Flames

Death Knights and Ogres—these were indeed two big cards, a pair of aces up the Horde's sleeve.

If the Alliance had been blindsided by these two forces, they would have definitely suffered heavy casualties, a bloody nose at best. But as a time traveler, Duke remembered at least 70% or 80% of most of history, like a well-worn book. When the surprise force is no longer a surprise force, then the so-called surprise force will only be a joke, a punchline in a bad comedy.

Duke raised his hands, a theatrical flourish, and shook his left and right index fingers towards the sky at the same time, like a conductor signaling an epic crescendo.

Windsor immediately understood, snapping to attention: "Send the message! Dalaran Mage Corps, get ready! Master Kel'Thuzad? Master Krasus?"

"No problem."

"I've been ready for a long time. Just give the word."

A positive reply came from the two archmages through the magic communication, their voices echoing with a hint of eagerness.

Below, the cavalry of both sides, locked in a fierce, desperate struggle on the ruins of Southshore, had already started a real, no-holds-barred fight.

"Send the order back!" Turalyon shouted to his nearest herald, his voice hoarse, who he knew would broadcast the order on his horn.

"Cover each other! Retreat outside the town and regroup!" The soldier nodded, then raised his horn, blew two short blasts, sharp and urgent, and then another long, drawn-out blast, a signal for withdrawal.

After hearing the call, the squad leaders began to shout orders to their own teams and gather their soldiers, trying to impose order on the chaos. In fact, this was not easy, especially in the chaotic situation where both sides were fighting fiercely, a swirling melee of steel and blood.

Fortunately, the Lordaeron cavalry had made arrangements early in the morning and had a very good tactical execution. They were well-drilled.

They took out chain hammers that resembled the hinged bullets used in cannons. This little thing with round metal balls at both ends and a chain in the middle was a simplified version of a tripwire. Throw it directly at the legs of the death knight's warhorse. Under the effect of inertia, the small ball would naturally revolve around the horse's legs, tangling them. He didn't care if it was a dead horse or a fire horse; its speed would still be reduced, hobbling it.

Most of the cavalry had escaped their opponents, with the Silver Hand responsible for covering the rear, their holy light a beacon in the darkness.

The Death Knights, who had not received any new orders, their minds simple and direct, chose to pursue, a relentless, unthinking charge. Just as the Alliance cavalry were pulling away from the Death Knights, bright lights flashed on the hills on both sides, a sudden, blinding display.

The Mage Group of Dalaran!

Even when the frontal battlefield was at its most critical moment, when the chips were down, Duke never sent out these killer-level wizards. Even when ogre mages appeared on the frontal battlefield and beat the Stormwind family wizards and Lordaeron's army wizards on the two hills to tears, Duke never used them. He was holding them back, saving them for the perfect moment.

Good steel should be used on the blade, not wasted on cannon fodder.

Duke thought that the battle between mages and warlocks was too boring, too predictable. If he wanted to use it, he should use it to destroy the opponent's elite, to truly cripple them.

It was only the second battle of the Dark Portal, and before the Scourge came, the Horde's death knights were very valuable, a precious commodity. Because the bodies of these death knights were the dead Stormwind Knights, but their souls were the warlocks killed by Gul'dan during Orgrim's purge, a twisted, unholy union.

Only these warlocks could allow the newly born Death Knights to easily master the dark magic.

No matter whether these warlocks were high-level warlocks or warlock apprentices, one less to die was one less. As long as they died here, the paladins could purify their souls later. Even Gul'dan, with all his dark power, could not resurrect them as death knights again!

The name of this operation is Blood of Orcs, and this is what it truly means!

Under the amplification of the war magic circle, a shimmering aura of power, the magic power and range of each mage in the mage group had been greatly increased. The money consumed by this magic circle alone was enough to arm a five-thousand-man infantry regiment. It was a costly investment, but worth every gold coin.

It's all worth it.

The huge fireballs that covered the sky and trailed long flames poured down from the hills on both sides, a fiery deluge. The spectacular scene attracted countless people's attention, drawing every eye. Even the Lordaeron cavalry and the Silver Hand paladins who were determined to retreat were speechless when they saw it, their jaws dropping in awe.

So gorgeous. So utterly devastating.

The clusters of fireballs released from both sides simultaneously were like two huge waterfalls of fire, easily crossing a distance of hundreds of meters and blasting towards the pursuing Death Knights!

The fireballs fell on the ruins of Southshore Town like a torrential rain, causing an effect beyond everyone's imagination. Southshore Town, which had already become extremely dilapidated after the battle between Antonidas and Gul'dan, now came alive with the elemental life called flame, infused into every rubble, every piece of broken stone and rotten wood, and even the soil under the stone bricks of the town. It was a town reborn in fire.

Everything was roiling in flames, violently staining everything they touched with the color of fire, creating a scene that looked like the end of the world, a true inferno.

At first, the death knights who had lost consciousness were still riding their undead horses to chase the Alliance cavalry, mindless automatons, but soon they were engulfed by the explosion. The horrific explosion plowed the already ruined Southshore again, turning it into a deeper, more profound ruin.

After one salvo, there was nothing left that could stand in the flames. Nothing but ash and embers.

"Hahaha! Destroy, you dirty bones! Go back to your dusty graves!"

"Go to hell, and don't stand up again! Stay down!"

The Lordaeron cavalrymen vented their frustration at being suppressed just now, letting loose their pent-up rage. Even with the blessing of Uther's holy light, they could not fight like real paladins after all. This had nothing to do with martial arts; it was purely because they were suppressed by the enemy's evil power, their spirits weighed down.

Now, they are venting to their heart's content, screaming their defiance.

"Woo woo woo!" The horn sounded, a mournful, yet triumphant, call, calling on all the cavalry to retreat.

"Further retreat!?" Turalyon frowned, confused. They were winning!

Lothar laughed loudly, a booming, joyous sound: "Hahaha! Duke is such a greedy boy, a true glutton for victory, but I like it! Hahahaha! He's got a plan, and it's a good one!"

Over there, Duke directly contacted Gina Goldensword through magic communication, his voice urgent!

"Lady Goldensword, what's going on with Admiral Daelin? Is he ready?" Duke asked anxiously, a knot of anticipation in his stomach.

"Here it comes!" Gina replied, her voice ringing with excitement.

Almost in response to Daelin's confident answer, the sails of the Kul Tiras fleet appeared at the far end of everyone's sight, a majestic, terrifying sight.

The orcs were alarmed, a collective gasp of dread rippling through their ranks.

Almost every Orc commander realized, with a sickening lurch in their stomachs, that they were in big trouble. They had walked right into a trap.

That's right, the coastline on the Southshore side was the widest and most suitable for landing warfare. The problem was that if the attack failed, then hundreds of thousands of orcs would all be crowded on this narrow and slender coastline, packed in like sardines in a death trap.

This would be the best target for the fleet's naval guns! A shooting gallery!

On the flagship, Admiral Daelin was ecstatic when he saw so many tribes crowded on the beach, a sea of green, ripe for the picking: "Fire all the guns! Load grapeshot! I want to kill all these greenskins! Leave no stone unturned!"

It was morning, with a favorable wind and high tide, which was perfect for the Kul Tiran fleet using sails. The elements were on their side.

The sail, which was originally just a tiny shadow, was rapidly expanding in everyone's field of vision, growing into a monstrous, terrifying presence.

The Alliance's position suddenly erupted with cheers loud enough to overturn the entire world, a roar of triumph that shook the very foundations of the earth.

"Long live!"

"Blast those green bastards to death!"

"Don't even think about charging at us! Just stay down there and take the bombardment! You asked for it!"

The Horde launched a desperate charge, a last-ditch effort, trying to break through the hill's defenses. Even the ogre mages were in the charge, their crude spells flying, but the mage group in Dalaran suppressed the ogre mages well, their arcane might overwhelming.