it. Is this a voluntary suicide, or is it contempt for our Orcs army?"
Traditionally, only one person from the opposing team appears, which clearly indicates a request for a one-on-one duel.
For both sides, the duel is a matter of dignity.
"The Worg and wearing black plate Orcs, you must be Thrall, the self-proclaimed Savior. Are you willing to fight for honor?" Barthilas's voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear.
However, Thrall was an Orcs did not follow tradition.
"You're not worthy!" Thrall whispered, then roared.
"Warriors, charge! Crush him!"
A dozen Orcs roared and charged at the thin and frail Barthilas, swinging their Battle Axes.
Barthilas looked at Thrall with some surprise. "I see. Someone told me that Orcs are a race that constantly talks about honor, but is the one that despises honor the most. I didn't believe it at first, but now that I've seen it with my own eyes, it's true."
"Hahaha, you idiot humans, history is always written by the victors."
As the Orcs charged closer, Barthilas remained calm. His figure suddenly vanished, and several of his Battle Axes missed their mark, leaving the Orcs at the forefront completely bewildered.
An Orcs looked at his chest, where there was a huge bloody hole, and his heart was gone.
The Orcs, now heartless, looked terrified. He tried to say something, but his strength gave out, and he slowly collapsed to the ground, his face frozen in horror.
"I'm picky. I've become picky after eating too much Orcs flesh." Barthilas held a still-beating heart in his hand, slowly bringing it to his mouth and chewing it carefully.
Uther was stunned, nearly falling off his horse, while Thrall was simply paralyzed with fear.
Last night, Uther was so busy scolding Tirion Fordring and spouting nonsensical platitudes that he didn't bother to find out more about Barthilas' situation. Witnessing this horrific scene firsthand sent chills down Uther's spine.
"Wait, what's going on?" Thrall gasped, then roared again, "Invincible Orcs Warriors, summon your courage and kill him!"
Dozens of Orcs Warriors launched an attack on Barthilas, and the same scenario repeated itself: Barthilas vanished from the spot once again, and an Orcs lost his heart.
"What... what kind of power is this?"
Even Thrall seemed flustered, his roars becoming much quieter:
"Warriors, kill him!"
The Orcs were clearly hesitant, but finally a dozen or Orcs mustered their courage and let out a piercing roar. They went into a berserk state, their bloodshot eyes turning blood red, and charged towards Barthilas.
The scene repeated itself: Barthilas vanished on the spot, and an Orcs had his heart ripped out.
Barthilas carefully chewed on the Orcs's heart, not wasting a single drop.
"No, no, this is absolutely impossible." Thrall felt a chill run through his body, a coldness rising in his heart.
"Invincible Warriors"
The remaining Orcs were clearly retreating, ignoring even Thrall's orders.
Barthilas killed only three Orcs, but he intimidated a full six hundred Orcs.
Seeing the Orcs' cowardly behavior, Barthilas was slightly surprised, and smiled gently, as refined as a nobleman who had just woken from an afternoon nap:
"I see. Someone told me that Orcs are also afraid of death, and that you too can be controlled by fear. I didn't believe it at first; I thought you were fearless. Now that I've seen it with my own eyes, it's true."
"You!"
Thrall felt insulted, so he pulled out a Rage Potion and threw it at the Orcs closest to Barthilas.
Affected by the Rage Potion, more than a dozen Orcs entered a berserk state one after another, roaring as they charged towards Barthilas.
Barthilas repeated his actions from before, only this time, he held two hearts in his hands.
"Thrall, I've discovered a secret: Orcs hearts taste better after they've gone berserk."
Barthilas seemed to be enjoying his meal, and said to Thrall with a smile.
"Then you can eat your fill." Thrall had his own judgment; he felt that Barthilas's mysterious power must have some kind of limitation and couldn't be used without restriction.
Dozens of bottles of Rage Potions were thrown out.
But this time, even the Rage Potion didn't work.