Knowing

Blade's Edge Mountain, a cave belonging to an ogre clan.

In the dim cave, braziers burned sporadically. A Two-Headed Ogre sat in the stone chair at the center, his eyes half-closed as though he were about to fall asleep. Before him knelt a brawny ogre warrior.

"How is the recruitment of the ogres on Blade's Edge Mountain going?"

"Master Saiyba, we have already brought ten companies of ogres under our control," the kneeling ogre warrior replied.

The Two-Headed Ogre seated in the chair was none other than Leiluo's old enemy—Saiyba.

Saiyba shifted his cumbersome body and settled into a more comfortable position. "Tomorrow is the day the trade convention ends, correct?"

"Yes, Master."

Hearing his subordinate's answer, Saiyba opened his half-lidded eyes and muttered to himself, "When you return, all you will see are corpses. And the Behemoth will be mine."

Just then, an ogre rushed in from outside the cave in a panic, shouting as he ran, "Master Saiyba! Master Saiyba! Something terrible has happened..."

Saiyba grabbed the cup beside him and hurled it over.

"What are you panicking for? The greater the crisis, the calmer one must be. How else can you accomplish great things?"

Only then did Saiyba ask, "What happened?"

The ogre who had been struck stammered incoherently, "Killed, killed! Master Saiyba has been killed!"

Before Saiyba could fly into a rage, the ogre kneeling on the ground leaped up and grabbed him, slapping him twice across the face. "What are you panicking for? Isn't Master Saiyba standing right here? Who died?"

The captured ogre hurriedly said, "Master Ginyu, I wasn't saying Master Saiyba died! I meant people outside have died!"

Ginyu gave him another slap. "So what if they died? When does no one die?"

Covering his face, the ogre said aggrievedly, "B-but... two squads have all died!"

"What? How did two squads suddenly die?" Before Ginyu could react, Saiyba slammed a hand against the chair, rose to his feet, and roared.

Of course, he did not care about the ogres' lives. It was simply that they were due to act tomorrow, and two squads dying so suddenly was far from normal.

"I-I-I don't know what happened either, Master Saiyba. When we assembled just now, we noticed two squads were missing. Then I went to check their tents and found them all dead."

"Damn it! Investigate! Ginyu, find out who is opposing me first, then organize men to head for the Pebble Clan. The Pebble Clan isn't going anywhere," Saiyba roared.

"Yes! Master Saiyba." Upon receiving Saiyba's orders, Ginyu hurriedly accepted them and left.

"Then, Master, what should I do?"

"You? Since you didn't leave, stay and become my dinner!"

Dozens of orc warriors rode Frostwolves at full speed. At the front rode a female orc. Though she had a curvaceous figure, she was far too slender by orc standards. Beside her was a broad-built orc without tusks.

"Garona, are you certain the Black Robe's information is accurate?"

"Yes, Master. I used many methods I learned from the Arakkoa when I was a slave. The information is definitely accurate."

These orc cavalrymen were Leiluo's group. Under Garona's interrogation, the Black Robe who had raided Leiluo's camp on the night before the martial tournament revealed that Saiyba had led men to Blade's Edge Mountain. Upon learning this, Leiluo paid Durotan in advance and hurried back with his people.

The unfinished Bandar City could not possibly withstand Saiyba. Even if Leiluo dared to return, whether he could be of any use was another matter. Yet he had no choice but to go back. Even knowing that a sheer cliff lay ahead, he had to press onward, because his clan and his people were there.

"Brother, if a Heroic Rank warrior is truly going to attack your clan as you said, why didn't you ask Durotan for help?" Leolox asked from atop his wolf beside him.

"Although Garona is certain of the source, we still don't know when they'll attack. If I rashly ask Durotan to come and they haven't attacked yet, I'll have wasted the favor Durotan owes me," Leiluo explained.

"Besides, there's still an untamed Behemoth in my clan. If Durotan came and took it away, wouldn't I be taking a huge loss?" After weighing the matter for a long time, Leiluo decided not to call Durotan, merely asking Leolox to help instead. In Leiluo's eyes, Leolox would become one of his own sooner or later.

Thus, Leiluo and his group traveled without rest for three days before finally returning to the clan. Yet there was no attack like the Black Robe had described. Leiluo had Garona interrogate the Black Robe again, but received the same answer. With no other choice, Leiluo could only have the clan's warriors remain alert and stay on guard at all times.

When Leolox, who had returned with them, saw the Behemoth in the Pebble Clan and learned that it had yet to be tamed, he began to entertain certain thoughts.

A few days later, laborers from the Shadowmoon Clan arrived. Leiluo threw himself into a tense period of rapid development and set Saiyba's surprise attack aside for the time being.

"Master Saiyba, the Chieftain of the Pebble Clan has returned. Should we begin the attack?" Ginyu asked cautiously as he knelt before Saiyba.

"How many have died these past few days?" Saiyba, seated in the stone chair, asked Ginyu with narrowed eyes.

"R-r-reporting to Master..." Saiyba's question left Ginyu drenched in sweat. "A whole company of warriors has already died."

"Then why haven't you found him?" Saiyba sprang to his feet, roaring.

"Who knows whether he came for the Behemoth? We must find this person!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Master Saiyba, I'll go look immediately." With that, Ginyu scrambled out of the cave.

Watching Ginyu roll out of sight, Saiyba dropped heavily back into the stone chair and muttered, "Who exactly are you? Did you come for the Behemoth? I will find you!"

In the dead of night, amid the cold wind, outside Saiyba's army camp, a figure cloaked in black watched the brightly lit camp and its constant stream of people from the shadows. A faint smile curled across his lips. "You think this will help, Saiyba? Just wait for death."

As he spoke, the figure drew the sword from his back. Its blade was dark red, as if telling all who saw it that it had drunk deeply of blood. Yet beneath Draenor's bright moonlight, it concealed its cold gleam, just like its master—never flaunting his abilities, yet always leaving his enemies separated from their heads.

Winter had arrived on Blade's Edge Mountain, where the cold winds were always biting. A gust swept past, lifting a corner of the black robe and revealing yellowish-brown skin beneath.

Then the figure moved, and there was nothing left in that spot. Like the gust of wind from before, it seemed to have swept everything away, leaving behind only a few mud-streaked fallen leaves to tell others that someone had once stood there.