Waiting

The second week of September marked the Harvest Festival, a day when all humans across the Kingdom of Lordaeron celebrated the year's bounty and honored the heroes who had passed. However, the warriors stationed at Northland Fortress had no heart for festivities; everyone was busy preparing for the upcoming campaign against Zul'Aman.

Under the supervision of a large contingent of human soldiers, the Blackpaw Gnolls remaining in the camp spent their days repeating the tasks of logging, constructing new encampments, and crafting crude weapons.

Though they were called weapons, they were little more than wooden poles sharpened at one end to serve as spears, or thick planks of wood with handles nailed on to act as shields. These items would be put to use in the campaign to purge the Trolls. Maxwell dared not provide the Gnolls with refined equipment until he was certain they would not rebel.

Furthermore, according to reports from the capital, it would not just be the Blackpaw Clan Gnolls gathering near the fortress. Following the Kingdom's Harvest Festival, all Gnoll tribes that had submitted to the crown, along with captives taken during the purges, would be sent to the vicinity of Northland Fortress. Conservative estimates placed their numbers at around twenty to thirty thousand. They could be a powerful asset in the war against Zul'Aman, or they could become a massive burden and a hidden danger to the human army.

However, the battle-hardened commander had already devised a strategy. As long as the currently docile Blackpaw Gnolls could truly pledge their loyalty to humanity, he was confident he could utilize the incoming Gnolls to their fullest potential in the war against the Trolls.

During this waiting period, Alvin finally made a breakthrough under the guidance of the Archbishop. He not only mastered more second-circle divine spells but also successfully became a Level 4 Priest, just one step away from the threshold of a mid-tier priest.

Unlike his experiences in the games of his past, in this world of Azeroth, mortal power levels were divided into 20 levels across four stages: 1-5 were low-tier, 6-10 were mid-tier, 11-15 were high-tier, and 16-19 were master-tier. As for anything beyond level 20, it was known as the legendary realm, a mythical state that few mortals ever managed to reach.

Generally, most common human soldiers were low-tier warriors. A mid-tier warrior was qualified to become a squad leader, while a high-tier warrior could serve as an officer commanding a battalion of two hundred men. As for higher military ranks, the criteria were not based solely on personal strength, but also on the accumulation of military knowledge and combat experience.

A general was not necessarily the strongest warrior in the army, but he would at least be a high-tier warrior, and he would certainly possess exceptional talent or extensive experience in commanding large-scale battles.

Although in Alvin's memories this world was rife with powerful figures, his contact with Uther and Kel'Thuzad over the past six months had taught him once again that "there is strength in numbers"—unless one was prepared, even a high-tier professional could not move freely through a battlefield of thousands.

As for those who had entered the legendary realm, he had yet to see any, but based on historical records and his own conjectures, in mortal warfare, sheer numbers could often compensate for a lack of high-end combat power. In other words, even the strongest of mortals could be buried by a sea of enemies.

This also aligned with Alvin's past gaming experiences—the War of the Shifting Sands, the Siege of Ulduar, where powerful Old Gods were sealed away one after another; and Onyxia, Nefarian, and the powerful bloodline of Deathwing, all of whom died at the hands of mortals.

Despite the fact that quantity could sometimes overcome quality, Alvin was still not accustomed to entrusting his fate to others. From the moment he opened his eyes to this magical world, the desire to grow stronger had taken deep root in his heart. What youth is not a bit reckless? What ordinary modern person would not be intoxicated by powerful and mysterious forces?

A flash of pure Holy Light flickered over Alvin.

After casting a blessing spell on himself for the third time, the boy felt the surge of new power within him. He swung his two-handed greatsword—which was nearly as tall as he was—and lunged toward Uther, who stood a few paces away. The weapon he had previously struggled to wield now seemed to come alive in his hands; the heavy blade was swung in a wide arc, hacking down fiercely toward the young warrior's head.

Clang!

The young warrior easily blocked the attack with his shield, simultaneously angling it skillfully to deflect the majority of the force from the longsword. As he stepped aside to avoid Alvin's momentum-driven body, Uther frowned slightly, looked back at the boy who was brimming with excitement over his newfound power, and shouted, "Stop!"

"This is training, not a battlefield! Fight using your own true physical strength!"

Even when facing a prince of the Kingdom of Lordaeron, the rigid instructor showed no mercy. He sternly criticized the boy's behavior, "Remember, using the power of the Holy Light during your training does little for your physical conditioning; it will only prevent you from breaking free of a power that does not truly belong to your body."

Having said this, the man looked toward the fortress gate. A large group of heavily armed knights was approaching the watchtower on tall warhorses. The royal standard embroidered with the blue double-headed eagle announced their identity: the Royal Knights of Lordaeron.

The first batch of reinforcements from the Kingdom of Lordaeron had arrived. These knights were escorting Gnolls from north of Andorhal who had long occupied Redpine Valley. In this battle, the Red Pine Gnolls had been rounded up in their entirety. After the brutal fighting, less than half of the Gnoll warriors remained as captives, and nearly all of them were wounded.

As for the Mudsnout Gnolls wandering in Silverpine Forest, they had split up directly due to the military might of Lordaeron. Most of the Mudsnout Clan members followed their chieftain south into the territory of Gilneas, while the remaining three thousand young warriors chose to surrender.

After the first batch of Red Pine Gnoll captives was sent to Northland Fortress, they received treatment entirely different from that of the Blackpaw Clan. Although the priests of Lordaeron provided them with a measure of medical aid, their every move was monitored by both humans and the Blackpaw Gnolls.

Maxwell was unwilling to let these beasts, who had forged a blood feud with the Kingdom of Lordaeron on the battlefield, slip out of his control, while Tagg wanted to use the Redpine Clan to help the Blackpaw Clan shed their status as cannon fodder. Despite their differing motives, they shared the same goal: to make the Redpine Clan Gnolls the primary cannon fodder in the assault on Zul'Aman.

PS: Thanks to book friend Nuhu Qiliou for the 100 Qidian coin tip, thank you for your support!