"Turu!!!" he roared the old shaman's name, his voice distorted with extreme rage, "Why?! I have treated you well! By the Beast God, how dare you betray the royal court, betray me?!"

Turu did not answer immediately, but simply watched Grom's futile struggle as if he were watching a ferocious beast trapped in a snare.

After Grom's panting subsided slightly due to his rage, Tulu's hoarse voice, like the friction of withered wood, slowly began to ring out.

"Your Highness... I am truly grateful for your and the Beast God's Court's trust and kindness over the years..."

His voice was flat and emotionless.

"But it is precisely because of this gratitude that I, an old man, have no choice but to make this decision today."

He took a step forward, his gaunt figure appearing somewhat eerie against the backdrop of the gray-blue light.

"The way of a king is not about how strong you are, how many mountains you can smash, or how many heads you can cut off."

Turu's gaze swept over Grom's face, contorted with rage, and then over the skullcrusher guards, whose eyes were also imprisoned and filled with confusion and pain.

"It depends on whether he truly understands the boundaries of his power, and whether he is clear about what kind of future he can bring to the land beneath his feet and the people behind him."

Grom let out a deep, beast-like hoarse sound from his throat.

He was clearly extremely impatient with this kind of "preaching," but the restrictions within his body made even speaking extremely difficult.

Moreover, as Tulu raised his hand to activate the necromantic power of the magic circle, he felt that it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to struggle!

Ignoring his murderous gaze, Turu continued in his hoarse voice, as if reading a pre-written verdict:

"You are exceptionally gifted and favored by the Beast God; there is no doubt about that."

"But in your eyes, there is only the improvement of your own strength, only how to step into the legend faster, and how to use stronger power to crush your opponents and seize glory."

"Have you ever seriously considered how the orc race will survive and thrive on this continent after you step into the legendary realm?"

"How can you ensure that your people no longer have to rely solely on plunder and slaughter to survive in barren swamps and wastelands?"

He paused, a complex emotion flashing in his cloudy eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a resolute expression:

"If you are truly the kind of tyrant with extraordinary talent, destined to suppress an era with absolute power."

"Then, even if your path is fraught with blood, I will be your most steadfast supporter, clearing obstacles for you and paving the way for your throne! For it is at least a clear and visible path that brings power and deterrence."

Turu's tone suddenly turned cold:

"Unfortunately, you are not. Your pursuit of power is more like that of a gambler who bets everything at the table, only seeing how to become stronger, but neglecting how to lead."

"The destruction of the Drywood Tribe is the best proof! You only saw that they were wiped out by the Holy Light Church, but have you ever thought about why they were targeted in the first place? That 'Heart of Bloodvine' is the price you paid for your greed!"

“The Heart of Bloodvine…” Grom managed to squeeze out these words through clenched teeth, his crimson pupils suddenly contracting.

This was what he craved most, and it was also the source of his rage.

He glanced instinctively at the animal skin bag at Kyle's waist, which still emitted an ominous red glow.

"But wasn't that what you told me to ask them for?!" Grom suddenly exclaimed.

“That’s right,” Tulu’s voice carried a hint of mockery, “but if Your Highness could control your desires, how could you possibly demand the sacred relic of blood sacrifice that the Drywood Tribe has passed down for thousands of years!”

"That is a 'heart' refined from the blood of a legendary wood-type beast god! By integrating it into a beast's body, one can obtain a wood-type life core that is ever-renewing and has unlimited growth potential!"

"For any orc warrior who seeks the pinnacle of power, it is a coveted divine object! Yet you, as a prince, are demanding from your own people the very thing they depend on for survival!"

His voice suddenly rose, filled with a frustrated anger:

“Those fools of withered wood! Just because I mentioned to you that ‘this item might help His Highness the Prince break through the barrier,’ they rushed to offer you this sacred tribal artifact that has been passed down for thousands of years, like wild dogs smelling a bone!”

"Just to gain your fleeting favor and promises! Have they ever considered what the true foundation of the Withered Wood Tribe will be without the Bloodvine Heart? What will their future hold?"

Turu's gaze was sharp as a knife, piercing Grom:

"And you, Your Highness! You gladly accepted this sacrifice, seeing only the possibility that it could bring you a breakthrough in power!"

"Have you ever devised a way out for the Drywood Tribe? Have you ever thought about how they will survive in the swamp surrounded by powerful enemies after they have offered up the sacred object?"

"No! You only cared about when it would be delivered to you! And what was the result? The Drywood Tribe was exposed and uprooted by the Holy Light Church! The Heart of the Bloodvine fell into enemy hands!"

"This is the result of your pursuit of 'power'! One of your most loyal tribes has been buried with you for your foolish greed!"

“You… talking nonsense!” Grom made a hoarse sound in his throat as he tried to refute, but Turu’s words were like cold steel needles, precisely piercing the arrogance and shortsightedness deep within him that he himself was unwilling to admit.

The destruction of the Drywood tribe was indeed a consequence he had not fully considered.

"Nonsense?" Tulu sneered. "Then, Your Highness, when the news of the destruction of the Drywood Tribe came, besides being furious and ordering the return of the Bloodvine Heart, what did you do?"

"Have you made any substantial arrangements for those displaced, homeless, and destitute survivors? Have you ever thought about how to make up for the utter devastation they suffered because of your greed?"

Grom fell silent.

His silence was the best answer.

The pity in Tulu's eyes vanished completely, leaving only a cold, resolute expression:

"Therefore, for the future of the orc royal family, and for all the people on this land who believe in the beast god to no longer be dragged into the abyss by blind ambition and pointless sacrifice... I must make a choice."

“You, Grom Gorehowl, possess immense power, yet lack the heart and vision to match it. You… are not fit for that position.”

"roar--!!!"

Grom's rage finally broke through the pain of his confinement. He let out a deafening roar, and his huge body struggled wildly once again, trying to pounce on Turu, his eyes filled with a desire to devour him alive.

"So...who did you choose?!" he roared, each word dripping with blood. "That cowardly and incompetent eldest brother who only knows how to hide in the royal court and play power games, and doesn't even dare to go to the battlefield?! Or that second brother who is obsessed with mating and has never even been to the territory! It can't be that third sister who has become a shaman, can it?! What makes them so special?! What makes them more suitable than me?!"