Chapter 875: Chapter 184: The Feast of Slaughter_2
And as the war rages on, the orcs have not even encountered the Empire’s guard directly, only been unilaterally slaughtered.
…
“Great Chief, the spell power of the Ashen Empire is too overwhelming. Should we… retreat for now and avoid the sharp edge?” On the hill, a Clan Leader lowered his head, cautiously inquiring.
Gazing at the billowing smoke across the sky and the sea of fire engulfing the land, Solo, being the Great Chief, extended his hand and resolutely shook his head, his tone grave: “No, we must never retreat.”
He raised his head, looking at the bipedal wyverns skimming the skies, and said: “Such extravagance, no wonder they managed to conquer North Aisier, the High Mountain Kingdom. To think those arrogant spellcasters would be assigned to such tasks.
However… this intensity of spell bombardnt cannot last long. Even if every person on the wyverns is an Archmage, it is impossible for them to sustain releasing such a high volu of Fla Spells intensely.
We can absolutely use the lives of the advance troops to deplete their magic, reducing the pressure for our subsequent offensives.” Solo’s tone brimd with confidence.
But there was one special reason he did not voice aloud: In the dictionary of green-skin orcs, the word “retreat” does not exist.
Even if he issued the order, those war-frenzied green-skin orcs would likely refuse to obey, shouting “Waaagh!” as they charged into the sea of fire — moreover, he himself possessed this bloodline, fully aware of the frenzy surging in the heart.
Solo clearly knew: his prestige was far from sufficient to alter the nature of millions of green-skin orcs.
Most orcs rely respected and feared his strength, recognizing him as their nominal “boss.”
However, if given a chance to usurp him, these simple-minded, physically powerful green-skin orcs would not hesitate to swarm him and tear him to shreds.
Upon hearing Solo’s words, the Clan Leader next to him suddenly understood and exclaid in delight: “That’s right, Great Chief! We can use the lives of the low-class orcs to exhaust their magical reserves!”
Another Clan Leader grinned widely and chuckled: “Those low-class orcs grow out of dirt anyway; their lives are even cheaper than weeds.”
Solo continued observing the battlefield and then raised his spear, pointing toward Aivendel, shrouded in dense smoke: “Everyone— that place shall eventually beco the land of the orcs.
The Empire’s spellcasters are indeed unparalleled in strength, but can they truly annihilate millions of low-class orcs? When they exhaust their power, that will be the mont the Red Blood Tribe advances!”
Solo then stood atop the hill, continuously waving his spear, roaring fiercely at the green-skin orcs: “My clanspeople! Keep charging forward! They can’t hold out much longer!
Once the flas from the skies disappear, you can rush into that fortress and plunder it of those wealthy humans and dwarves!”
“Waaaagh!”
Upon hearing Solo’s words, the morale of the green-skin orcs surged, and they wielded their crude bone rods and stone spears, charging toward the battlefield ablaze with flas.
The orcs never feared death; their only fear was having no clubs to strike with, nothing to loot, no one to kill!
In the current Red Blood Tribe, those green-skin orcs born from the soil were labeled as “low-class orcs,” despised by the blood beastn due to their sheer numbers and weaker strength.
So pure-blood orcs, unable to tolerate the “low-class orcs'” deviation from tradition, proactively maltreated, beat, or even slaughtered the green-skin orcs.
In the storyline of the previous life, Big Teeth led the green-skin orcs in initiating the “Bloody Uprising,” massacring all the pure-blood orcs, thereby establishing the green-skin orcs as the orthodox rulers of Fianso and sparking the infamous “Orc Disaster” that shook the North.
But now, the ergence of the Ashen Empire has completely altered everything.
“Boom!”
Another deafening explosion rang out as bombs burst midair like torrential raindrops, causing the skies and the ground to quake violently, and the orcs wailed in anguish amid the inferno.
It was the fourth wave of bombardnt by the Aviation Corps, yet the green-skin orcs roared their battle cries, launching a new round of assaults.
…
Anzeta Great Wilderness, Dragon Blood Mountain.
The Red Dragon lay sprawling atop the mountain, stretching its wide wings, exhaling a puff of sulfurous white smoke, while the dragon crystal at its chest radiated beams of dazzling brilliance, as bright as the sun.
Cassius was still absorbing the divine power of the Sun God Amanata.
Within that golden brilliance, there was also a trace of dense earthy yellow light — divine power left behind on Du Masong’s descended avatar, primarily in domains of the earth, minerals, and such.
Cassius directly ordered his engineering team to excavate all the surrounding rocks, overturning the geological layers, while also extracting the lingering divine power.
Simultaneously, the Red Dragon’s eyes shimred faintly— he was using [Heaven’s Calamity Dragon Eye] to observe the Wuge Prairie battle, or more precisely, the massacre.
From Cassius’s overlooking perspective, the earth had transford into a raging sea of fire, endlessly devouring the lives of green-skin orcs, yet the orcs relentlessly charged forward.
However, he also keenly noticed that these orcs were gradually evolving!
While struggling within the flas, so orcs had spores attaching to their bodies, sprouting a tough protective mbrane to resist the onslaught of high temperatures. Still, those orcs eventually burned alive.
Witnessing this scene, even Cassius could not help but marvel: “Tsk, what a terrifying adaptability. In re seconds, they’ve developed mutations like these…
Indeed, such unreasonable creatures should be nipped in the bud during their infancy.” The Red Dragon clenched its claws, the cracking sound of joints rubbing together echoing crisply.
In his mory, the green-skin orcs modified by Abyssal Power were fully-fledged war machines. Their most frightening aspect was not their strength — but their mad will, formidable reproduction, and adaptability.
Newborn green-skin orcs were initially extrely frail, as fragile as plants, but soon their spores would multiply swiftly, evolving traits tailored to their environnt.
They were products of the depraved union between evil deities and The Abyss, born for slaughter and spreading chaos, genuine biological weapons.
Originally, these orcs were supposed to continually grow stronger in battle, evolving into dreaded incarnations of calamity.
But unfortunately for them, this ti they encountered Cassius, and his Ashen Empire under the command of the Red Dragon.
Fixing his gaze upon the battlefield shrouded in flas and smoke, Cassius’s pupils flickered as the power of Bloodline Gift transcended ti and space, delivering the Emperor’s decree to the Earth Goblin General far away—
“Derol, make it clean, and ensure these green-skin orcs are entirely exterminated. If necessary, destroy the soil they depend on for survival.”
At the peak of Flying Dragon City, Derol heard that grand and commanding voice, and imdiately knelt with fervent reverence, his heart pumping with hot blood, his expression turning exceedingly fanatical and excited.
No wonder Derol was so thrilled; after all, it was a directive personally issued by the Ashen Emperor— a direct transmission of the Great Red Dragon’s will!
Within the Empire’s vast, transdinsional territories, few had the privilege of receiving such an honor.
Even his imdiate superior— the Imperial Army Marshal, Minister of Military Affairs, and First-class Dragon Blood Duke Dolores— rarely received such commands. It was evident how seriously His Majesty Cassius regarded this matter!
And this also ant Derol could seize this opportunity to showcase his capabilities before the Emperor, potentially earning His favor.
Derol knelt and responded with resolute determination: “Yes, Your Majesty. I will accomplish the task and obliterate those orcs entirely, leaving not a single one!”
The Earth Goblin raised his head, looked out at the orcs swarming like tidal waves and dominating the horizon, and his golden eyes glead with nearly tangible killing intent, along with a deeply buried trace of greed.
For the Empire’s glorious cause, for the grand plans of the Red Dragon, and for my own illustrious future… you must all die, Derol thought resolutely.
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