After Ronin's reminder, Garrosh realized that the initiative was actually in his own hands. He didn't need to attack the Alliance's stronghold, he just needed to hold on.
Cutting off the alliance's food channels, once the food is exhausted, the alliance will sooner or later fall into panic and have no choice but to come out to seek a decisive battle.
Countless experiences and lessons have proven that in a field battle with the orcs, the Alliance is absolutely no match.
Garrosh grinned, let go of the beautiful mage who had chewed her flesh to pieces, patted Ronin on the shoulder and said, "Archmage Ronin, you will always be a good friend of the tribe."
Luo Ning was in high spirits, a little proud, and said with a smile: "This is what I should do."
Garrosh returned to the camp and changed his strategy. No matter how provocative General Hippoly was, the orc army only focused on building fortifications and could not hold on, and the two sides fell into a confrontation.
At the highest point of the city, General Hippoly looked at the orc city under construction in the distance, with a look of bitterness and helplessness on his face, and said to his subordinates:
"I provoked Garrosh in every possible way just to make him waste his troops in the attack. Now that the orc army cannot hold out, our army's food is gradually depleted. What should we do?"
A subordinate whispered: "General, the matter has come to this. We can only ask His Majesty the King for orders to withdraw all the army and start a decisive battle with Garrosh as soon as possible. Only then can there be a chance of survival."
General Hippoly supported the city head and said with a wry smile:
"Why don't I know this truth? It's just that His Majesty the King is so happy with success, short-sighted, stupid and short-sighted, and there are a group of doves of peace staff around him who harbor evil intentions. How can he listen to my suggestions? Forget it, we will do our best.
My obligation is to set the city on fire and burn my body if things don’t go well. I will be loyal to my country and never leave my flesh and blood to the tribe.”
In the palace of the Zul'Drak Empire, Kits was in a pretty good mood.
The scouts who went deep into the snow-capped mountains discovered an abandoned camp. There were thousands of Drakkari frost trolls inside, all of them were old, weak, sick and disabled. All their flesh and blood had been cut off, and even their bone marrow had been removed.
Obviously, the Drakkari trolls couldn't hold on any longer and had already started killing their own kind to satisfy their hunger.
Kits's lunch today was a roasted tauren. Since Doras, the richest man in Kalimdor, controlled the orc trade, tauren meat has become very popular. Doras, together with the Cenarion Council and the Earthen Ring, developed a
New way to raise tauren.
The tauren raised in this way can be put on the market in just three months. Although their intelligence is similar to that of cattle and sheep, after being stimulated by magic, the meat tastes more delicious and chewy, and is deeply loved by everyone in the alliance and tribes.
Loved by the upper class society.
Kits was in a good mood, humming a tune while eating roasted minotaur meat.
There was a chaos outside the door. Someone seemed to be quarreling. Kits frowned and his good mood was ruined. He slapped the table and asked, "What's the quarrel about? What's going on?"
A guard half-knelt on the ground replied: "His Majesty the King is the messenger of General Hippoly. He requested to see His Majesty. When he received no response, he forced his way in."
Kits Longyan was furious and had a very bad impression of General Hippoly. After hesitating for a moment, Kits secretly said: You want to be a famous king through the ages, why do you need to be like a bunch of rough guys?
So he reluctantly softened his expression, waved his hand and said:
"Let him in."
As soon as the dusty messenger came in, he knelt on the ground with a plop:
"Your Majesty the King, Garrosh's army has cut off our army's food routes, and our army is about to run out of food. I also ask your Majesty to withdraw from the Zul'Drak Empire as soon as possible, fight Garrosh decisively, and re-open the food routes."
Kits ate the minotaur meat, burped with satisfaction, and was about to say something.
The staff on the side pointed at the messenger and reprimanded loudly:
"Bold, now the Drakkari Trolls are about to be destroyed. His Majesty the King is about to become a wise king forever, and will be famous for generations. Countless people will praise the King's greatness. You dare to destroy His Majesty's great cause. You are punishable and your crime is unforgivable.
."
Kits's face darkened. The more he looked at the messenger, the more displeased he became. He really wanted to push it out and chop it into meat paste. He suppressed his anger and asked, "How much rations do we have?"
The staff member calculated with his fingers: "We can still hold on for half a year."
Kits chuckled and said confidently:
"In less than a month, the Drakkari Frost Trolls will starve to death in the snowy mountains. Our army still has half a year's rations, so why panic? In this case, just give General Hippoli some rations so that he can hold on.
, once the Zul'Drak Empire is destroyed, I will take Garrosh's head."
Kits was most worried about Hippoly being unable to defend the rear and being cut off by Garrosh.
When he learned that Hippoly easily defeated Garrosh and almost took his life, forcing Garrosh to avoid the battle, Kites suddenly became more confident.
General Hippoli, who was at the bottom of his army, could win. Kits thought that Garrosh was just a pustule and there was no need to take it seriously.
When the messenger learned that there was food, although he was suspicious, he stopped making trouble.
Following the guards to the quartermaster's office, the quartermaster glanced at the messenger listlessly and handed over a bag of dry food: "Here, this is the food you need, enough for you to eat all the way."
The messenger looked puzzled. He opened the bag and saw some moldy flour cakes. He asked unhappily: "What I need is military rations, not dry food."
The quartermaster snorted coldly: "Military rations? The food roads are all cut off. The army has been without food for three days. I saved these dry rations from the rations. Go back as soon as possible."
The messenger refused to comply and argued with reason: "His Majesty the King told me that you have half a year's army rations."
"Half a year?"
The quartermaster glanced at the corner of his mouth, smiled bitterly, shook his head and said:
"The food left by our army is enough for His Majesty the King to feed himself for half a year. The soldiers can only eat grass roots and bark. His Majesty the King closed his eyes and listened, and the staff of the Dove of Peace blocked it. He did not know the situation in the army at all.
Go back, there is no hope for the alliance."
The messenger looked at the royal guards who were watching eagerly, knowing that they were all doves of peace and could no longer see the king. He could only sigh helplessly and left with dry food on his back.
Northwest of Zul'Drak, near the border of the Storm Peaks.
A small floating city slowly landed, and Robbie took Dakuru out of the floating city.
Dozens of natural disaster mages built an undead magic circle near the floating city. As the magic circle moved, the power of death covered the entire Zul'Drak Empire, and countless dead climbed up from the ground and moved towards the floating city.
The invasion of the Alliance was a disaster for the Zul'Drak Empire. The Loa gods were in a hurry to escape and had no time to collect the souls of the dead.
More and more walking corpses are gathering next to the floating city, and the place is filled with darkness, haunted by ghosts, and bursts of black wind, turning this place into a terrifying cemetery.
Robbie said to Dakuru: "A natural disaster cemetery will be built here, and the name is Voltarus. If there are soldiers from the Alliance coming to defect, remember not to refuse, feed them well, and let them help us build the cemetery.
cemetery."
Darkuru asked respectfully: "Do we need to turn them into undead?"
Robbie shook his head and said seriously: "In the Scourge Legion, the living are more precious than the dead. Don't let any soldier die of hunger. I have my own arrangements."