Ashen Dragon

Binder River, various big and small tents were stationed here, and now, this has become a temporary stronghold of the Red Blood Tribe.

After that battle, the former orc vanguard, Solo Blooddrinker, replaced Batu to become the temporary chieftain of the tribe, but... the position was not so easy to hold.

At this moment, the tent was brightly lit, emotions ran high, the orcs' expressions were fierce, and spittle flew as they spoke. "Solo, you coward!"

An orc commander raised his spear and roared, "The Father God said, the coward should be pierced through the chest by the sharp spear, you are not fit to be our chieftain!"

"The dwarf killed our chieftain! Facing such a deep blood feud, you actually talk about recuperating?"

Someone pointed a spear tip at Solo's head who sat on the Bone Throne. "Solo, what about the revenge you promised?

For months, we orcs have been hiding here and there, hunted by the dwarves' patrols like rabbits on the prairie!"

A towering orc solemnly said, "Remember, Solo, you became chieftain just by luck, and if it continues like this, we don't mind choosing someone else..."

"Snap!"

Solo rose from the Bone Throne and suddenly cracked the table in front of him.

He looked around at the orcs' faces, pointed towards the south, and furiously said, "Batu is dead, the Old Shaman is also dead, with what shall we take revenge on the High Mountain Kingdom, with you defeated soldiers?

You who deem yourselves warriors, if you have the capability, go intercept that golden-skinned crawler yourself! This month alone it has destroyed twelve of our strongholds!"

Instantly, the tent fell silent, the orcs were speechless, even the air seemed to freeze.

During this period, "miserable" was the only word to describe the orcs' experiences. Due to the shortage of food supplies, the massive orc army dispersed into various nomadic groups, reverting to their former disorganized state.

The elves and dwarf patrols from the High Mountain Kingdom galloped across the vast Wuge Prairie, continuously hunting down lone orcs.

And that gold dragon was the dwarves' hope, yet in the eyes of the orcs, it was a death god harvesting lives, a devil from purgatory, they even fearfully called it "The Punisher."

The gold dragon often soared in the sky, flapping its wings, spewing fervent and surging dragonflame, mercilessly destroying the orcs' strongholds, leaving nothing but widespread corpses and smoldering ruins with billowing thick smoke.

"I admit, I'm not like Batu or Coup, who could win the favor of Father God, but... with this bunch of garbage, you also want to step on my head?

Our failure is clearly the fault of you incompetents! Lord Batu gave his all, yet you sat back and did nothing!

Anyone who wants the position of chieftain of the Red Blood Tribe, just come on, I'm not afraid of any challenge!"

Solo's angry voice echoed in the tent, and those orc commanders who were just aggressive, were now silent.

Because Solo was right, Batu Skullcrush's strength was evident to all; they couldn't even intervene in Batu's battles.

And with the entire "Gush's Eye" sacrificed in the clan, Solo Blooddrinker, known for imbibing the blood of giants, was indeed the best among them.

That same orc commander who had first spoken out stepped forward, trying to improve the relationship, so he said quietly, "Solo, maybe..."

However, at this moment, a sudden sharp screech sounded, an arrow pierced through the outside wool felt of the tent, striking directly at Solo's chest.

"Whoosh—"

All orcs could hear— it was the sound of an arrow piercing through the air.

"Enemy attack!" Solo exclaimed, and with great speed, he sidestepped, barely dodging the attack.

"Crack!"

And that arrow deeply embedded itself into the Bone Throne, while at the same time, elite orc warriors outside the tent came to the sound, guarding outside the tent, searching for the source of the attack.

"Dammit, how could this..." Solo, clutching his chest, gasped for breath, looking at the incoming arrow, which was embedded in the tough skull, obviously with great force, and deadly venom flowing out.

This attack was sinister and vicious, the target was clear, aimed to take his life—Solo Blooddrinker's life!

And the feather of that arrow also caught his attention, Solo narrowed his eyes and intensely watched the brown feather, his voice hoarse. "Feathers of the High Mountain Vulture..."

Only orcs would breed such brutal, ugly birds, and make such arrows.

Solo's heart trembled at once—perhaps, this assassination attempt did not come from the High Mountain Kingdom, but from within the Beastman Army itself!

The Orc picked up his spear and charged out of the tent, turning his head towards the direction the arrow had come from. Once a Hunting Captain, he instantly recognized the movement in a pile of dry grass a hundred meters away.

Disordered footprints, upturned soil, scattered eagle feathers...

Solo was certain; this was not merely the wind stirring the grass, but an enemy hiding within!

Yet he did not startle the snake by beating the grass. Instead, he held his breath, tensed all the muscles in his body, gripped the sharp spear in his hand, and then hurled it violently.

"Whoosh—"

The spear broke through the air, swiftly striking towards the pile of dry grass and caused blood to splatter, violently shaking the stack of grass which emitted a wail.

Solo mounted his Worgs and roared: "The enemy is right there! Capture him alive! We cannot let him escape!"

The Worgs Cavalry, one after another, formed squads of three or four men, coordinating with each other, swiftly converging from different directions to tightly surround the pile of dry grass.

Close up, Solo finally saw the true face of the person who attacked him—a lean orc dressed in a tattered brown robe.

At this moment, the orc was pinned to the ground by the spear, with blood continuously gushing from the wound, while the surrounding Orc Cavalry glared menacingly.

An Orc Cavalry picked up a spear, grinned, and said: "Lord Solo, this damned fellow tried to assassinate you! Shall we torture him..."

Solo gestured to stop him. "Wait, I still have something to ask him."

The dying orc on the ground now raised his head, looking at Solo with a face full of hatred and scoffed sarcastically, "Go ahead and kill me, you bastard from the Red Blood Tribe, you cowardly liar."

Solo gazed down upon him, unable to help furrowing his brows: "Why do this? We Orcs who follow the will of the Father God should be united.

Lord Batu said that, regardless of the clan, we should stand together against the outsiders, kill those Dwarves and Elves, and reclaim the land that rightfully belongs to us."

"Enough!"

The orc let out an angry roar, his eyes bloodshot, and his mouth spraying blood-stained spittle. "I've had enough of your Red Blood Tribe's pretentious acts!

You always talk about standing together, yet you occupy our Cold Crow Clan's territory at this time, seized the land my ancestors obtained after a hundred years of conquest, leaving us homeless!"

Solo could not help but argue: "This is just a temporary encampment, the Beastman Army will soon rally again, we will avenge Lord Batu, destroy the High Mountain Kingdom, and occupy Aivendel..."

The expression on the face of the Orc assassin became even more ferocious, the mockery utterly undisguised. "Solo, stop deceiving us with the lies concocted by your Red Blood Tribe!"

"Without Batu, how can the Orcs breach Aivendel? Just by you?"

For a moment, Solo was actually at a loss for words. He had to admit that he indeed had a private desire to let the Red Blood Tribe occupy the best pastures, not as glorious as he claimed verbally.

"It was your reckless Red Teeth Tribe, deceiving our chieftain, making us become homeless dogs, ultimately leading to our utter destruction!" The orc used his last bit of strength, roaring as loud as he could, and hurled a dagger smeared with deadly poison towards Solo.

"How dare you!"

"Despicable creature!"

The Orc Soldiers nearby rushed forward, waving their spears and curved swords, slicing the assassin from the Cold Crow Clan into pieces.

Solo looked at the mound of unrecognizable flesh, silent.

Shortly after, a long howl of a Worg came from the distance, and a Scout from the west brought news: "Lord Solo, the Cold Crow Clan was heavily attacked by a Dwarf force several days ago, and has already..."

"I know."

Solo turned his head, looking towards the Blackstone Mountain Range not far away, the dwelling place of the Shield Dwarves, also the insurmountable high wall that the Orcs had failed to overcome for thousands of years.

It was this undulating mountain range that trapped the Orcs on this barren, desolate land, constantly fighting each other for resources.

Batu, you were a hero of the Orcs, but what should I do now? Should I let this history of Orcs killing each other continue to repeat itself?

Solo sighed deeply, a helpless look emerging on his scarred, ugly face.

He did not notice, floating in the Binder River, an Orc corpse slightly trembled, a rich, overwhelming dark color suddenly appearing in the water, as if to devour everything.