To the orcs, the battle flag was extremely important. The battle flag was the pride of the orcs. It was their life. It could be said that the orcs would rather lose their lives than their battle flag.
Now, even their most important battle flag had been cut down and thrown to the ground. The bullfighting tribe felt as if the sky had fallen. They had lost the goal they had been fighting for. Many of the bullfighting tribe members had almost instantly given up resisting. They either stood there in a daze and were chopped to death by the mighty divine bull tribe's axes, or they had turned around and fled into the boundless grasslands. In such weather, they had nothing with them. Running into the grasslands alone was equivalent to courting death.
Even Weyers didn't expect the bullfighting tribe to be defeated so quickly. They didn't even have to fight before they won. All that was left was to kill the bullfighting tribe members with their weapons.
