Mar'gok breathed a sigh of relief, "We've met Thrall, shouldn't we end this boring journey? I've had enough of the stench coming from the Internment Camp."
"That's not enough," Anachronos said sternly. "What we need to see is Thrall, the King of the Clans, not this skinny Orcs before us, even though his features resemble Thrall's."
"Are you worried about unforeseen circumstances?" Khadgar nodded. "I agree. To be on the safe side, I suggest we wait for him to grow stronger, until he liberates the Orcs of Durnholde."
Velen shrank back dejectedly. "Hey, have you ever heard of the Dreadlord's False Heart?"
"Huh?"
All eyes turned to him.
Velen said seriously:
"The great bat of the Burning Legion, the Dreadlord who spews nothing but falsehoods, needs to transform into the appearance of another race during his growth process. Then, he makes a friend among that race, and their friendship lasts for ten, twenty, or even a hundred years. Finally, he personally digs out his best friend's heart and forges it into a magical artifact. This is the Dreadlord's False Heart."
Anachronos asked doubtfully, "You mean Aiguleiya is a Dreadlord in disguise? That's impossible; he can't hide it from Medivh."
Velen shook his head. "No, no, I mean he's very much to the Dreadlord's liking."
Thrall's collusion with the Burning Legion is no secret.
Truly powerful figures are adept at playing both sides. Betraying Azeroth would be an unforgivable crime for an ordinary person, but for powerful figures, it's commonplace.
Anachronos understood Velen's intentions. "You want us to help Aiguleiya make contact with the Burning Legion and become the true Thrall? I'll say it again, time travel is complicated, it's best not to interfere. We just need to stay on the sidelines and observe."
In the audience, Kael'thas clapped his hands and exclaimed, "Haha, haha, this is so funny! Jaina should see this; this is the kind of Orcs she admires!"
Not far away, Jaina from the future stared at Aiguleiya in the arena and said to the Water Elemental beside her, "Watermodo, it seems you've helped Thrall."
Watermodo muttered to himself, "My mission isn't finished yet."
"You don't need to do anything," Jaina interrupted him coldly. "Growth comes at a price, and since he really is Thrall, he should be able to pull through."
Aiguleiya's victory was utterly disgraceful, and the three Kings refused to award him the title of Champion Gladiator.
Blackmoore gave a few words of farewell, but they were all empty platitudes, and that was the end of the gladiatorial contest.
Aiguleiya soon realized he was all alone, and in the ensuing panic, the Greatsword of the Brotherhood disappeared.
Standing at the entrance to the Durnholde Orcs Arena, Aiguleiya felt as if he were in a dream, looking around in a daze.
He gained the freedom he had always dreamed of, but it wasn't enough.
He liberated tens of thousands of Orcs in Durnholde, became Orcs leader and Clans king—all of which should have belonged to Ashkandi, but had nothing to do with him.
"But I defeated Ashkandi; I am stronger than him."
Aiguleiya felt it was very unfair. Why was everything arranged for Ashkandi, while it all vanished when it was his turn?
Wandering aimlessly along the road, Aiguleiya saw a group of chained Orcs being led by human soldiers to a nearby mine.
One of the Orcs turned his head, a look of surprise on his face, and stared intently into Aiguleiya's eyes.
The Orcs suddenly let out a deafening roar, twisted the chains with all his might, and rolled several times on the ground as he approached Aiguleiya.
"You are the son of Durotan!" the Orcs shouted, opening his mouth wide.
"Who is Durotan?" Aiguleiya asked, puzzled, as he knew very little about Orcs history.
"Great Frostwolf Clan Chieftain, Durotan, master of Bai Lang, that is your father, and you will inherit everything from him."
The Orcs shouted desperately, and the human soldiers grabbed him and whipped him violently.
"Remember, you are the son of Durotan." The Orcs quickly yielded and put his chains back on.
Aiguleiya understood; this was a plan specifically targeting Ashkandi, designed to help him gain a prestigious birth.
Originally, twelve Orcs pledged their lives as proof, but now they can't even bear to part with the life of one Orcs.
Aiguleiya smiled bitterly, a chill running through her heart, feeling that the world was incredibly unfair.
No one paid him any attention; he wandered around like a ghost.
It was getting late, Aiguleiya was starving. Unfortunately, she had no experience in wilderness survival and couldn't find any food.
Just as he was in despair and confusion, an Orcs wearing a fur coat emerged from behind the tree and sized up the thin Aiguleiya.
"Are you the famous gladiator champion?" the Orcs asked.
"I am!" Aiguleiya declared proudly. It was clear that the Orcs before him was free, not a slave in Internment Camp.
"Please follow me, a very important person wants to see you." The Orcs led the way.
Aiguleiya hesitated for a moment, then followed.
The Orcs said as he walked, "Orcs are free, proud, and most importantly, united. We need a leader."
Aiguleiya's heart pounded. Were these Orcs going to acknowledge him as their leader?
The Gladiator Champion, son of Durotan, deserves this honor.
Deep in the woods, a campfire blazed brightly, around which sat more than twenty Orcs.
The leader was a Pride stranger, clad entirely in black plate armor with gleaming brass trim, and a terrifying warhammer lay beside him.
The stranger looked up and asked, "Do you recognize me?"
In the firelight, the strange Orcs's face was clearly visible, but Aiguleiya shook his head, indicating that he did not recognize him.
"It's very troublesome, you know?"
The strange Orcs stood up, stretched his arms, and shouted:
"I came here for Ashkandi, to see if he was worthy of being my right-hand man. You killed him, proving your competence. I greatly admire you."
Are they just his left and right arms? Aiguleiya was not satisfied with this arrangement and secretly complained to himself.
"But you don't even know who I am! You've committed a grave error, offending a great chieftain. Even if you were truly Durotan's son, it wouldn't be forgivable, let alone a fake!" The strange Orcs's face twisted in a grimace as he grabbed the warhammer from the ground and roared.
"Hey brat, come on, let's see if you can beat me. If you win, I'll do whatever you say."
Aiguleiya was terrified; fighting was not his forte, and he desperately wanted to turn and run away.
The Orcs around the campfire moved closer and surrounded him and the strange Orcs.
"You're not even using a weapon? You've offended a Warchief once again." The strange Orcs's warhammer came crashing down on his face.
Aiguleiya barely managed to dodge, but the warhammer struck his right shoulder with a cracking sound, and he could no longer lift his right arm.
"Don't kill me, please," Aiguleiya pleaded, her legs giving way as she knelt on the ground.
The strange Orcs didn't let him go, smashing another hammer blow into his knee.
Aiguleiya couldn't stand up; she trembled like a fish out of water.
The strange Orcs, wielding a warhammer, slowly crushed his fingers.
Aiguleiya howled and begged for mercy, while the strange Orcs's eyes were filled with mockery.
"Son of Durotan, remember, my name is Orgrim Doomhammer."