Duque 'speech continued.
"But we're also very lucky. Azeroth is the only planet in the vast universe that has a powerful planetary protection spell formation. As long as the spell formation is still functioning, we don't have to worry about the strongest demons of the Burning Legion breaking into Azeroth. Archerons can't, Kil 'jaeden can't, and even Sargeras can't.
"Let's work hard. If we don't want our descendants to be enslaved by demons, and if we don't want our homeland to be destroyed again, we can only work together."
Duque's words were like a giant hammer pounding on the hearts of every chief. It was thought-provoking.
If Duque had said this during the first battle at the Dark Portal, he would probably have been laughed at.
But after experiencing so much, especially after Mount Hyjal, the Tribe had a deep understanding of how powerful and terrifying the enemy was.
Duke's seemingly overly magnanimous action was ultimately determined by the huge difference in realm and vision between the leader of the Alliance and the leader of the Horde. In front of the Burning Legion, a super powerful enemy that would become almost impossible to resist if they were not careful, the grudges between the Alliance and the Horde were nothing more than child's play.
"Duque, we understand. Let the Alliance and the Tribe continue to work together to resist the Burning Legion. " Thrall punched himself heavily in the chest. "I swear that as long as the Alliance doesn't break the covenant, the Tribe will be the Alliance's ally."
Duque nodded. "I also swear that as long as the Tribe doesn't break the covenant, the Alliance will not take the initiative to attack the Tribe."
One pair was big, one was small.
Four hands with completely different styles were tightly clasped together.
"Thrall, you know that I've become a demigod of the Weave. I really can't leave now. As for the specific matters of the expedition to the Outer Realm, Varian Wrynn will come to discuss with the Tribe later. "
"Okay!"
When Duque and Thrall finished discussing the big issues, Grom suddenly stood up.
"Yo, old friend, what's wrong?" Duque asked with a smile.
The famous Lord Howl … was old.
Time had left a deep mark on this legendary hero who had experienced three battles at the Dark Portal, Mount Hyjal, and Ahn 'Qiraj.
Grom had lost an arm, and a lot of his hair had fallen off. He tied the rest of his hair into a messy bun and tied it behind his head like a spring onion.
His once resolute face was now full of wrinkles.
His white beard and even his body hair made one's heart ache just by looking at him.
Was this still the same Lord Howl who had sent Cenarius to the afterlife with a swing of his axe and instantly killed an Abyssal Lord?
Duque did not speak. His heart was filled with complicated emotions.
It was his intervention that prevented this legendary hero from dying before the Battle of Mount Hyjal.
It was also because of his actions that he truly understood what it meant to be a hero past his prime.
In the entire battle of Ahn 'Qiraj, Grom did not perform well at all.
Perhaps letting Grom die as he did in history was the best ending for an incomparably courageous Orc warrior.
On the surface, Duque was expressionless, but his heart was filled with regret.
Grom caught Duque's thoughts very well.
Grom Hellscream was never a sensitive person. When a person got older, they would see many things that they could not see when they were young.
Grom's face suddenly twitched. His shoulders trembled, but he still spoke. His voice was filled with a strange power, as if it brought everyone back to the long river of history.
"The first half of my life I fought for the clan, and the second half for the tribe.
"I've made many mistakes — I was the first to drink demon blood and massacre humans. I even accidentally killed the demigod Cenarius, causing the tribe to fall into a passive position …
"I've been in pain, lost, and lost myself in the demon blood addiction.
"But I've never regretted it, because I swore that for the rest of my life, I would cut down the tribe's enemies with my axe.
"Now it seems that I'm not far from achieving this goal."
When Grom said this, all the chiefs, including Sal, fell silent.
Grom's battle strength was declining, visible to the naked eye. His movements were sluggish, and his strength weakened. As a result, he was no longer the spearhead of the tribe's attacks.
This was the inevitable outcome for every Orc warrior who did not die on the battlefield.
In the past, everyone had seen too many warriors like this. Normally, they would even fight to be the vanguard in order to end themselves.
Or they would challenge a publicly recognized powerful monster to prove themselves, or they would forever disappear from the sight of their own kind.
Grom longed for the final glory, but he could never get it.
Even the true deity C 'Thun had died, but he was still living in this world.
This time, he had suffered some internal damage. Even the holy light and shaman's power could not heal him. Healing magic could repair the body, but it could not fight against aging.
He was almost 60 years old.
Orc warriors were usually bad at math. Even he did not know how old he was. But this age, even for shamans who rarely went to the front lines, was extremely old.
It was foreseeable that if there was a next battle, his performance would be even worse.
Sal could vaguely guess why Grom's actions were like this.
Grom turned around and said to Sal, "Great chief, I'm old. It's very likely that I can no longer serve the tribe."
Sal wanted to comfort Grom, but he did not know where to start.
Beside him, Orgrim's mouth twitched for a while. Perhaps he wanted to persuade him to become a Death Knight, but Orgrim remained silent.
An old and frail Orc hero, even if he became a Forgotten Warrior, would not be very strong.
Orgrim himself was the best example. His current strength could not be compared to his strength 22 years ago.
Thrall finally let out a long sigh. "Grom, you did a good job. The tribe thanks you for your 20 years of fighting. If there's anything else you want to do, go ahead and do it. "
"Thank you, great chief!" Grom knelt on the ground and kowtowed heavily.
When he stood up again, there was no longer any confusion on his face. He turned to look at Duque.
"Orcs will take revenge and repay kindness. I owe you my life. It seems that I will never be able to repay it in this lifetime. "
"You don't actually have to …" Duque stopped mid-sentence. He saw Grom's fiery eyes.
"My life belongs to the tribe. Before my life ends, even the last second, it has nothing to do with you, Duke Marcus. But from the moment my life ends, I swear that my soul will belong to you. As long as it is not against the tribe, you can order me around forever. I, Grom Hellscream, will never complain! "
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