this infinite world

Orcs...

In the epic Middle-earth story, the origin of the orcs can be traced back to the dark ages of the First Age. At that time, the corrupted Valamyrkur tortured and twisted the elves with cruel means, thus giving birth to this eternally cursed race. The blood of these twisted creatures flows with the original darkness. As the eras change, their origins become more and more complicated - corrupted humans, mutated beasts, and the barbaric reproduction of this group themselves are constantly expanding this dark army.

From the fall of Angband to the sinking of Beleriand, from the rise and fall of Mordor to the smoke of the Battle of the Black Gate, these tenacious creatures, like shadows, have almost run through the entire history of Middle-earth. Even in the sacred wars fought by the Valar themselves, their ugly figures can always be seen wandering on the battlefield. Like the most tenacious cockroach, this race has survived three eras with amazing resilience, becoming the lingering nightmare of Middle-earth...

In the darkest years, the pale orcs were a very special group of people, representing a chilling betrayal. When the shadow of Melkor enveloped the elves he captured, most of the elves would rather suffer eternal torture than succumb to darkness, but there were still a small number of traitors who abandoned the light and took the initiative to kneel at the feet of the dark master...

Unlike their fellow brethren who were tortured and twisted, eventually degenerating and becoming ugly from the inside out, these elves who became traitors were able to retain their talents and powers, and passed them down from generation to generation. The bloodline that was eventually left behind was a dangerous existence called the Pale Orcs... They inherited most of the elves' power and affinity for energy, and were more cruel, cunning, and intelligent than ordinary orcs!
As the last pale orc in Middle-earth, Azog's strength has long been engraved in the bloody title of "the Blasphemer". In this Middle-earth continent where heroes abound, there are definitely not many strong men who can win this exclusive title... and Azog, who commands the orc army, entrenches in the ruins of the ancient dwarf kingdom, and almost wipes out the lineage of the Durin dwarves, is definitely worthy of this title.

But fate always likes to tear off the crown of the strong when they are at their most proud. Just when Azog was full of pride, an unknown dwarf warrior "Thorin Oakenshield" cut off his proud left palm in front of thousands of troops! At that moment, everything became a poisonous blade piercing the heart of this blasphemer. From then on, the deep hatred for the Durin dwarves turned into a poisonous fire running in his blood, burning his reason day and night.

Now, when Azog personally led the Orc army that covered the sky and the sun to return, he was only thinking about using the blood of the dwarf royal family to wash away the shame. He was determined to win this battle, because the number of Orcs he brought was not only seven or eight times that of the dwarves, but he also deliberately set up a siege network in advance, and he was determined to succeed in one fell swoop and completely wipe out this large number of Turin dwarves here...

...But now, what did Azog see?
He saw that the orc wolf riders, who should have been unstoppable, were now as ridiculous as moths caught in a spider web, unconsciously following the rhythm of the dwarves; he saw that the orc armies, which clearly had an absolute advantage in numbers and combat power, were now finding it extremely difficult to kill even a dwarf, and at most only wounded but not killed; he saw that his own orc wolf riders were like lost souls, inexplicably following the movements of the dwarves and being surrounded, unable to take care of both ends... Yes, more than five thousand dwarves surrounded at least thirty to forty thousand orc wolf riders!
--How can this be?

Asog was also a qualified commander who had experienced dozens of battles, big and small, but he had never seen or heard of such a scene before. He didn't even know why he, who had an absolute advantage just a moment ago, had fallen into such an embarrassing situation of being defeated. But the only thing he knew was that his army was doomed to fail, like a piece of meat on a chopping board, waiting for the enemy to swing the butcher knife...

But at this moment, Azog was filled with endless humiliation and rage. He had led a huge army to kill all the dwarves and wash away the shame of the past with the blood of his enemies. But now -

Power...if only there was power...if only there was power that could change all this!

Thinking of this, Asog's already ferocious face twisted in rage, and this thought gnawed at his sanity like a poisonous snake. At this moment, a voice darker than the abyss sounded quietly in his ears, as if it came directly from the whisper of the Nine Nether Hell -

"Do you crave power?" "Creating the power to tear everything apart and kill everything?"

When the whisper sounded in his ears, the blood vessels under Azog's pale skin suddenly bulged, and a tremor from the depths of his blood swept through his body. The deep hatred for the Turin dwarves was like a wildfire poured with hot oil, burning his remaining rationality: "Yes, I long for..."

Azog's hoarse voice was filled with the most primitive killing intent, and his pupils reflected the orc army retreating step by step on the battlefield. In his eyes, the agile figures of the dwarf warriors all turned into the enemies who cut off his left palm that year.

"As long as I can crush these damn dwarven bastards..."

Azog's fangs bit his lips, and blood dripped down his chin. His left wrist twitched like a spasm, as if responding to his master's boiling murderous intent: "Any price... no matter what!"

Just like the last shackles were cut off, the moment this thought came to Azog's mind, the whisper in his ear suddenly turned into a crazy laugh. The sound was like a cold breeze, but it was filled with creepy joy: "Then, as you wish--"

"Roar!!!"

Then, as all the Orc guards watched in horror, Azog suddenly let out a roar that tore through the sky. Countless hideous blood-red lines suddenly appeared under his pale skin, and the blood energy wrapped around his body instantly solidified into substance, tearing through the air with a piercing scream!

The next moment, Azog leaped high into the air and smashed into the dwarf army like a meteorite. The gust of air that erupted when he landed directly blew away more than a dozen soldiers around him. No one was able to match him wherever he passed... and in those bloodshot pupils, there was only the purest desire to kill!
"This is... Dou Yuan?"

At this moment, Nian Xikong, who had been ordered by Chu Hao to wait for the opportunity to respond to the attack from the God Team from somewhere, stood up suddenly, her pupils shrinking sharply. She stared at the surging blood-colored energy on the body of the blasphemer Azog, and her voice was filled with rare shock.

"A fourth-level expert?!" (End of this chapter)