Sagulos Saurfang, the Orcs Warrior determined to take his father's place, has finally made his move.
He originally called himself the Wind Blademaster and used a sharp two-handed greatsword.
In order to replace his father, Saurfang the Great, and to play the role more convincingly, he had to take up his father's Battle Axe.
Because he was using an unsuitable weapon, he had been suppressing his desires and restlessness, and finally seized the best opportunity to launch a successful sneak attack.
As expected of Saurfang the Great, he was well-versed in his father's signature skills, and Cairne Bloodhoof was immediately severely injured.
His left shoulder was slashed open diagonally, the wound reaching his heart. The sharp Battle Axe split his heart in two, yet it was still beating stubbornly. Countless Blood-red Threadworms curled and wriggled within the torn flesh.
"A dishonorable blow, I apologize, Warchief. You are old, return to your grave."
Sagulos revealed the same smug smile as his father, looking at Warchief Cairne with Mercy.
Cairne, staring with his only remaining bull eye, said nonchalantly:
"You remind me of Dranosh. If he were still alive, the Horde wouldn't be in this state. Child, you don't need to apologize, because this is exactly what I want you to do. Flesh and blood will make these little ones multiply even faster."
Gazing at the winding, Blood-red Threadworms, Sagulos suddenly had a bad feeling. He abandoned his Battle Axe and turned to flee for his life.
Vol'jin suddenly stood up, his figure blurred for a moment, and then calmly sat down again.
Cairne watched silently as the entire Tauren Legion was wiped out, his single eye filled with smugness.
The reason for ordering the Tauren Legion to Charge in dense formation was precisely to trap them in the Orcs encirclement, thus allowing more flesh and blood to gather together.
Cairne took a deep breath and roared:
"Rise, my warriors, this is your true rebirth."
A cold wind swept across the Battlefield.
Piled up with countless Corpses and limbs, flesh and blood mixed with mud, in the area where the Tauren Legion was wiped out, countless nematodes roamed among the flesh and blood, rapidly dividing, multiplying, and absorbing nutrients from the flesh and blood.
The Orcs and Frostwolf Clan corpses quickly dried up, turning into white, withered bones. The dead Tauren, their incomplete bodies and mutilated limbs, were pieced together by the nematodes.
The nematodes threaded through the mangled bodies, flesh and blood mingling together. One by one, the dead Tauren rose again, their bodies stronger and more frenzied, searching for their armor and weapons, coldly watching the Orcs soldiers who were already terrified.
Cairne's body was completely enveloped by countless nematodes, resembling a giant ball of red thread.
After all the nematodes entered Cairne's body, his body underwent a dramatic transformation. His tail became thicker, his spine extended backward, and a row of sharp bony plates grew out. His legs and hooves became more powerful, his face became ferocious, green Flames spewed from his mouth and nose, and two small pairs of fleshy wings emerged from his back.
At this moment, apart from the bull horns on his head, Cairne no longer resembled Tauren at all; he looked more like a Pit Lord.
In his Pit Lord form, Cairne Bloodhoof roared to the sky and raised his Runed Spear.
"For Azeroth, slaughter these green-skinned beasts!"
"They're not Tauren, run!"
One of the Orcs shouted, and then the entire Orcs Legion collapsed instantly.
The once brave and fearless Orcs Legion was finally terrified. Soldiers dropped their armor and weapons and fled in panic toward Orgrimmar, trampling each other to death.
Fortunately, this is Durotar, not too far from Orgrimmar.
Cairne brandished his Runed Spear, leading his resurrected Tauren Legion towards the Orcs center, where Warchief Vol'jin was located.
The defeat was swift and devastating. Even the most valiant Fel Orcs guards were powerless against the fleeing Orcs army, helplessly swept along by the tide of the fleeing forces as they headed towards Orgrimmar.
The Tauren, when running at full speed, were incredibly fast. They quickly caught up with the fleeing Orcs Legion and, ignoring their cries and pleas for mercy, slaughtered Orcs like slicing melons and vegetables.
The once invincible Orcs tribes, Blackhand and Orgrimmar, Thrall and Saurfang, whose formidable reputations were built up by two generations of Orcs, vanished completely in this moment.
Cairne quickly reached Vol'jin's location and grabbed his old friend.
"Vol'jin, you really are a cunning fellow."
Cairne looked at the trembling Troll at his feet and immediately recognized him as an imposter.
When Vol'jin realized something was wrong, he immediately switched places with a pre-prepared decoy, while the real Vol'jin escaped amidst the chaos.
If he doesn't even have this basic awareness, how could Vol'jin become Warchief?
With a single hoof stomping, Cairne crushed the imposter's skull, his anger barely contained, his heart filled with boundless killing intent.
Orgrimmar, the capital of the Horde, is known for its tall and sturdy walls.
Now the city wall has become an insurmountable barrier. After all, the city gate is relatively narrow, and countless defeated Orcs soldiers are crammed together, all scrambling to escape into the city. Those Orcs who can't wait can only climb the city wall.
Cairne led his Tauren Legion in relentless pursuit. When he finally caught sight of the towering walls of Orgrimmar, Cairne madness subsided from the carnage. Seeing the countless Orcs killed and wounded along the way, he suddenly realized that these Orcs could become his subordinates in the future; they were excellent Servants and provisions.
After this battle, the Orcs will surely be demoralized and will surrender soon.
Cairne trusted his judgment and slowed down the pursuit of the Orcs.
Thanks to Cairne's deliberate leniency, less than half of those who escaped back to Orgrimmar remained.
In the morning, it was a mighty army of 200,000, with impeccable military bearing, excellent equipment, and an imposing presence.
After the war, only 100,000 defeated and disorganized soldiers remained, their morale severely low, their eyes filled with fear and despair.
Vol'jin locked himself in the chieftain's tent; at this moment, he was almost in despair.
An undead Tauren Legion is practically Invincible. How could Azeroth have such terrifying monsters, even more terrifying than the Scourge of yesteryear? The Alliance would certainly not offer any assistance upon receiving this news.
Two hundred thousand Orcs were defeated, Vol'jin didn't know how to deal with this devastating situation. He could only pray to the Loa he worshipped, but unfortunately, there was no response for a long time.
The Orcs army retreated to Orgrimmar, and Cairne did not rush to attack the city.
The Tauren Legion set up camp near Orgrimmar and then built various siege weapons to demonstrate their resolve.
Cairne tried every means to demoralize the Orcs. He first ordered the Tauren to turn the Orcs corpses that had died from being chased and trampled on by each other into Tough Jerky, and they didn't even spare the skeletons.
The Tauren erected countless wooden poles opposite Orgrimmar, neatly hung with Orcs skeletons, forming a snow-white forest of bones.
This was a severe blow to the morale of the Orcs. As far as the eye could see, countless white bones swayed in the wind. Even the bravest Orcs trembled in fear, and Orcs had already suggested surrendering to Vol'jin.
The two young generals, Gordo Nazgrim and Sagulos Saurfang, have had their confidence completely shattered by Cairne and have become the most Steadfast to surrender.
"Surrender, Orcs, there is no hope left."
Vol'jin, who locked himself in his chieftain's tent, could always hear such sounds coming from outside.