Chapter 201 Great Chief Orgrim (Part 1) (Qingbao Alex Reward)

Huge hands stained with blood and colorful brains, Orgrim displayed the most primitive and savage violence. The orcs can't help but think of their ancestors, how they used their strong physique, fists, teeth, and arms to fight against wild beasts without weapons, struggling to survive in the desolate wilderness.

Orgrim's most direct bombardment ignited the passion in every orc's heart.

"Oooo!"

"Orgrim! Orgrim!"

Just a few minutes ago, these orcs were angrily insulting Orgrim, but a few minutes later, Orgrim, who showed bravery and majesty, immediately became the brightest star of the entire tribe.

Kilrogg* Dead Eye opened his seemingly cloudy right eye, and said slowly: "Orgrim* Doomhammer, you have cleared your suspicion and restored your reputation! Now, If you withdraw from [Makgora], there is still time!"

Orgrim gave his actions instead of answers, taking bloody steps, pulling a banner from a tent on the sidelines.

That was the flag belonging to his Doomhammer in the Blackrock Clan.

With a wave of his hand, the battle flag with red background and black stripes crashed down to the middle of the field.

"I—Orgrim* Doomhammer! Start [Mak'Gora] here, and challenge for the position of Warchief! I will accept the challenge of at least six warriors! Until I ascend to the position of Warchief, or— -die!"

Even though he was stabbed multiple times, and even though every wound was still bleeding with Orgrim's activities, Orgrim's soul-stirring roar still spread throughout the camp.

"Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!" This is the rhythmic cheers of the orcs. Nothing makes their blood boil more than a bloody warrior participating in the battle of the war chief.

Even if they don't admit it, it is an indisputable fact that the tribe just won a tragic victory.

Weak humans are far more cunning than the orcs imagined, and the whole tribe urgently needs a real king who can lead the tribe to conquer this planet!

The orcs yelled and praised loudly, holding up the rough weapons in their hands, and stomped the ground with both feet, as if to shake the ground, and let the ground cheer for the new chief who may appear soon!

A clan battle flag with three teeth painted on it was thrown into the arena. It was a Saber clan with a thousand warriors.

As a small clan, Ramlin, the chief of the Saber Clan, was not a very strong orc. Among the orcs, he was definitely considered small and thin.

What he lacks in strength he makes up for with great agility.

"Orgrim—" Ramlin growled loudly, yet his movements were reminiscent of a nimble lynx. Aiming at Orgrim's injured right leg, Ramlyn moved at high speed around Orgrim's injured leg.

Orgrim was indeed affected. When he turned around and couldn't keep up, Ramlyn pounced on him.

Two intersecting scimitars flashed coldly, and there was an extremely scarlet cross bloodstain on Orgrim's broad back, and the flesh was torn open by the barbs on the scimitar blade, which was shocking!

Orgrim fought back when Ramlyn tried to back away with one blow.

In the sunlight, the heavy Doomhammer gleamed black as it spun. There are no tricks, only speed.

Incredibly fast.

Frantically fast.

That was beyond the speed that Ramlin's naked eyes could capture.

In the blink of an eye, his slightly slender body was directly divided into two halves under just one powerful blow, as if being hit by an extremely huge machete.

Time seemed to freeze, and Ramlin's chest and lower body were still suspended in the air, but the abdomen that was hit instantly exploded into blood rain of flesh and blood, and exploded in the direction of the hammer!

It seemed like three seconds had passed, and Ramlin, with unbelieving eyes, and the upper body carrying the eyeballs, fell slumped into a pool of blood.

Killed with one blow, full of arrogance!

"Next!" Orgrim's sonorous voice was no different from the beating of a drum to the orc's ears.

Another battle flag was thrown into the arena, and a minute later, Orgrim had another scar on his shoulder, and another corpse on the ground.

"Next!" The same one-shot kill, the same voice, the same tune that never changed.

However, under the foreshadowing of the corpses of the three chiefs, Orgrim's words took on a different meaning.

The chief, who considered himself weaker, responded with silence. At this moment, no one is left to chance. Although the orcs onlookers still looked enthusiastic. Among the people who were really qualified to participate in [Makgora], there was a brief silence.

It took a full half a minute before the fourth battle flag was lowered.

Three minutes later, the fifth side.

Ten minutes later, the sixth side!

When the seventh battle banner was thrown into the arena, Orgrim had become a blood man. No one could tell whether it was Orgrim's blood or that of his enemies.

None of the six chiefs had a whole body, and all of them had turned into bloody pieces of flesh.

From the little chief who was unknown at the beginning, to the chief of the ten thousand clan later. The challenger is upgrading step by step, and Orgrim's injury is also getting worse step by step.

Now, anyone who goes up must weigh his own weight first.

The seventh battle flag was thrown down, and what came out was a black-skinned orc with no left hand and a slender machete below the left arm.

Not because he lost his left hand during the war, but because he was a warrior of the Shatterpaw clan.

As one of the cruelest and most vicious orc clans in the tribe, the warriors of the Shattered Hand clan have a tradition of crippling their left hand and replacing it with a sharp blade, ready to go through fire and water for the glory of the clan at any time.

"Orgrim, you are indeed very powerful, but your journey to warchief will end with me, Kanad Bladefist."

Tribes are also divided into ranks. For small clans, only the chief has the right to challenge, but in large clans, those recognized warriors also have the right to challenge [Makgora]. For example, in 'history', Orgrim was the deputy chief of the Blackstone clan, which was equivalent to the deputy chief, challenged Black Hand, and succeeded in killing Black Hand.

Glancing at Kanad's Bladefist, Orgrim's rough face showed a bit of disdain.

"You can't, replace your chief Kargath."

"Hmph! You're tired! You're seriously injured! Orgrim!" Kanade took a sudden step forward.

"Your tolerance is only good enough to take advantage of seriously injured opponents." The sarcasm on Orgrim's face became more and more intense: "Yes! I'm tired and injured, but even if there are a thousand more guys like you, I can kill them all!"

Baglash... Guilty in creating a ritual? It's all the same as the original drama, so it's still writing wool... Dear readers, please don't be so straightforward. I was also drunk.