Chapter 746

Beneath the distant horizon, vast and boundless green fields stretched out like an immense tapestry, gently draped across the earth. Sunlight poured down from the azure vault of heaven, and its golden radiance mingled with the dewdrops on the tips of the grass, sparkling with a delicate, dazzling brilliance. It seemed as though every ray of light was telling a story.

This was the Great Prairie, the homeland of the orcs. Countless orc tribes followed nomadic traditions that had endured for thousands of years, raising horses and herding sheep across the prairie, living wherever water and grass could be found.

Though it appeared endless, the prairie was actually divided into northern and southern regions, separated by a vast stretch of the Gobi. Human caravans—or armies—coming from south of the Rocky Mountains could reach only the southern prairie. According to historical records, no one had ever crossed the Gobi to reach the northern prairie.

The Gobi that divided the Great Prairie in two could be called a land of death. Only the elderly shamans among the orcs knew the safe routes through it. For this reason, throughout the long course of history, the Gobi—regarded as an absolute wasteland—had saved the orcs from extinction several times.

The prairie was vast, but it supported a very small population. A severe drought or heavy snowfall could kill large numbers of livestock. When the orcs lost their means of survival, they would turn their eyes toward the human territories in the south. Human lands were fertile, with advanced agriculture and abundant production; in the eyes of the orcs, they were practically rivers of milk and honey.

Thus, they would ride out in groups toward human territory to raid grain, cloth, and other vital supplies. Taking advantage of their superior speed, they would leave swiftly before