While Lu Ming was overseeing the rapid construction of his new fortress and the strengthening of his draconian forces, in a distant corner of the Abyss, a very different scene was unfolding.
In the heart of a large, savage orc village, a group of orcs gathered in the central square. The village was bustling with activity—orc warriors sharpening their weapons, blacksmiths hammering out crude armor, and scouts returning from various parts of the Abyss.
Inside the chief's tent, an orc soldier, battered and exhausted, knelt before his leader.
"Chief Or'Gash," the orc scout reported, his voice trembling with both respect and fear, "a new threat has appeared to the west. We've spotted a growing settlement, and… it is ruled by draconians."
At the mention of draconians, Chief Or'Gash's face twisted into a sneer. His hulking form loomed over the scout, standing nearly three meters tall, his massive muscles rippling under his thick green skin. His eyes burned with anger.
"Draconians? Here?" Or'Gash spat. "The dragons are long gone from this land! No upstart lizards will challenge my rule."
The orc scout continued, his voice shaky, "Their forces are growing quickly, Chief. It's only a matter of time before they expand into our territory."
Or'Gash grunted, pacing back and forth. His village had thrived for years under his brutal rule, crushing weaker tribes and any monsters foolish enough to challenge them. But draconians were no small matter. If left unchecked, they could become a serious threat to his reign.
He bared his tusks in frustration before turning to his general, Gromak, who stood at his side, his dark eyes calculating and cold.
"Gromak," Or'Gash growled, "gather the warriors. We'll crush this new settlement before they even have a chance to rise."
General Gromak bowed deeply. "Yes, Chief Or'Gash. I will lead the charge."
Without wasting a moment, Gromak marched out of the chief's tent. His armor, crafted from the bones of fallen enemies, clinked as he moved. His scarred face bore the marks of countless battles, and his men feared and respected him in equal measure. He was ruthless and cunning—qualities that had served the orcs well for many years.
In the center of the village, Gromak raised his voice, "Prepare for battle! We march on the draconian settlement!"
The orc warriors, already hungry for combat, roared in excitement. They immediately began gathering their weapons—crude axes, jagged swords, and large shields made of thick hide and bone. Gromak assembled a force of 100 of their best warriors, determined to overwhelm the draconian settlement in one swift strike.
As they prepared to march, the air was thick with tension and the scent of iron. The orc village was a hive of activity, with warriors boasting about the spoils they would claim from the draconians, unaware of the true power they were about to face.
Gromak stood at the front of the assembled orc warriors, his sharp eyes fixed on the horizon. His mind was already planning the assault. A direct attack under the cover of night would catch the draconians by surprise, and with their numbers, they would crush them with brute force.
"Draconians," Gromak muttered under his breath, "we'll see how mighty you really are."
With a signal from Gromak, the orc army began their march towards the west, towards Lu Ming's newly established stronghold. The sound of heavy boots pounding against the earth echoed through the air, a war drum heralding the imminent clash between the orcs and the draconians.
Back in his tent, Chief Or'Gash watched his warriors leave with a satisfied grin. He was confident that Gromak would succeed in wiping out this new threat. He would not tolerate any rivals in his domain, especially not creatures tied to the dragons of old. With Gromak leading the charge, the draconians wouldn't stand a chance.
But little did Or'Gash know, the draconians were not as weak as he believed. And their leader, Lu Ming, was far more dangerous than he could ever imagine.
The march of the orc army had begun, setting the stage for an inevitable and brutal clash of forces.
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