"You have already won, why are you still slaughtering us?"
The Pandaren asked, weeping.
The Orcs retorted viciously, "Survival and competition have no inherent justification. Pandaren lowly, devoid of any will to resist, and are only fit to become Orcs rations."
It was another tragic massacre. Including those who died earlier, a total of 200,000 Tauren and 500,000 Pandaren fell in Rag City.
The Orcs didn't waste any of the corpses; the hides were used to make tents, and the flesh was made into Tough Jerky.
Son of the Earth Lie'en Bloodhoof, was captured by Saurfang the Great and turned into a delicious beef hotpot.
When Cairne Bloodhoof heard this news, he simply closed his eyes Anjing, then stared with his bull-like eyes and declared righteously, "This is a great honor. To save Azeroth, the Tauren are willing to make such a sacrifice."
The Battle of Rag City is not recorded in history, but it had a profound impact on the landscape of Azeroth.
The Troggs resisted the Orcs became public enemies of Azeroth and were massacred, especially with the participation of the Night Elf race. From then on, no race dared to fight the Orcs alone.
The races, fearing the Orcs, had no choice but to join, laying the foundation for the formation of the Horde.
The Night Elves set a terrible example in this war. Although Night Elf race joined the Alliance afterward, they were not trusted. Both humans and Dwarves avoided fighting alongside the Night Elves.
Even more terrifyingly, from then on, the Pandaren of Pandaria truly became food for the Orcs, and until the Orcs were destroyed, more than three million Pandaren were eaten by the Orcs.
The Pandaren population has dwindled, leaving countless fields in Pandaria barren. Even the fertile Halfhill is now overgrown with weeds, with no one to cultivate it.
The Pandaren were then forced to dispel the fog and attract other races to fill the void.
In this man-made tragedy, no Pandaren can escape punishment.
Three years later, the mayor of Halfhill personally saw off his two children. It was the birthday of the great Savior Thrall, and they would contribute two portions of the finest ingredients to the birthday feast.
Several years later, during the war against the Lich King Arthas, the mayor of Halfhill took his wife and boarded a ship bound for Orgrimmar. From that day on, no one ever saw the family again.
The only thing that bothered Thrall during this war was that the cunning Garrosh and Kalimdor's richest Doras, Dorath, had disappeared. They had fled by airship long after the fall of Rag City.
Vol'jin also disappeared along with him, which made Thrall realize something.
This was a great victory, Thrall rushed to Dalaran to claim credit with Archimonde.
Now, more than a million races of Azeroth have died at the hands of the Orcs. The Forge of Souls of the Legion is burning fiercely, and even Archimonde couldn't help but smile with relief. The Burning Legion finally has the resources to attack Mount Hyjal.
Upon arriving in Dalaran, Thrall received an invitation from Archimonde, which made him very proud, as he expected to receive a reward from Archimonde.
Upon entering the Legion's leader's tent, Thrall was immediately dumbfounded.
Garrosh and Doras sat on either side of Archimonde.
From a distance, Vol'jin, looking embarrassed, saw Thrall, shrugged slightly, and gave an innocent look.
"Damn it, those two treacherous bastards!" Thrall understood immediately upon seeing this; they had come to claim credit.
Just as Thrall had guessed, Archimonde chuckled and said:
"I'm aware of the great victory at Rag City. Garrosh, as the leader of the Allied Forces, successfully captured Rag City with sheer numbers, replenishing the Legion with ample souls. He truly deserves the title of son of Grommash Hellscream. Doras played a crucial role in this war, especially in enticing the Night Elf race to join the battle and tricking a large group of Tauren and Pandaren into joining. His contribution was immense, and I have high hopes for them."
Thrall nearly fainted after hearing this, the worst part being that he couldn't refute it.
Archimonde's expression suddenly darkened, and he stared at Thrall with a gloomy look. "I hope that more heroes will emerge from among the Orcs. Great warriors must be respected, like Grom Hellscream."
Thrall was terrified and quickly said obsequiously, "Great Lord Archimonde, this humble Thrall is willing to listen to your teachings."
Archimonde scoffed, "Thrall, you should know what to do. By the way, I left a mark on the souls of Garrosh and Doras, so even if they are killed, the Legion has ways to resurrect them in the Forge."
Upon hearing this, Thrall felt a chill run through him, as if he had fallen into an ice cave. After seeing Garrosh and Doras, he had plotted countless schemes and schemes, trying every means to secretly kill the two of them, but now all his plans had come to naught.
The cunning Thrall, a smile on his face, hurriedly said, "These two are warriors of our Orcs. Anyone who dares to oppose them is an enemy of our Orcs."
Thrall pondered to himself: The Legion's Forge is not without flaws. It is said that the Scourge possesses some dark magic and is capable of contending with the Burning Legion, but Arthas is absolutely unwilling to help. What should he do?
"It's certainly best that you have this awareness," Archimonde said calmly. "Those ten Ancient Divine Turtles, their souls are extremely useful to the Legion. Kill them all, and their flesh can be given to you Orcs. In return, the Legion's engineers can help the Orcs build a formidable city to serve as a base for the Legion's attack on Azeroth."
Thrall dared not refute, and could only nod repeatedly.
Archimonde laughed heartily, patted Garrosh on the shoulder affectionately, and said to Thrall, "The Orcs can proceed as planned. The Night Elves must hate you to death. But I understand them, and I understand Elune's thoughts even better. Compared to the Burning Legion, Elune is clearly more wary of the Scourge. This is our opportunity."
Thrall was unaware of the secrets of the World Tree, but he had heard of the Scourge's dark magic, which seemed to originate from Queen Azshara ten thousand years ago, a queen who clearly had not won the favor of the Moon Goddess.
"Thank you for the Legion's help and support." A defeated Thrall could only reply helplessly, "The Orcs are more than willing to serve the Legion and become the Vanguard in the destruction of Azeroth."
Archimonde nodded in satisfaction. "Thrall, you must pay special attention to that messenger of the Moon Goddess; the victory over the Night Elves rests on his shoulders. Although the Legion could easily wipe out the Night Elf race, I don't want the races of Azeroth to unite; that would cause us unnecessary losses."
Thrall nodded obsequiously, agreeing repeatedly, though he was already seething with anger inside.
Dejected, Thrall walked out of the chieftain's tent and sighed softly. He understood that this was Archimonde's way of controlling his Thrall, he could be replaced at any time.
"Garrosh Hellscream!" Thrall was filled with hatred; he knew this man would definitely become his formidable enemy.
Hearing footsteps, Thrall turned around and saw Vol'jin hurrying after him.
"Vol'jin!" Thrall naturally wouldn't give him a friendly look, coldly asking, "What, now that you have a new master, are you here to laugh at me?"
Vol'jin quickly shook his head, saying innocently, "I was coerced by Garrosh, the great Savior. You are the only Warchief in my heart."
Thrall was not about to believe him so easily, and shouted, "Vol'jin, put away your low-level tricks, you can't fool me."
"No, great Savior, I will prove my loyalty." Vol'jin's eyes darted around, and he whispered, "I can help you kill Grom Hellscream."