Terrifying Tauren Warrior

Leading the Tauren warriors was a Tauren who appeared exceptionally tall and powerfully built even among his own kind. Two enormous totem poles were strapped to his back, and he wielded a massive spear in both hands. Alone, he held back the assault of a huge mass of Centaurs. Standing there like a city wall, he gave the Centaurs no hope of crossing even half a step. Every Centaur who tried to breach his defenses was turned into a corpse beneath his spear.

Rend watched as a force of several hundred Centaurs tried to break through the warrior's line. The Tauren raised a leg thicker than Rend's waist and viciously stomped a hoof into the ground. The earth shook violently around his hoof. It was War Stomp, a racial talent possessed by both Centaurs and Tauren, but Rend had never seen one so terrifying. This was practically an area-wide earthquake! It directly altered the terrain, causing a huge pit to collapse inward. The Centaur squad could not stop in time and all charged into the suddenly formed artificial pit. Then the gigantic Tauren warrior raised his spear and slammed it down upon the fallen Centaur warriors within. A shockwave burst forth, sending dust flying from the ground once more. When it settled, the Centaur squad in the pit had been grotesquely twisted together, blood continuously flowing from their mangled bodies.

The Tauren warrior raised the leg that had caused the earthquake and planted it atop the Centaur corpses. With one hand gripping his spear and its butt braced against the ground, he stared at the endless Centaurs before him. Yet not a single Centaur dared step forward. None dared challenge the authority of this powerful warrior again.

Without question, he was a powerful warrior. Rend had met many powerful warriors in the Horde, but even Grommash Hellscream, the strongest among them, could not match this Tauren warrior in sheer strength. This was simply not power a mortal should possess. Even the strongest ogres in Rend Blackhand's memory had never possessed such strength. Perhaps only Gronn could compare. It was hard to imagine how a mortal body could contain power equal to a Gronn's.

Strong! Incredibly strong! This Tauren warrior, especially in terms of the intimidation and effect he created... Rend knew that in a one-on-one fight, this Tauren could not possibly be stronger than Grommash, who had reached the pinnacle of the warrior's path. But if it were Grommash, he could not have produced this effect either. This was what it meant to specialize in one's field. Grommash was powerful in every aspect as a warrior—strength, speed, willpower, and combat experience were all top-tier. But in terms of strength, this Tauren warrior might truly be the strongest mortal alive. He could truly shatter a thousand armies with a single force and break all techniques with a single strength.

Rend also noticed that some distance away from the Tauren warrior stood several Centaur Khans who were no weaker than him, and some were even stronger. They commanded Centaur cannon fodder to die in battle. Even with their strength, they did not dare challenge this warrior directly. They could only try to wear down his stamina through an endless stream of ordinary Centaur soldiers.

One had to know that Centaurs were also a race renowned for their physical strength. They were descendants of the demigod Cenarius's sons and an earth elemental princess, inheriting the bloodlines of the Earthen and demigods. Though they were malformed creatures, their powerful physiques were acknowledged throughout the continent. Even so, the Centaurs had submitted—or rather, succumbed to fear—before this Tauren warrior's strength. They did not dare test his monstrous power with their own bodies.

Rend felt that using a spear for such terrifying strength was a waste. That immense power perfectly matched the figure in his memories: the same terrifying strength, wielding two enormous warhammers, charging alone into an army of hundreds of thousands and driving them back by himself. Only Li Yuanba, the reincarnation of the Golden-Winged Roc, possessed such power. Rend felt that this warrior should forge two giant warhammers. When those hammers were swung in his hands, every strike would surely carry a concussive force. The Centaurs' powerful bodies would be like paper before him. One hammer blow, and a graze meant death; a direct hit meant annihilation.

A scene suddenly formed in Rend's mind. This warrior wielded enormous warhammers, followed by Tauren and ogre warriors. Every one of them was armed to the teeth, each holding a warhammer in either hand. Such a force would charge into the enemy formation, using their massive bodies to crush the enemy lines. Their armor, armed to the teeth, would block enemy attacks, while every swing of their twin warhammers would send the brains of their relatively smaller enemies flying. They would be unstoppable and invincible! This was the true aesthetic of violence! What army could stand against them? Even the Seventh Legion would be unable to stop an army made up of maniacs like these! What tactics? What elites? I beat elites! Draw a line and steamroll forward—this was what men pursued!

While Rend was still lost in his wild imaginings, Thrall, though equally stunned by the Tauren warrior's terrifying power, quickly recovered. Now was the time to support the Tauren.

"Warriors of the Horde, follow me and crush these filthy Centaurs! Save the trapped Tauren warriors!" Raising Doomhammer high, Thrall issued his command to the Horde warriors. These were unlike the Centaurs they had encountered before. Without a doubt, these three hundred thousand Centaurs had undergone extensive training and slaughter. They could be called Centaur warriors. This would undoubtedly be a bitter battle.

This time, Thrall did not lead from the front. Instead, he remained where he was. Unlike the dark green magic of the past, immense blood-red magic now swirled around him. Faintly, blood-red heads could be seen within it, roaring in fury. "For the Horde, Lok'tar ogar!" A blood-red torrent surged upward around Thrall and exploded in the air like a rain of blood. Above every Horde warrior touched by the crimson droplets, the roaring image of a head suddenly appeared. Their skin turned blood-red, and their muscles swelled against their armor.

"For the Horde, Lok'tar ogar!" Every orc warrior shouted. This was the battlefield language passed down by the orcs since ancient times, and it possessed unimaginable power. It held no magic, yet it could drive every Horde warrior mad and restore the strength of grievously wounded warriors. It was not merely a slogan. It was also faith.

With the strength of Azeroth's greatest shaman, Thrall used the slogan as a rallying call to cast Bloodlust, a secret art unique to shamans, upon nearly every Horde warrior. In truth, even with Thrall's power, he could not directly cast Bloodlust upon three hundred thousand people. But this was the Horde. Through the faith contained in the words "For the Horde," they could connect with the hearts of every Horde warrior and directly awaken their fighting power.