Arthas was still unaware that he had gradually caught the attention of various kings. Even if he knew, he wouldn't care. Those willing to cooperate with him could achieve wealth together, while those unwilling would not be forced.
There is never enough money—earning alone is much better than earning with others. The Grayfang Clan is located in the southwest of Solliden Farm, where a range of towering mountains lies. Behind the mountains is the Abyss, and at the bottom of the cliffs is an endless sea.
This is a natural barrier that prevents maritime attacks; a position can be established here to strike enemies attempting to land at Solliden Farm. The continuous mountains are home to a multitude of beasts, including worgs, gnolls, and more. It was once said that wild monsters and other large, dangerous creatures roamed here, but they have all been eradicated. This place can serve as a supply base, but it must not allow the emergence of threatening dangers.
By the mountain, a gathering of gnolls had built up a primitive village; a bloodthirsty gnoll is draining the blood from a goblin and a human. In the open area, a large pot is set up over a fire, burning dry wood underneath. There are wooden spikes around the area, with corpses pierced and hanging from them, some still twitching. It seems there are also two trolls, their vitality making them exceptionally difficult to kill, enduring even more suffering.
"Hurry and throw the prey into the pot!" a gnoll with big tusks shouted at the other gnolls, a long scar running down from his forehead to his face, giving him an exceedingly ferocious look.
This is the boastful capital of the tusk gnoll; it is said he killed a human warrior in a life-and-death duel, exchanging injuries for victory. The tusk gnoll's style is vicious, and any gnoll daring to resist him has their limbs broken and is then thrown out to fend for themselves.
The horrific scenes of those who wailed as they were devoured by bears and leopards haunt every worg's nightmares. However, the tusk gnoll does have his capabilities, leading the clan to find many things to eat, ensuring a stable life without needing to forage for wild fruits or endure hunger, which is enough for the other gnolls to pledge loyalty.
Eating people, cooking them, and various other methods of consumption exist.
This is the gnoll: savage, brutal, and with a bit of cleverness. Compared to the gnolls who only know how to mine, wolves are certainly fiercer than dogs. Wolves travel miles for meat, while dogs travel miles for waste. Guided by Ogg, they proceed through the winding mountain roads and forest trails. Along the way, not a single gnoll is to be seen; it seems all have hidden away.
"Why are there no gnolls nearby?" Arthas asked Ogg, who was leading them.
"Recently, much fresh prey has been captured, so they don't need to come out to hunt. They should all be inside enjoying the spoils. The clan doesn't have guards; they just listen to the tusk gnoll." Ogg respectfully replied to Arthas.
The idea of a human commanding a dragon was beyond his comprehension. After walking for almost two hours, they continued to trek over mountains. Arthas never worried because Ogg's name was still green, indicating friendliness.
Plus, with the green dragon Emeriss transformed into an elf beside him for protection, there was nothing to fear. Resources here were indeed abundant; Arthas had already spotted several ores, herbs, and ingredients appearing. Ores could be used to forge weapons and armor, serving as raw materials for various metal weapons and ornaments.
Herbs can be brewed into various potions, and even alchemy with dragon ingredients can be concocted, though that requires a very high level of skill. Practicality cannot be denied, but it is true that you get what you pay for. Ingredients could be cooked into various delicious dishes, providing generous buffs after consumption.
There is a reason why Lordaeron is known as the wealthiest kingdom among the Seven Kingdoms; even the Kingdom of Stormwind cannot compare. If not for the invasion of the Undead Scourge, Lordaeron's dominant position might have remained unshaken for hundreds of years.
Thinking of this, Arthas instinctively tightened his grip on the longsword in his hand. Lich King, Shadow Realm!
"What's wrong?" Emeriss seemingly sensed his thoughts and turned to ask. A woman who had been claimed in such a way was indeed different, especially after being conquered for the first time, her spirit also becoming closer to him.
"Nothing, just thinking about some things." Arthas shook his head, looking at Calia's charming face; he would protect all of this! Protect everything!
"Mmm." Emeriss wasn't good at conversing and just nodded slightly. She had feelings for Arthas, but not love. Affection needs to be built over time, and love also requires maintenance like a bonfire; if you ignore it for too long, it will eventually fizzle out regardless of how hot the flames are. When the group arrived at a valley, the strong smell of blood made one involuntarily frown.
"Charge in!" Arthas waved his hand, signaling the guards to advance. The soldiers, who had endured the afternoon, pounced like tigers released from captivity, using their formation to cut through scattered worgs.
The gnolls, lacking any formation, were instantly pushed back, howling as they called for reinforcements. Soon after, a tall gnoll wielding a gigantic cleaver and bearing a fierce scar on his face emerged. The typical height of worgs ranges from 1.3 to 1.5 meters, while this one stood at nearly 1.8 meters, appearing somewhat like a crane among chickens.
"You worthless Ogg, how are you still alive? You dare bring humans here to seek death?" The tusk gnoll's teeth were indeed large, hefting the fearsome cleaver while glaring harshly at the traitor.
"You shameless scum! You stole my father's position to become chief; you're the real trash!" Ogg roared back, looking hatefully at the tusk worg, wishing he could kill him with his gaze since he could not match him in strength.
"Haha, trash is still trash. Do you see this, everyone? This is trash; I will twist his head off and use it as a wine jar!" Tusk roared menacingly at the other worgs. The worg clan operated this way; not only them but many savage races elected their chiefs similarly—only a strong chief can lead the clan to survive.
Coldly staring at the tusk worg, the worg in front of him was level 35, one level lower than him. His fighting capacity seemed terrifying, but against a paladin like him, he could only be suffocated and exhausted.
"Are you the chief of the Grayfang Clan? Let me ask, I am the commander of this unit; do you dare to duel with me one-on-one? If I win, you will die, and I will take your place. All gnolls can survive and join my side." Looking at the human corpses still bleeding, nailed to the wooden stakes in the distance, Arthas resolved not to let the tusk live. Such brutality was not enough to quell the anger of the commoners without killing.