Hellfire Peninsula.
Waves of scorching heat rolled across the land, baking it relentlessly.
This place had no four seasons. It had only one: summer.
Dressed in a loose robe that day, Rex walked slowly through the Alliance Expedition's camp, inspecting it carefully.
More than four months had passed since Rex had last learned about the situation in the Blade's Edge Mountains. During those months, nothing had happened in either Outland or Azeroth. Everything had remained peaceful.
Rex had been rather idle lately. Nothing had happened in Outland, and everything had settled into a routine, continuing to develop step by step. The Alliance was slowly growing stronger there.
Compared with the Alliance, the Horde's development lagged far behind. After all, the Horde consisted of Orcs, Tauren, and Trolls, races that had possessed little wealth to begin with. The Orcs had spent years imprisoned by the Alliance in the Refuge and had only escaped a few years earlier. The Darkspear Tribe was merely a small tribe among the Trolls, while the Tauren had been relentlessly hunted by Centaurs.
As for the others, such as the Quilboar, did they look like a wealthy race?
No matter how one looked at them, none of the Horde's members were wealthy. These races could muster and ship very little aid from Azeroth to Outland. The gap between them and the Alliance was enormous.
The Horde had no money, but the Alliance did. The wealth the Alliance had accumulated over all these years could not be underestimated.
If they competed purely in military strength, the gap between the Alliance and the Horde was not particularly large. Although the Alliance was stronger, the Horde was still capable of fighting back. In other respects, however, the Horde fell far behind.
The Horde's resources were only enough to sustain its