Blackmoore didn't take this little incident to heart.
Orcs believe in some strange things, and their actions are difficult to predict using common sense; the officers at the Internment Camp have gotten used to it.
Not far away, Anachronos, his face beaming with joy, said:
"My deduction was correct. Look at these Orcs have died so tragically; it proves that Blackmoore has taken Thrall's Destiny."
Rend asked in confusion, "I don't understand. Blackmoore is a human, how could the Orcs mistake him for the Warchief? Does he intend to become the leader of the Orcs in the future?"
Anachronos shook his head and explained, "Thrall's Destiny has shifted to Blackmoore, and he hasn't had time to adjust yet, which is why there's this misunderstanding."
Velen stroked his chin and said, "According to Thrall's story, his mentor was Drek'Thar, the last Shaman of the previous generation of the Horde."
Anachronos chuckled sinisterly, "That's right. As long as we kill Drek'Thar in this world, we can cut off Blackmoore's path to power."
Rend grabbed Thrall: "Useless trash, I'm asking you, where is Drek'Thar hiding?"
Thrall stammered as he replied, "Drek'Thar, along with a small number of the Frostwolf Clan, is living in seclusion in the Alterac Mountains."
Blackmoore entered the Durnholde internment camp and sensed an extremely oppressive atmosphere.
The soldiers were all at their posts, their expressions terrifyingly serious.
Even when the Orcs army invaded, the atmosphere was never this tense.
In the central square of the Internment Camp, officers gathered in a corner, discussing in hushed tones.
Blackmoore noticed that there were about three hundred people gathered in the center of the square, and many of them were sobbing quietly.
The most eye-catching figure was a large, obese man who, due to excessive drinking, had a flushed face, cloudy eyes, and was slumped helplessly on the ground, crying like a child.
The leader of the Internment Camp, General Sandru.
Because she was only dressed casually and was unkempt with her hair down, Blackmoore almost didn't recognize her.
The more than 300 people in the square were all relatives of Sandru.
Since Sandru received this lucrative post, his trusted followers have flocked from all over Lordaeron to take up important positions.
However, they have now been completely wiped out.
"What happened?" Blackmoore asked a familiar Captain.
The Captain glanced around cautiously, then lowered his voice. "Have you ever heard of the Peace Dove?"
Blackmoore nodded. The Peace Dove were a group of bad elements who specialized in causing trouble everywhere. They were said to be King Terenas's spies.
The Captain sighed, "Our Internment Camp enslaves Orcs, for example, by making them mine and cut down trees. The Peace Dove has complained to King Terenas about it."
Blackmoore asked, puzzled:
"A few days ago, King Terenas issued an order to stop supplying food to the Internment Camps, leaving us to solve the Orcs' food problem ourselves. Hillsbrad is sparsely populated, with more Orcs than humans. How are we going to feed them if we don't let them work?"
The Captain said bitterly, "The Peace Dove is a bunch of noble children who think food falls from the sky. They don't care about this at all, and they accuse us of mistreating Orcs."
Blackmoore was dumbfounded. "This, this is outrageous!"
Orcs are unruly and defiant, so beatings and torture are common; otherwise, how could they be made to work obediently?
Can we rely on persuasion?
The Captain sighed, "King Terenas is foolish! He flew into a rage, smashed his beloved crystal staff, and wants to kill General Sandru's entire family."
Although General Sandru held his position without doing any work, he was good at keeping quiet and never bossed people around; he just drank in silence, which earned him the trust of his subordinates.
Blackmoore frowned. "Didn't Uther the Lightbringer step in to plead for him?"
The Captain shrank back, forcing a bitter smile. "Uther said the Orcs are crucial to the future of Azeroth, and he's willing to sacrifice his own people for the greater good."
Blackmoore sighed with regret. With King Terenas treating General Sandru this way, what would become of the Durnholde internment camp?
Dozens of well-dressed aristocratic scions walked in through the gate, their chests emblazoned with the symbol of Peace Dove.
A young man approached Sandru, stepped on his head, and Pride proclaimed, holding up King Terenas's decree:
"General Sandru abused the Orcs. According to incomplete statistics, 307 Orcs died as a result of his cruelty, and more than 1,000 were maimed or injured. His cruelty is appalling, and his plot to destroy Azeroth is unforgivable. King Terenas is merciful and has only allowed Sandru's family to be fed to the Orcs; the rest will be spared. The execution is to proceed immediately."
General Sandru was unable to stand and was being helped along by two soldiers. His relatives were wailing and lamenting that they had suffered misfortune following Sandru.
Blackmoore couldn't bear to witness this tragedy, so he returned to his barracks and stood there silently, lost in thought.
Although he was only a low-ranking officer, he couldn't help but worry about the future of Lordaeron.
With such King, Lordaeron's future is bleak.
Before long, the Captain, who was familiar with Blackmoore, entered the barracks and sat down in front of him.
"General Sandru, he..." Blackmoore's nose tingled, and tears almost welled up in his eyes.
The Captain nodded, covering his face with his hands. "The Peace Dove said that the Durnholde internment camp needs a leader, and qualified officers are drawing lots."
"A lottery? This is absurd!" Blackmoore stared in disbelief.
The Captain shrugged, saying helplessly, "Nobody wants to take this position. Orcs will die whether Orcs suffer or starve. Unless we can conjure up food, death is the only outcome."
"Can't we think of other ways?"
In an instant, Blackmoore had an absurd idea that he would never normally dare to think of.
"Only if we can overthrow King Terenas's rule, replace him, and then kill all the Orcs will Lordaeron have a future."
Overthrowing King Terenas would not be difficult; the entire Kingdom of Lordaeron opposed him and had long harbored resentment. All it would take was a rallying cry, and countless people would respond.
But you must first defeat the Guardian Medivh.
Alterac Mountains.
In the silent Valley, the river flows quietly, with simple buildings scattered along its banks, displaying a distinct Orcs style.
Drek'Thar stood by the river, concentrating his mind to communicate with the elements.
Suddenly, the river churned and turned blood red.
Drek'Thar's eyes widened. A human head floated in the blood-red light. Upon closer inspection, it was indeed his own head.
"Ah!"
Drek'Thar let out a scream, collapsed to the ground, and coughed violently, unable to catch his breath.
He was very old, and due to years of studying elements, he had countless hidden injuries.
He coughed up several mouthfuls of blood, but the river surface had returned to calm, as if nothing had happened.
This is a very bad omen.
Drek'Thar stumbled back into his hut.
His biggest worry was that humans would attack. Logically speaking, the remnants of the Frostwolf Clan lived in seclusion in the deep mountains and never went out, so humans had no reason to send troops to wipe them out.
Drek'Thar took out an ancestral relic, a cracked Frostwolf Clan skull, and began to pray to his ancestors.
The enlightenment from his ancestors had never been so clear; he saw blood staining both sides of the stream, his people lying in pools of blood.
A corpse was hanging on a wooden pole; it was himself.
The corpse suddenly moved, raised its right hand, and pointed in a direction.
Hillsbrad Foothills, Blackmoore's territory.