This was a huge open-air bath, where more than two hundred Orcs were soaking in the warm water, limp and drowsy.
The Orcs officer in charge of welcoming them walked in, grinning maliciously as if he were looking at a group of pigs waiting to be slaughtered.
A large group of Orcs emerged from behind, Proficiency carrying the unconscious Orcs into a basement.
Seeing all this through the telescope, Nazgrim felt a chill run down his spine:
What will happen to them?
Eitrigg squinted and said, "Use your imagination, guess with the most wicked thoughts, and that will be the answer."
Nazgrim pondered deeply, "Will they be sold into slavery? Or become gladiators?"
Eitrigg shook his head. "Who in the Eastern Kingdoms can handle over 100,000 slaves?"
"Sent into dark mines? Toiling day and night?" Nazgrim let his imagination run wild.
Eitrigg sighed regretfully, "You're too kind. The world is cruel. Let me remind you, thousands of wandering Orcs join this camp every day, and only a handful survive."
"Were they sent back to Draenor?" Reason compelled Nazgrim to avoid that terrible answer.
Eitrigg continued to shake his head.
Not long after, Scarface and the Shaman emerged from the basement, now dressed in clean clothes.
The two men looked extremely pale, as if they had witnessed the most terrible tragedy, and knelt on the ground, kowtowing repeatedly to the officer.
Eitrigg whispered, "Thrall will leave behind some Elites to replenish his forces and train them into loyal henchmen."
Nazgrim's body trembled uncontrollably as he forced out the words through clenched teeth:
"The rest were all eaten, right?"
Eitrigg sighed and nodded sadly:
"I don't know where this Thrall came from. Hundreds of thousands of Orcs just vanished like that, turned into Tough Jerky while still alive. What Terenas couldn't do, an Orcs accomplished. It's truly ironic."
Nazgrim's eyes were bloodshot, and tears of blood streamed from his eyes.
"What wrong have we Orcs done to deserve such terrible suffering?"
Eitrigg murmured, "That's how the Orcs treated the Draenei and humans back then. Kill one, die; kill a thousand, become a hero; kill ten thousand, become a chieftain; kill a hundred thousand, become Warchief; kill a million, become a great Savior. Which of the Orcs orc chieftains didn't have blood on their hands?"
"If we don't stop them, the Orcs may be wiped out." Nazgrim bit his lip hard.
A flash of smugness crossed Eitrigg's eyes, but he straightened his face and said seriously:
"Thrall's forces number around two thousand, all of them battle-hardened, ruthless killers, possessing terrifying combat power."
"Why not expose Thrall's crimes to the public?" Nazgrim asked through gritted teeth.
Eitrigg shook his head. "I tried, but nobody believed me. Thrall's propaganda was excellent; he established the Savior from the outset. My methods are no match for his."
"We must do something." Nazgrim took a deep breath.
Eitrigg said in a distressed tone:
"If the Lich King Terenas were willing to intervene, the Undead Orcs could easily defeat Thrall. However, the various races of the Eastern Kingdoms recently formed a coalition and are eyeing Lordaeron covetously, so Terenas dares not act rashly. But it's not without a solution. If Thrall is defeated in the name of the wandering Orcs, it won't arouse suspicion from the other races."
Nazgrim asked persistently, "How many Orcs are in the Home of the Orcs?"
Eitrigg replied, "There are 20,000 Orcs in total. I can give you command of the 5,000 most elite among them, but unfortunately, they usually eat flatbread, while Thrall's men eat meat. No matter how many sheep there are, they cannot defeat a pack of the Frostwolf Clan."
Nazgrim sat on the ground, clutching his hair tightly. How could a natural-born general not understand this principle?
Five thousand Orcs attacking Thrall's camp will likely only send him more Tough Jerky.
Nazgrim pondered deeply, muttering to himself, "There must be a way, there must be a way."
Eitrigg crouched down beside Nazgrim: "I do have an idea, but I don't know if you'd be willing to do it."
"I'll agree to anything as long as we can defeat Thrall."
Eitrigg earnestly advised, "To defeat Thrall, you must become even more ruthless than him. Thrall relies on a constant stream of wandering Orcs to survive."
Nazgrim seemed to see a glimmer of hope, his eyes lighting up as he said:
"As long as we stop the wandering Orcs and wait for Thrall to finish his Tough Jerky, we can easily win."
Eitrigg cautioned, "Although the wandering Orcs are a disorganized bunch, they all believe Thrall is the Savior and think this is a wonderful Pantheon."
"Therefore, necessary measures must be taken. Those who refuse to listen to advice should be killed without mercy. Rather than turning them into Thrall's Tough Jerky, it's better to let my subordinates eat meat," Nazgrim said viciously.
Eitrigg nodded in satisfaction. "For the continuation of the Orcs race, some things need to be done."
Nazgrim's eyes shone brightly, his gaze as deep and unfathomable as a still pool. "I will shoulder this terrible burden."
Under Nazgrim's command, five thousand Orcs blocked all the roads leading from Tirisfal Glades to Silverpine Forest.
The wandering Orcs looked up at Thrall were all kept outside Silverpine Forest.
Some obediently retreated, while others, being unruly, were captured and sent to the Home of the Orcs. The most stubborn were turned into Tough Jerky.
Eitrigg played a clever trick, portraying it as a conflict among wandering Orcs, unrelated to the Kingdom of Lordaeron.
Thrall was surprised to find that no wandering Orcs had come to visit him for several days in a row.
Having slaughtered over 100,000 Orcs, they have a considerable reserve of Tough Jerky.
Thrall knew he couldn't put all his eggs in one basket, so he hid the Tough Jerky in batches throughout Lordaeron, and there wasn't much Tough Jerky in the camp.
After sending out several scouts to investigate, Thrall learned that it was Nazgrim who was behind it all.
"Nazgrim, you've become a huge problem on the Timeways."
Two thousand Orcs poured out, Thrall preparing to defeat Nazgrim in one fell swoop.
The two sides met at the border between Tirisfal Glades and Silverpine Forest.
Nazgrim was a natural-born general; he quickly built his own team, and the officers trusted him.
In an attempt to defeat Thrall, Nazgrim adopted an unusually complex formation, trying to win by relying on its tactical setup.
Thrall's tactics were much simpler: two thousand Orcs formed a Charge formation and charged straight at Nazgrim's main force.
Thrall's soldiers displayed formidable fighting prowess; with just one Charge, Nazgrim's main force was on the verge of collapse.
Nazgrim hurriedly directed the two flanks to Battlefield from the side, causing some minor trouble for Thrall. Unfortunately, the tide had turned, and the main force collapsed in an instant.
Less than half an hour into the battle, Nazgrim's army collapsed and scattered in all directions.
Ignoring everyone else, Thrall kept his eyes glued to Nazgrim's banner and relentlessly pursued him.
Nazgrim led the remaining troops into a narrow Valley. Thrall observed the terrain of the Valley, anticipated an ambush, and hesitated to advance.
A handsome young Orcs officer with rosy lips and white teeth advised:
"Warchief, Nazgrim only has five thousand Orcs, and he has just sent them all out. Besides, with this rabble, even an ambush would be useless."
Thrall was inspired, feeling his blood boil and his confidence soar.
"Not bad, just a bunch of wandering Orcs, what's there to fear? Charge with me!"