Amidst the chaotic sounds of battle, the human breakout force was like a red-hot branding iron, searing a path through the greenskin horde.
Cavalry led the charge, their sabers flashing; any orcs in their way were either dismembered or knocked flying by the warhorses. A phalanx of spearmen followed closely, their dense spear tips piercing the charging hobgoblins one by one. Blood dripped down the spear shafts into the mud, forming dark red streams.
Although the greenskins counterattacked fiercely, they simply couldn't stop the well-trained human soldiers.
An orc charged the cavalry with a axe, but was cleaved across the waist by a saber as he leaped, his body splitting in two, internal organs and blood spilling onto the ground. Several hobgoblin archers shot arrows at the cavalry, but they were blocked by the soldiers' shields, and the archers were then cut down by the cavalry's return swings.
Kurzadh tried to lead the remaining hobgoblins to intercept from the flank, but after only a few steps, he was targeted by two cavalrymen. Sabers whistled as they came down, and he could only roll clumsily to dodge, acquiring a new wound on his shoulder.
"Damn it! We can't catch them!" Kurzadh watched the human forces gradually disappear into the woods on the east side, so angry he punched a nearby tree trunk, making the leaves rustle and fall.
The greenskins were still roaring and throwing stones in the direction of the human retreat, but they could only watch helplessly as they ran further and further away, eventually disappearing completely into the night.
The fighting finally subsided, and the camp fell into a dead silence, with only the heavy breathing of the greenskins and the groans of the wounded remaining.
Just then, a light green light screen suddenly popped up before his eyes, and the system's cold prompt sounded in his mind:
"Congratulations, host, for completing the battle: Hard-Won Victory."
"Completed hidden quest: Cunning hobgoblins (Utilize terrain and orcs to tie down the enemy, achieving the tactical goal of overcoming the strong with the weak)."
"Reward: Night hobgoblins tribe implantation (Night hobgoblins can be generated in the mushroom field within the territory, and Night hobgoblins tribes will be attracted), gained trait: Poison Coating (hobgoblin weapons can be coated with homemade poison, reducing enemy movement speed), gained 187 Waaagh! points."
"System comment: hobgoblins who love ambushes are Gork and Mork's favorite!"
Kurzadh was stunned for a moment, then a hint of joy flashed in his eyes.
Although the losses were heavy, the system rewards came at just the right time! Night hobgoblins excel at night ambushes, which perfectly fills the tribe's deficiency in scouts. The Poison Coating trait is even more practical; with poisoned hobgoblin weapons, even if they can't defeat an enemy, they can still tie them down with poison.
These two rewards alone were enough to elevate the tribe's combat power by a notch.
Kurzadh stood up, leaning on his iron axe, and surveyed his surroundings. The sight before him made his heart sink—the muddy ground was piled with bodies, about fifty human soldiers' corpses, some disfigured by cuts, others torn apart by orcs, their chainmail scattered nearby.
There were even more orc corpses, over a hundred, their green skin stained dark brown with blood, some still holding their weapons in a defiant pose, dying with their eyes open. As for the hobgoblins he brought, from an initial one hundred and thirty-odd, only fifty-odd remained, mostly archers hiding in trees or on high ground; the spearmen were almost completely wiped out.
"Boss, we... we suffered too many losses," Dragu walked over, clutching his bleeding shoulder, his voice trembling.
The hobgoblin archers around him also looked exhausted, some with empty quivers, others wounded, their eyes full of lingering fear as they looked at Kurzadh.
Kurzadh nodded silently, but his mind was calculating—although the losses were heavy, at least nearly two hundred orcs were released, and over a hundred were still alive. If he could subjugate them, the tribe's strength would not only recover but also reach a new level.
But before he could speak, a malicious gaze fell upon them.
Those orc captives, who had previously shared a common enemy, were now surrounding the hobgoblins, their green skin taut, their red eyes gleaming with greed and ferocity.
Some orcs stared at the bows and arrows in the hobgoblins' hands, others licked their lips, sizing up the hobgoblins' physiques, clearly not taking these greenskins , half their height, seriously.
One burly orc even stepped forward, stomping on a hobgoblin corpse on the ground with a crisp "Crunch," looking provocatively at Kurzadh.
"Everyone, stop!" Kurzadh suddenly raised his iron axe and shouted.
He knew that if he showed weakness now, these orcs would absolutely attack them without hesitation—greenskins always believed in "might makes right"; without strength, even saving them would only make them prey.
"My name is Kurzadh, and I'm the one who led my people to smash open the prisoner carts and save you!" Kurzadh's voice echoed through the empty camp, carrying an undeniable authority. "Now, are you willing to follow me? Follow me, and you'll have meat to eat, battles to fight, and you'll become stronger!"
As soon as he finished speaking, a burst of laughter erupted from the orc crowd.
"Hahaha! You little runt? You want us to follow you?"
"Are you even big enough for one of our punches?"
"Don't dream! Little hobgoblin, hand over your weapons quickly, and maybe we'll spare your life!"
Kurzadh's face turned dark green with anger, and he immediately waved for the hobgoblin archers behind him to nock arrows, their arrowheads uniformly aimed at the orcs: "Do you dare say another word? Do you believe we'll shoot you dead right now?!"
The orcs' laughter stopped abruptly. Some orcs raised their weapons, others took a step closer, and the atmosphere instantly became tense.
Just as a conflict was about to erupt again, Kurzadh suddenly raised his hand to stop Kurzadh: "Don't be impulsive."
He understood the greenskin temperament too well—threats were useless, they would only provoke their wildness; only by proving his strength was superior to theirs could he make them submit.
Kurzadh took a step forward, his gaze sweeping over the orc crowd, and declared loudly: "You think I'm short, you think I'm weak? Fine! We'll follow the greenskin rules!"
He pointed at the orc crowd, his voice firm and clear: "Let the strongest orc among you come out and fight me one-on-one! If I lose, I and my hobgoblins will be your subordinates, at your beck and call. But if he loses, all of you must follow me and obey my commands! Do you dare?"
The orc crowd instantly fell silent, a hint of surprise flashing in their red eyes, which then turned to excitement.
Greenskins revered strength above all else, and the rule of settling ownership by single combat was more effective than any reasoning.
They looked at each other, and murmurs gradually arose: "This little hobgoblin has guts!"
"Dare to fight us one-on-one? I want to see what he's capable of!"
"Let me go! I can definitely kill him with one punch!"
Just then, a tall orc walked out from the crowd.
He was two meters three tall, even more massive than the other orcs, his greenskin covered in hideous scars, the most prominent being a knife scar across his forehead from his left eye to his right ear, looking particularly terrifying.
He pushed aside the blocking orcs, walked up to Kurzadh, and said in a deep, booming voice: "My name is Bone Tree, and I'll fight you!"
Kurzadh looked up at Bone Tree, silently calculating—Bone Tree's arm was thicker than his waist, and he held a stone club wrapped in a chain. Just standing there, he exuded a sense of oppression.
He looked around and saw that the other orcs had no objections, clearly acknowledging Bone Tree's strength.
Kurzadh nodded and said in a deep voice: "Good! I'll fight you! The arena is right here. Whoever falls first, loses!"
Bone Tree grinned, revealing two rows of sharp tusks: "Don't worry, I'll make your death quick!" With that, he raised his Kurzadh club and slammed it into a nearby prisoner cart. With a "Crunch," the thick wooden planks were instantly smashed into a large hole, and wood chips flew.
This was both a display of strength and a deterrent to Kurzadh.
The hobgoblin archers nervously clutched their bows, and Kurzadh couldn't help but shout: "Boss, should we all go together? This orc is too strong!"
"No need," Kurzadh waved his hand, his eyes, however, sharpened.
He knew that a one-on-one fight could only rely on himself; if he let the hobgoblins help, even if he won, these orcs would not submit. He took a deep breath and silently chanted: "System, use Shaman Magic—Leopard Speed, Bear Strength, Eagle Eye!"
"Shaman Magic 'Leopard Speed' activated: Movement speed increased by 50%, agility enhanced."
"Shaman Magic 'Bear Strength' activated: Strength increased by 80%, defense enhanced."
"Shaman Magic 'Eagle Eye' activated: Visual acuity enhanced, dynamic vision strengthened."
As the system prompts sounded, three faint green lights suddenly erupted from Kurzadh's body, swirling around him.
The first light was the phantom of a leopard, merging into his limbs, making his movements instantly agile. The second light was the phantom of a black bear, merging into his torso; his muscles visibly swelled, his already sturdy body growing a few inches taller, his beast-hide armor stretched taut.
The third light was the phantom of an eagle, merging into his eyes; his pupils slightly contracted, and everything around him instantly became clear—Bone Tree's subtle muscle tremors, the trajectory of his swinging Kurzadh club, nothing escaped his eyes.
The camp instantly fell silent, both orcs and hobgoblins watching Kurzadh in astonishment.
The mockery on the orcs' faces disappeared, replaced by shock—they had never seen any hobgoblin emit such light, nor had they seen a hobgoblin become so strong in an instant. The hobgoblin archers, however, erupted in cheers, and Kurzadh excitedly shouted: "Boss is awesome! Go, boss, go!"
Bone Tree's expression also became serious; he could feel that the little hobgoblin before him had suddenly changed—what was once like an ant in his eyes now exuded an aura that made his heart pound.
"I didn't expect you to be a Shaman!"
He tightened his grip on the stone club, his red eyes fixed on Kurzadh, no longer daring to show any contempt.
Kurzadh flexed his wrist, feeling the surging power within him, a confident smile playing on his lips.
He looked at Bone Tree, slowly raised the iron axe in his hand, his voice deepened by the magic's enhancement: "Come on, let me see how strong you really are!"
Bone Tree took a deep breath, no longer hesitating, and swung his Kurzadh club at Kurzadh.
the stone club whistled through the air, pressing down like a small mountain; if it connected, Kurzadh would undoubtedly be smashed to pieces.
All eyes in the camp were focused on this single combat that would determine their allegiance, and the air seemed to solidify.