The Death Knell

"Humanity!"

Although the opponent was wearing strange full-body armor, his body shape could still be recognized. Orgrim jumped up from the ground, picked up the hammer on the side and was about to hit the person.

But this human was obviously stronger and faster than Lothar, whom he had fought against before. He just stretched out his hand and pinched his shoulder, and Orgrim lost all his strength and fell to the side.

Drek'Thar wanted to cast a spell, but the human who was by the door just now appeared behind him like a ghost, covered his mouth with his hand, and put a dagger on the wrinkled neck.

"Don't move. I'm here to negotiate terms with you, but if you don't know how to flatter me, I can also exterminate your race."

"Come on! Do it! Lok'tar ogar!" Half of Orgrim's body was numb, struggling and squirming on the ground, shouting loudly.

However, human beings let out chirping laughter, this kind of laughter, like that of demons.

"Haha, Orgrim, you are so brave and resourceful." The human took out a roll of strange stuff from somewhere, tore out a piece of cloth, and put it on the prophet's mouth: "You are shouting like this now because you hope The subordinates or Frostwolves outside heard the noise and came to rescue them, but you don’t think I didn’t expect this, do you?”

"What did you do to them?!"

The chief's eyes were red, and spittle spurted out from his big mouth, which was like a spray humidifier when illuminated by the bonfire.

"There are more than 500 people, plus more than 400 wolves. I ask them all to sleep for a while. There is no danger to their lives." The human clapped his hands and sat beside the fire. He picked up the stick to stir up the firewood: "But what if If you don’t plan to listen to me, the result will be uncertain.”

The two orcs who had lost their fighting power looked at each other. The shaman whose mouth was sealed with tape could not speak and just kept shaking his head.

Orgrim was silent, thinking. After a few seconds, he spoke with difficulty:

"Who are you exactly? Why do you speak our language?"

"Don't you remember me? Chief Orgrim, think about it fifteen years ago in front of the Dark Portal, who defeated Medivh possessed by Sargeras? And who let you go?" Su Ming He removed his mask and revealed his face.

The orcs were stunned, and they did remember this powerful human being. Although Medivh was in a very wrong state at the time, the power of this human being was still vivid in his mind.

"It's you." The chief no longer had any intention of getting the hammer. He just leaned against the tent wall in a daze: "You haven't aged at all, and you are even stronger."

"Things like age are meaningless to me." Su Ming took out a bottle of wine from his pocket and threw it to him across the fire: "I went to Draenor not long ago to bring Nezul Al and his younger brothers were all killed, as well as Archimonde of the Burning Legion. I came here today to ask you if you are willing to return to your homeland? By the way, the Draenei have also left. They are willing to return all the land to you, but in the future, you need to return the bones of the Draenei ancestors in the Auchenai Cemetery."

"What? Really?"

There were complex expressions on Orgrim's face, including surprise, joy, and disbelief.

"No one really thinks that the Burning Legion is invincible, right? No, right?" Deathstroke smiled, took out a bottle of wine, opened it, tore off the tape on the prophet's mouth, and gave the bottle to him: "Anyway, I just Ask once, are you willing to go back?"

The orc's Adam's apple slid up and down, and there was silence for a while before anyone spoke.

"What conditions do you have?" Drek'Thar's beard had been torn off near his mouth, but the tears in his eyes were probably not from pain, but from excitement.

But he still retains his sanity and his shamanic wisdom.

Su Ming raised three fingers, swayed them in the firelight, and took a sip of wine: "Three conditions: no more invasion of Azeroth. In the future, we can only conduct commercial trade with Wilson Enterprises, and let Varok Saurfang Become a warchief.”

Although there are some doubts about where the humans know the news about their deputy, this condition is not too harsh. After all, the tribe has been defeated and it is impossible not to pay the price.

"I agree! But there are more of our compatriots who are locked up in the asylum. I have to take them home. The devil's blood no longer affects us as time goes by. They can be saved."

Orgrim approached the fire and imitated the death knell, unscrewing the wine bottle, his eyes bright.

"No problem, but they have killed many people. You need to come up with something to buy their lives and compensate the families of the deceased." Deathstroke also agreed and took out a piece of paper with a price list written in the orc language. : "My Wilson Enterprise will act as a secret middleman to buy back your people from the Kingdom of Lordaeron. Gold, animal skins, timber, and ores can all be traded."

With that said, he handed the quotation to the prophet next to him and asked him to read the content on it.

Why paying for the lives of the families of the war victims is just a pretense for doing business. Su Mingcai didn't bother to count who died in whose family. These materials still had to fall into his own hands, and he would take back 40K Earth for infrastructure construction or deep processing before trading.

So the quotation is almost the same across the board.

An orc child needs to exchange for five pieces of fur that can cover his body size; an orc woman needs to exchange for a piece of fine gold or black iron or true iron ore of a similar volume to her own body; an orc warrior needs to exchange his own weight of krypton. gold in exchange.

Of course, if you don't have any ore, you can exchange it for something else. Anyway, someone will be there to handle it.

This offer is neither expensive nor cheap. After the orcs return to Draenor, they have plenty of resources.

As long as the uncorrupted Mag'har orcs continue to work, they should be able to exchange all the prisoners in a few years.

The prophet passed the paper with trembling hands and turned it over to look at it. There was nothing deceptive on it. This transaction was very fair. At least it was a good deal for warriors. Wasn't it just a stone?

He nodded to the warchief and handed over the paper, indicating that he thought he could agree to it.

Orgrim only took a cursory glance and nodded with a smile. He did not expect that there are such fair and powerful people among humans. His impression of Deathstroke has greatly improved.

To be precise, I was overjoyed when I learned that I could get Draenor back, let alone defeat the Burning Legion.

Naturally, the Legion has not been eliminated, so if the orcs want to live in the future, they may have to rely on the Wilson Enterprise that Deathstroke mentioned.

But the other party only requires trade, and does not require souls like the Burning Legion. This is of course no problem.

If there is any sacrifice, it is that Orgrim needs to give up his position as warchief, but Saurfang is also a member of the Blackstone clan, and he is also his favorite deputy. This is equal to the left hand over the right hand, and even counts Not under any stringent conditions.

"Thank you, human warrior, your heart is full of honor and mercy. On behalf of the tribe, I agree to your terms."

The orc chief stretched out his big hand and lowered his head sincerely.

Su Ming stretched out his hand and held the opponent's elbow, feeling that the big hand had done the same thing. This was the contract between the orcs. A warrior would never regret what he said.

"Okay, I can advance some money to help you replace Thrall's second-generation chiefs. My fleet is already on standby in the orbit of Azeroth. They will send you back to Draenor, but if you break the contract , believe me, if I am angry, I will be much more terrifying than Sargeras..."