Great Prairie, on the shores of the sacred lake, the residence of the Royal Tent.
This was a very flat area, with the orc camp abruptly built on it, and the bright campfires illuminating it as if it were daytime.
At the very center of the camp, the orc Great Chieftain Abar, who ruled the Royal Tent, sat enthroned on a beast-headed throne forged from black iron.
Any creature that beholds the Great Chieftain is filled with awe. This orc's imposing physique is the limit of what intelligent beings can achieve. His bronze skin gleams with a cold metallic light under the torches, and the bulging muscles on his neck are like ancient vines. Atop his neck, a head with protruding fangs supports a rhinoceros horn helmet carved with tribal totems.
A dark red leather armor covered the Great Chieftain's rocky, muscular physique, while a dark brown cloak draped along the edge of the throne, its surface adorned with an unknown material that made it shimmer like stars.
Abar's rough hands rested motionless on the armrests, three copper rings on his wrists leaving shallow marks on his bulging muscles, and calluses from years of wielding axes lingering between his protruding knuckles. These features constantly reminded people that the Great Chieftain was not only a ruler, but also a powerful warrior.
Anyone who knows Abar's life story would not dare to even think of fighting him. At the age of fourteen, he was able to go out hunting on horseback by himself, and the prey he brought back was not the kind of trial prey that other orc boys would hunt, such as rabbits or foxes. These weak prey never caught the eye of the Great Chieftain. The prey he brought back was often a fierce, large carnivore, such as tigers, leopards, and bears.
What's even more astonishing is that he has never lost a fight in the enclosure, a popular sport on the grasslands. The two competitors enter a ten-meter square enclosure and fight without restraint. Although it's a competition, it's more like a life-or-death duel in the human world, often ending with one side killing the other. This is because the two sides in the enclosure fight are often evenly matched, and to win, one must seize every opportunity to strike ruthlessly. Also, according to the orcs' tradition, the head of the loser in the enclosure fight is the symbol of honor for the victor.
But Abar not only remained undefeated, he also created a miracle—he consistently managed to suppress his opponents without killing them. His brilliant record earned him the adoration of countless orcs on the plains, and the orc warriors he defeated in the encampment battles were grateful that Abar had not taken their lives, willingly joining his ranks and serving him loyally.
Boom boom boom! The muffled thunderous sound of drums echoed throughout the camp, spreading in all directions across the grassland.
This was the sound of the Great Chieftain summoning his followers. As the drumbeats spread, the camp soon became noisy. Countless figures gathered from all directions of the camp, forming a circle around the blazing bonfire in front of the throne. Everyone looked up at the high throne, their eyes focused on Abar.
Since Abar became the ruler of the Zhaerge Clan, he has conquered countless orc clans across the plains over the past decade, bringing them under his command. Now, his army is filled with the bravest and most powerful warriors from each clan.
For months, Royal Tent has been sending cavalry across the steppes to summon the war leaders of various clans to the shores of the sacred lake.
In orc legends, the sacred lake is the easiest place to communicate with the spirit of the grassland they believe in, because a special plant grows near the sacred lake, which the orcs call star grass. When shamans eat this grass, they fall into a dreamlike state, at which point their souls can build a channel connecting to the pure spiritual world and communicate face to face with the sacred spirit of the grassland.
Abar summoned his clansmen at this special location to announce a major event.
Looking at the war leaders below the stage, their eyes burning with fervor, he felt a surge of pride. It was precisely because his army had gathered the essence of the grasslands that they were able to inflict continuous heavy losses on the human world. The humiliating history of orcs being suppressed by humans and only able to plunder when the enemy was off guard was gone forever.
Now, whether in the Gabella Empire in the east or the Aldor Kingdom in the west, they are both facing immense pressure from the orcish army. Gabella was forced to make peace, while Aldor ceded large tracts of fertile land to the orcs—in the eyes of the orcs, Yellow Earth Land was already considered quite fertile land.
Now, it's time to lead the orcs to a higher level.
Abar looked at the crowd, his drooping brow bones casting shadows on his eye sockets, his half-closed amber pupils wide open.
"My lords, my mighty and loyal warriors, children sheltered by the spirit of the grassland!" As his Adam's apple bobbed with his voice, the gray-white mane covering his chin trembled slightly, like that of a lion.
The large hand slammed against the armrest of the throne, the clanging of the ring against the black iron armrest causing the flames on the torches around him to flicker.
The Great Chieftain's deep voice boomed like a horn: "I have summoned you here to announce that the Royal Tent has found new prey!"
A commotion erupted below, a cacophony of excited chatter as every war leader yearned for the hunt.
Abar raised his hand, and the murmurs of the crowd vanished instantly, all eyes turning to him once more.
"On the day of blood three months from now, the banner of Aldor will burn once more." The Great Chieftain's shadowy eyes suddenly flashed with a molten iron-gold hue, as if scorched by flames.
"Is it Aldor? That's a prime piece of meat!"
The leader of the Bonebreaker clan's wolf riders was the first to bare his fangs, even sticking out his scarlet tongue to lick them, looking just like a wild beast ready to devour its prey.
"Yes, it's Aldor!" Abar nodded emphatically, slowly rising to his feet, his extended shadow enveloping everyone beneath the throne.
With a whoosh, he unfurled the cloak behind him, and by the light of the campfire, everyone could immediately see the picture painted on it.
That was actually a map of the entire kingdom of Aldor.
"But we have a peace treaty with Aldor!"
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Abar frowned. He quickly found the source of the voice, which turned out to be his beloved general Kalem, much to his surprise.
He explained to everyone, "We have already witnessed their weakness in Yellow Earth Land. Although a peace treaty has been signed, I have been thinking about this all this time, and I finally believe that if we do not take away their capital for turning the tide while they are weak—that is, their land—then once humans become strong again, they will definitely threaten the grasslands again and return to the old state!"
Great Chieftain's words startled everyone, bringing back terrifying memories of human armies invading and burning the grasslands every year.
What followed further provoked them: "And did you know? In the Blackstone Plain of the human kingdom, that land located to the west of our new territory, countless human armies are gathering and training. Does anyone think they're just putting on a show there?"
A furious roar suddenly erupted from one of the generals: "Take their land!"
This voice immediately ignited the emotions of the crowd.
The orcs roared, their roar eventually becoming a sound powerful enough to shatter wine jars.
"Decorate the war drums with the skull of a human king!"
"For the bloody dawn!"