The Clan Rebellion

North of the Black Stone Mountain Range, south of the Ugo Great Prairie, on the Bindler River.

"It hurts so much!"

"Ah!"

"Damn Imperial People, Father God Gruumsh, my legs!"

"Save me, sir! Please save me! Don't leave me here!"

Along the murmuring river, there were wounded soldiers groaning in pain everywhere, their flowing blood once again staining the river red.

These orcs had their legs blown off by artillery fire, their bodies burned by flames, or even half of their bodies charred black, barely clinging to life.

The tribe's shamans wandered around, treating those with minor injuries by applying herbs and performing Spore Witchcraft, while those with more serious injuries were simply left unattended.

Once someone dies, the orcs will ruthlessly throw their body into the river, making it part of the Bindler River. Even orcs who are seriously injured and unconscious but still breathing are pushed into the river.

This is in accordance with the doctrine of Gruumsh —orcs are eternal Fighter, and all those who are sick, weak, lame, or unfit for war should be expelled.

"Father God above."

Are we destined to die here?

Seeing corpses, and even still-living members of their own kind, being thrown into the river, the orcs couldn't help but feel a sense of shared sorrow, and the atmosphere around them became increasingly oppressive and desperate.

Meanwhile, in a secluded spot in the valley, the chieftains of various clans, including the Black Crow, Frost Wolf, and Rock Lizard Clan, were gathered together for a secret meeting.

"Are we really going to do this? Soro, he..." The leader of the Rock Lizard Clan was still somewhat hesitant, after all, he had personally witnessed Soro's strength.

After receiving that mysterious "gift," Soro's strength is now comparable to that of the former Great Chieftain Batu.

"What are you afraid of? Does he dare to defy the entire clan and kill us all?" the Black Crow Clan leader sneered.

The Frost Wolf Clan leader stepped forward and bluntly stated, "We must leave the Red Blood Tribe! If this continues, our respective clans' elite forces will be completely depleted!"

After Lord Batu's death, the Red Blood Tribe was practically extinct! Only he could lead us orcs to conquer the world!

The Frost Wolf Clan and the Black Crow Clan have a long-standing feud, with generations of blood ties, but at this moment, they are unusually standing on the same side.

Soro's training of inferior orcs, allowing those madmen who don't deserve to be called "orcs" to plunder all the resources of the Ugo Great Prairie, has already aroused the dissatisfaction of the orc leaders.

Before the war began, they still held a sliver of hope for Soro, and were willing to swallow their anger and remain in the Red Blood Tribe for the sake of the greater good of the orcs.

But after the war ended with the orcs' complete defeat and the slaughter of the lower orcs, these clan leaders could no longer tolerate it— the Red Blood Tribe, especially Chieftain Soro, had gone too far!

They want to reclaim their clans' autonomy! They want to return to the Ugo Great Prairie, slaughter those greedy, lowly orcs, and reclaim their clans' pastures and hunting grounds!

"Yes, Soro has been corrupted by the power of those lowly orcs, and he is no longer worthy to be our leader."

"I even suspect that the strange power that created the inferior orcs was not bestowed by the Father God at all, but was obtained by Soro through a trade with other races by sacrificing his people!"

"He is insulting the Father God, and insulting the great orc race!"

"Before Lord Batu's sacrifice, Soro was just a general in the Red Blood Tribe. What right did he have to order us clan leaders around?"

"He doesn't deserve it! This guy squandered the grassland's resources, produced millions of worthless junk, and what was the result? We didn't even touch the walls of Avendell Dan!"

"Soro is no longer worthy of being called an orc! He is the chieftain of lowly orcs, not one of ours!"

Immediately, the more than twenty clan leaders present were filled with righteous indignation, pounding their chests and stamping their feet, venting their hatred for the Red Blood Tribe and Chief Soro, wishing they could stab him to death.

Within the orc race, there exists a primitive democratic system. Only orcs recognized by the leaders of various clans are qualified to become the common ruler of the orcs, also known as the "Great Chieftain."

Hundreds of years ago, a Great Chieftain aroused public outrage and was voted out by the orc clans. The deposed chieftain eventually froze to death in the wilderness.

Now, although the clan leaders are unable to banish Soro, they can lead their respective tribes away from the Red Blood Tribe, leaving this so-called "Great Chieftain" as a figurehead.

Sark, the leader of the Frost Wolf Clan, stood up, raised his weapon, and said in a deep voice, "Gentlemen, we will go back and contact our respective tribes in the next few days, and we will rise up together at dawn three days from now."

Remember, we need to split into more than a dozen groups, each escaping in a different direction, so that he can't concentrate his forces to keep us here.

"By then, the so-called Red Blood Tribe, well, that'll be left to Soro and his bastard offspring."

The leader of the Earth Beast Clan clapped his hands and exclaimed, "Yes, that's the way to do it! I've said it before, those greedy and stupid bastards are not worthy to be our companions!"

"Hahaha, since Soro and Mok like lowly orcs so much, let them spend their whole lives with these bastards!"

The clan leaders all put their hands on their hips and laughed. They had long been fed up with this life of hiding and running, and they had also had enough of Soro's humiliation and insults.

Sark glanced around, a fierce glint in his eyes. "By the way, no one is to tell anyone about this. If anyone dares to inform Soro, I'll make them wish they were dead!"

"Slap, slap, slap!"

Suddenly, applause erupted above the clan leaders, followed by a familiar voice. "You really have surprised me!"

The tone began with sarcasm, then shifted to barely contained anger and resentment. "Gentlemen—traitors to the orc race!"

Upon hearing that voice, Sark's expression changed drastically, his face turning pale. He slowly raised his head, his lips trembling as he uttered the name: "So, Soro, what are you doing here?"

"What?"

"Damn it! When did he get here?"

"You, all of you look up! He's been here all along!" The clan leader's voice trembled with tears.

The orcs all looked up and saw Soro standing atop the cliff, looking down at them with a ferocious expression, veins bulging on his forehead, and murderous intent in his turbid eyes. His strong body, over six meters tall, was like a small mountain.

Beside him stood two strong, burly Green-skinned Orcs, nearly five meters tall, clad in heavy armor made of various parts, with sharp steel claws on their hands and sinister grins on their faces.

These towering orcs stood atop the valley, casting enormous shadows that enveloped several clan leaders.

"Chief Soro".

You've misunderstood.

"Yes, are you sure you heard me right? How could we be traitors?"

With a series of clanging sounds, the clan leaders dropped their weapons to the ground. They looked at each other, their faces filled with astonishment and panic.

The moment Soro appeared, under that immense pressure, the clan leaders, who had been filled with indignation, felt as if their spines had been shattered, and they could no longer stand up.

Only Sark of the Frost Wolf Clan remained defiant.

Although his face was deathly pale, almost bloodless, he still gripped the spear tightly with trembling hands, barely managing to stand up and questioned, "So, Soro, what makes you think you can become the Great Chieftain?"

You, you emptied the entire Ugo Great Prairie, creating millions of low-level orcs, yet you were driven back by the Embers of the Burned Empire! You are utterly unworthy—"

"Whoosh—"

First came the explosive sound of air being torn apart, followed by a crisp "plop" as flesh and bones were pierced.

Sark's words undoubtedly struck a nerve with Soro, and in a fit of rage, the Great Chieftain threw his spear at Sark.

Blood gushed out as the spear pierced through the orc's head, its tip protruding from his buttocks and Ground Spike into the rock behind him.

The chieftain of the Frostwolf Clan, the renowned orc warrior Sak, was pinned to the wall by a casual strike from Thoro!

Sark died with his eyes wide open, his body raised, looking at Soro with disbelief. Even in his dying moments, he couldn't believe that Soro would actually dare to kill him.

For a moment, the valley fell silent, as if chilled to the bone; only after a long while did it become quiet again.

"Sark is dead."

"He's dead."

"They were still nailed to the rock."

He is Sark, the leader of the Frost Wolf Clan! He commands thousands of Dire Wolf Cavalry, and even Batu treats him with great respect, showing him the deference due to an elder.

But now, Soro had killed him just like that? As easily and effortlessly as killing a chicken? In an instant, the clan leaders in the valley felt an immense fear grip their hearts. Their rules, passed down for thousands of years, seemed about to be broken. "Great Chieftain, I am innocent! I was bewitched by them!"

"I had no intention of rebelling. It was Sark! That damned bastard who suggested it! You must be discerning. I have been fighting to the death for the orc race!"

"Great Chieftain, spare me! Our Cold Crow Clan is willing to devote all our strength to serving you!"

In an instant, cries and pleas for mercy filled the valley. Before Sark's bloodied corpse, these clan leaders had lost their former arrogance and were like a pack of wild dogs wagging their tails and begging for mercy.

The leader of the Rock Lizard Clan buried his body deep in the ground, kowtowing repeatedly with tears streaming down his face, completely disregarding the blood covering his forehead.

Soro looked down at them, his eyes filled with disgust and disdain.

The more these clan leaders begged for mercy, the more Soro despised them and the more he wanted to exterminate them.

He said in a cold voice, "Sark just questioned me about why I became the Great Chieftain of the Red Blood Tribe. I think the answer should be clear now."

Soro brandished his fist, which was larger than a normal person's head, and grinned maliciously, "With this! I can kill all of you myself, isn't that enough?"

"That's enough, that's enough."

That's enough.

The clan leaders in the valley nodded in agreement, their faces filled with humility and obsequiousness, hoping only to save their own lives.

After all, Sark's body was still warm and bleeding.

But Soro paid no attention to their reactions and continued, "The great Father God Gruumsh once said: If you want to die sooner, then show weakness, because—the weak do not deserve to live."

"Boom!"

Soro leaped from the top of the cliff, causing the ground to tremble and dust to fly, leaving many clan leaders stiff and unable to move.

He grasped the spear stuck in Sark's head and pulled it out with a little force.

Instantly, warm blood and brain matter gushed out like a fountain, splashing onto Soro's face and body, but he ignored it and didn't care, only staring at the clan leaders.

Soro looked around, the blood on his face resembling some kind of totem, exuding an eerie, bloody, and mysterious aura.

"You have enough power, yet you dared to betray the Red Blood Tribe. After I caught you, you didn't resist, but instead chose to kneel down and beg for mercy. Do you think you deserve to live?"

"What?"

"Do you intend to kill everyone?"

"Soro, you've gone too far! If you kill us, the Red Blood Tribe will fall apart!"

"Sark is dead, we can still live in peace! Don't push us to the brink!"

Instantly, the beastmen in the valley changed their expressions drastically, their faces involuntarily showing emotions such as despair, fear, and anger.

Some even cursed, "Soro! If the various clans unite, even if you are a true Favored by the Gods, you will not escape death!"

But Soro walked straight out of the valley without even turning his head, and simply ordered in a deep voice, "Eliminate these traitors for me."

"Yes, Great Chieftain."

"I just love doing this kind of thing!"

Under the horrified gazes of the clan leaders, the two incredibly burly and strong Green-skinned Orcs atop the cliff laughed wildly and leaped down as well.

"What, what are you going to do?"

"Bastards! Do you intend to devour your master? In the name of the Pure Blood Orcs, I order you to get out of here!"

"Stay away from me!"

The clan leaders in the valley put on a show of force, shouting angrily as if that would drive them away.

But the two Green-skinned Orcs remained unmoved, grinning as they swung their steel claws. Flashes of white light appeared, blood gushed out, and severed limbs flew everywhere.

In no time, the valley was transformed into a bloody slaughterhouse. The rock walls were soaked in blood, and the clan leaders lay dead on the ground. The two orcs, covered in blood, knelt behind Soro.

"Great Chieftain, we have killed all those old guys."

"That was really great!"

These two Green-skinned Orcs were Soro's newly chosen orc leaders. Their names were Garon and Mond, and both were extremely bloodthirsty.

Soro nodded casually, as if he considered the massacre a trivial matter. "Cut off their heads and hang them outside the tents to see how the Fighter of the various clans react."

If anyone shows any rebellious tendencies, kill them all; after all, they're just a bunch of defective products of the Old Era.

Upon hearing that they could kill again, the two orc leaders were overjoyed and readily agreed to this lucrative task.

Soro turned his head, looked at the pile of corpses, and said calmly, "By the way, throw their bodies into the Mother River."

Although they were all weak cowards, they were indeed much stronger than ordinary orcs, and using them as nourishment—it should be possible to cultivate even stronger and larger orcs.

"Yes, Great Chieftain."

The two orc leaders echoed each other, and then happily began to collect the remains, preparing to begin the next killing spree.

Soro raised his head, gazing south again, his eyes filled with hatred. "Just wait, Embers of the Burned Empire, that day is not far off."