Chapter 445 Provocation

"Pah!"

Imar spat heavily.

"I, the great Imar Stonemason, have fallen to the point of dealing with dirty and stupid orcs in person."

His stomach was bulging, as if filled with resentment, and even the small braids on his chin were trembling.

"Stonemason clan, your king will sooner or later return to the throne and take back the power he should have held, and then those traitors will get the punishment they deserve."

Imar kept swearing, swearing on his surname, swearing on his hammer, and even swearing on his favorite beard.

In this state, he came all the way to the small wooden house that Barash told him about, pushed the door open roughly, and said carelessly: "Gunther, you have... well, who are you? Where is Gunther?"

The layout of the house is quite simple, with a small wooden table and four stools made of logs, which are all the furnishings.

But there is no son of the chief of the Blood Bull Tribe he is looking for.

Sitting next to the wooden table was an old orc who was unfamiliar to him, and two young orcs who were equally unfamiliar to him stood behind him.

The old orc stared at him, as if he was looking at him carefully.

Imaer felt uncomfortable being looked at by him, and he coughed and said: "Ladies and gentlemen, I seem to have entered the wrong house, sorry."

Then he turned around and left.

"No, you didn't come to the wrong house. The young patriarch of the stonemason clan."

The old orc's words shocked Imaer.

"How do you know..."

"Haha! You dwarves can't seem to keep any other secrets except the secret of how to enter the mountain, especially after drinking." The old orc smiled slyly.

Damn it! Imaer thought to himself, there are three more people in the world who laugh at me. No, maybe there are a large group of green-skinned long-haired cubs?

Orcs, these barbaric guys, are even less reliable than dwarves in keeping secrets, not to mention that they don't treat other people's secrets as secrets at all. They are rude, uneducated, and like to use other people's pain as a joke.

Maybe his deeds have been "sung" all over the prairie?

"I don't know what you are talking about!" He planned to play dumb. Dwarves and orcs don't live together, so these barbarians can say whatever they want.

But it seems a little late.

"Imaer, you are the eldest son of the former chief of the Stonemason Clan. But because you disobeyed your father, you were driven out of the Stonemason Clan and had to cross mountains and ridges to seek refuge in the nearby Hammer Tribe. Am I right?"

The old orc's words pierced Imaer's heart like a knife, and his beard and the braids on it almost swelled. The muscles on his arms bulged high, and his fisted fingers made a clacking sound.

"Damn it, I really regret not bringing a hammer or an axe in now. Open your old bald head. There must be something as big as a peach pit in it."

The two young orcs looked at each other, smiled contemptuously, and didn't move a step, which made Imaer even more angry.

"Oh, poor Imaer. You should learn to respect those older than you."

The old orc's eyes were filled with pity, "But I forgive you because I sympathize with you. I know that what you have suffered is not a simple exile. You are banned from entering the territory of your clan for life. Your inheritance rights have been deprived. When the man you call your father dies, the person sitting on the seat of the clan leader will be your younger brother."

"That's not my younger brother!" Imaer yelled, he was stimulated. "It's just a piece of dirty soil picked up from some ravine."

"Oh, poor Imaer." The old orc said cruel words in a pitiful tone, "No matter how much you shout here, you can't change the facts. You are just a waste who lives under someone else's roof, relies on the protection of relatives to survive, and spends his days immersed in alcohol and illusory delusions."

"You!" The dwarf Imaer's veins were exposed.

Eugene clapped his hands gently, "The Hammer Tribe's arrangement for the waste is reasonable, haha! Look, aren't you sent to deal with the Gunther they hate? Barash is really your good cousin."

"This has nothing to do with Barash and the Hammer."

"You are such a generous person, 'Prince'. May I ask, have they sent any soldiers to help you go home so far? Have they sent any soldiers to help you regain your inheritance rights?"

Imar said impatiently: "Clans should not interfere with each other."

"Oh, even if you are their blood relative. The indifference of family affection between you dwarves is really beyond the imagination of us crude orcs! Look, your biological father treats you like this, and your uncle and cousin treat you like this." Eugene exclaimed exaggeratedly.

"Enough!"

No mistake in one post, one content, one book, one forum, one 6, one 9!

Imaer's patience reached its limit, and all the grievances, resentment, and anger that he usually felt suddenly emerged, and the negative emotions quickly gripped his entire heart.

The dwarf rushed towards the old orc like a mad bull, and his speed was so fast that the two young orcs standing behind Eugene had no time to react.

Imaer grabbed the orc's fur clothes tightly with both hands, and his huge strength allowed him to pull the other person down from his seat with just one hand.

Because of his height, Eugene was dragged on the floor with his legs curled up.

Eugene's two guards drew their weapons angrily, one holding a dagger and the other waving a mace, shouting at the dwarf to let Eugene go, otherwise the ignorant dwarf would not be able to leave the house.

"Back off!"

Eugene waved his hand to call his men back, and the two young orcs lowered their hands and took a step back, but still stared at Imaar with resentment.

Eugene's face was a little flushed, and his breath was a little disordered, as if Imaar's sudden move was also beyond his expectations. Is the son of a clan leader so impulsive?

Imaar looked at Eugene with a tangible angry look, "I know you are trying to sow discord. You bastards who are both obscene and disgusting, long-haired lowly species who don't care about sheep and horses, do you think the great Imaar can't see your clumsy tricks?"

"Calm down! The young chief of the stonemason tribe." Eugene had no doubt that if he provoked the other party again, the strong hands would break his neck without hesitation.

Although the dwarves were only as tall as the orcs' waists, their strength was no less than that of the orcs, so Eugene did not dare to be arrogant.

"The reason I came to you was not to sow discord. What I wanted to say was..."

Imar's eyes widened like copper bells.

"What the Stone Hammer Tribe cannot give you, the King's Tent of the Great Prairie can give you, and Chieftain Abar can give you!"