Anduin Lothar stands on the top of this isolated island.

Looking at the series of newly built bunkers on both sides of the mountain road, Anduin was at a loss for what this improvised defensive line would do.

"We have a month's worth of rations, more than 150,000 arrows, 1,000 spare armor sets for this......" the logistics officer was reporting to Anduin.

But Andul was restless because of this.

The logistics are not strong, this is a helpless thing, I can only hope that the weather will improve in the future.

"If it can be dragged until midsummer, the road should be much easier......

However, the scene on April 3 made the entire Stormwind Kingdom high-level silent.

The nobility also sent a number of people to participate in the war. Or brave men like Duke Berval Vortagen, or forced to be sent to the front by his family, or seeking political capital. Anyway, on the two nameless peaks of Red Ridge Mountain, there are two dukes, four marquises, and eleven counts of the Storm Kingdom, and the middle and lower nobles can't be counted.

In front of these nobles of the Stormwind Kingdom, who had been at ease for nearly a thousand years, what was reflected in their vision was an incomparably terrifying and barbaric army.

At first, the shouts of killing were like a faint frolic sound in the distance in the morning mist. But the moment the green line appeared on the opposite peak, the earth-shattering sound and the violent beating of drums rushed to the face like a huge wave. The sound was so loud that it felt like someone was slashing the ear drums of every nobleman present with a knife and axe.

The green flood easily stained the entire mountain peak opposite, and it was an innumerable number of green giants. They were burly and wielded a jumble of primitive weapons, and their terrifying numbers easily exceeded the psychological limits of the nobles.

10,000 here? Or 100,000?

The green tide stained several peaks on the opposite side, and the battle line that spread out easily exceeded the entire horizon of the nobles, let alone just three or four peaks, and it felt that if the battle line was stretched ten times, it would be impossible to accommodate so many orcs to attack at the same time.

They push and bump into each other, and even punch their compatriots who stand in their way. But there are so many of them that anyone with a phobia of density is crazy about them.

The green waves are so crazy that they seem to engulf everything in their path with a furious momentum.

Lothar gritted her teeth, as if trying to record every orc flag with her own eyes. Unfortunately, he only had to give up after copying the third ghost-like flag.

There are too many flags and too messy, even if the orcs are holding the banner of the same tribe, because the painting is too bad, it seems that this is the flag of several clans, and only the 'smart orcs' can clearly distinguish which clan and which clan.

Between the V-shaped twin peaks and the opposite peaks, there is a large canyon. After Lothar's calculations, it was just the range that a human bow and arrow could reach.

Lothar had been confident that the place would become a dead place for the enemy. Now, Lothar's face had changed.

The soldiers in the bunker halfway up the mountain did shoot a large number of arrows, and the overwhelming number of arrows did hit the vanguard of the orcs.

But only a handful of orcs fell.

Didn't the bow miss?

No!

I did shoot it.

But what did Lothar and the nobles see in the monoculars?

Crazy orcs.

They saw with their own eyes that an orc had at least twenty arrows in the chest, shoulder, and face, but the green-skinned orc flicked his arm in front of him as if he were a fly, and swept all the arrows down or pulled them out and still on the ground.

His right eye was blind, his flesh had been turned open, and arrows had hooked large chunks of flesh, leaving his entire upper body with huge blood holes the size of more than ten wrists.

But the orc charged forward frantically, roaring and rushing towards a bunker, smashing the outer walls of the masonry with his huge hammer, which was several times larger than a man's head, dragging a wailing soldier out of the bunker, and tearing the soldier in half in front of the remaining defenders.

The soldier didn't die on the spot, and at the frantic laughter of the orc, the upper half of his body, which had lost his lower body, crawled several meters on the ground before he breathed.

This scene made Lothar and the nobles shudder.

All the fortifications, like sand castles on the beach by the sea, collapsed when they were washed away by the green waves.

Shoot the arrows!

Orcs are tough.

Falling rock......

Lothar saw with her own eyes a stone the size of a millstone fall, and she was about to smash an orc rushing up against the mountain into meat sauce, do you know what happened?

The orc used his arm thicker than a cow's leg and a swinging fist to shatter the big rock!

The storm soldier who saw the stone was stunned, and in such a stunned moment, the orc had already crawled in front of the soldier with great speed, and a huge and thick arm reached over, grabbed the soldier's hair and head, pulled the soldier out of the parapet wall, and threw him down the mountain.

The laughing orcs halfway up the mountain slashed the soldier in two with an axe the moment he fell and passed by.

This provoked even louder laughter from the orcs.

The orcs are a bunch of bloodthirsty and warlike maniacs!

Anduin Lothar's face turned blue, and he knew that anyone could see that the army of the Stormwind Kingdom had to retreat, and the war was irreparable.

"Order, the whole army retreats!"

There was nothing wrong with the order to retreat. In this situation, as long as the commander is a little more sensible, he knows that he can't fight. But how to withdraw is also a delicacy.

Everyone scattered in a hurry, which would turn the retreat into a rout, and under the urgent pursuit of the energetic orc army, it would easily turn into a rout, and the soldiers who could eventually return to Stormwind City would only be afraid of one out of ten.

The nobles all cast burning eyes on Lothar's handsome, pained face.

Lothar almost gritted his teeth and said, "It's the griffon army that is broken!"

On a blue-background, gold-rimmed flag, a golden griffin clutches a sword with each of its hind paws. This is the Griffon Legion.

The First Legion of the Stormwind Kingdom in the eastern region of the Elwyn Forest.

Its history can be traced back to the direct guards of the Tempest Kingdom, the founder of the Kingdom of Stormwind, a descendant of Emperor Soladin, who led his people south to the rich Elwyn Forest.

It had participated in the First Stormwind Kingdom's founding war, and the Elwyn Forest was far less peaceful than it is today. There were still a lot of trolls in the forest back then. It was the heroic battle of the griffin army that drove the trolls all the way south, across the twilight forest, to the miasma-ridden Valley of Thorns.

This is an army that has inherited the iron will of the founding fathers.

Yet, today, in the here and now, Lothar wants to bury it in this hopeless war. It's not because he has to keep the damned aristocratic private soldiers, but in the entire army, only the griffon legion can complete the broken mission.

Any general who knows the army knows that no matter how badly a legion is beaten, as long as there is one-tenth of the veterans left, then the military spirit of this legion can be passed on, and its prestige can continue.

But after seeing this scene, Lothar knew that the Griffon Legion would be gone forever, and that its prestige, its proud history, would be completely wiped out in this boring crimson canyon.

Because, under the siege of tens of thousands of orcs, it is impossible for the human infantry regiment, which is more than inferior in physical strength, speed, and agility, to get rid of the pursuit of the orcs.