Arthas immediately shut down Frenzy; it was draining too much health, and with low health, he really couldn't sustain it.
The uncontrolled undead became less of a threat, attacking wildly, some even spinning in place.
The undead had no thoughts and couldn't even control themselves; it just required time and patience to hunt them down.
Grom was also covered in wounds; to buy time for Arthas, he had endured several waves of damage.
He shouted "Never a slave!" but his actions were decisive.
A holy light descended, raising his health and healing most of his external injuries.
"Still got strength? Let's see who kills more; the winner gets an extra roasted wild boar tonight."
"I won't lose! I am Grom Hellscream!"
After half a day of fighting, the conscripted farmers were cleaning up the battlefield.
Arthas led his men into Andorhal, where a faint green mist was visible everywhere.
The plague-infected grain piled up formed a green glow, and the villagers inside were not doing well, all constantly coughing.
More than half of the grain in the entire logistics center was already gone; besides local consumption, much of it had already been distributed to various villages and towns.
"Ah!"
A crazed villager suddenly bit a nearby farmer, suffering a sudden illness, his mouth covered in blood.
Bang!
Arthas emotionlessly struck down the unlucky fellow who had already transformed into a ghoul.
"Everyone must be gathered for detection with the Holy Light. Mograine, you are responsible for supervision. Everyone else, rest first."
No sooner had he spoken than villagers in the town began to transform into ghouls one after another; it was clear the situation was out of control.
Before Arthas could make a decision, the hot-tempered Mograine was already furious.
"Your Royal Highness, this place is beyond saving. First, kill the undead, then advance to Hearthglen and rest there."
This was the advantage of bringing Mograine; they bore the bad reputation, so no one would resent Arthas.
"Soldiers, fight once more! If we don't deal with these undead, they will spread and kill our friends and family."
"Let's endure the hardship now, form ranks, and charge!"
Even though the soldiers were incredibly tired, having fought for half a day, their stamina was almost completely depleted.
The Holy Light could heal injuries but couldn't dispel fatigue; they needed rest.
The elven Priests at the rear were also exhausted; although their mana remained substantial due to Arthas' aura, their mental energy consumption couldn't be recovered.
Arthas took a moment to check his rewards.
Level 1 Vampiric Aura: 10% of damage dealt to enemies is converted into health recovery, including both melee and ranged attacks.
Not bad; although 10% is small, it's better than nothing, and at least it provided sustain.
When it reached max level, it would convert 100%, becoming the ultimate life steal!
There weren't many ghouls in all of Andorhal, only a little over a thousand, and many untransformed villagers were hiding.
Repeated battles consumed a great deal of physical strength.
Yet, everyone continued to press on, heading north to Hearthglen for rest and recuperation. It had well-established defenses, making it easier to deal with the undead and allowing the tired army to rest and recover.
With Sylvanas' ranger units scouting, the journey was relatively peaceful.
At this time, Eastweald was still lush with trees and teeming with various beasts, completely unlike the later desolation and decay.
This place could not, and should not, become a plague land!
Arthas gripped his warhammer, feeling anger for the first time; this was all his future property!
The undead Scourge spreading the plague was stealing from his treasury!
Damn the undead!
Don't let him figure out how to control the undead, or he'd show them what a twenty-four-hour, non-stop beast of burden's life was like!
When they finally arrived at Hearthglen, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
This was Fordring's fiefdom; he had previously been stripped of his lord title for saving an orc and being framed by his subordinates.
This didn't mean the fiefdom was reclaimed but was passed to his son, Taelan Fordring.
"Welcome, Your Highness. Your arrival illuminates Hearthglen. I have already arranged for barracks and rooms, as well as ample food."
Taelan bowed respectfully, a vassal's profound reverence for his crown prince.
The army was being managed by Mograine, so he didn't need to command them. He rubbed his head.
"Have the foods sent from Andorhal been sorted out?"
He had already sent scouts ahead to warn them; he didn't want a large number of ghouls to suddenly appear while he was sleeping.
"As you commanded, we have sorted out this batch of grain. The grain we are eating is from the original stock."
"Your Royal Highness, please rest assured. It is very safe here; the undead cannot break through the town's defenses."
"There is one more thing I wish to ask for your help with: I also wish to join your army and serve."
Taelan was loyal to Lordaeron, and especially after seeing villagers transformed into undead zombies, he harbored immense hatred for the undead.
As a paladin, he could not stand such filthy defilement; it had to be purified.
Arthas was nearly exhausted and only wanted a good night's sleep.
"Alright, lead the way now."
Along the way, he could see the army here still preparing for battle; upon asking, he learned that a wandering band of undead had appeared last night.
Extremely weary at the moment, he decided to rest and recover his energy first.
With Mograine guarding, even if something happened, he would handle it.
Late at night, the outside was still brightly lit; under temporary military control, the streets were silent.
He glanced at Jaina, who was still in asleep, realizing how hard she had worked.
He said he would rest, but after bathing, with the fair-skinned, golden-haired maiden dazzling before him, any normal man would 'battle' again before thinking of rest.
Poor Jaina, after traveling all day, fighting undead all day, she still had to accept several hundred million in sea men. She was so tired that faint snores could be heard.
He pushed open the window, looking out into the night.
Arthas' brows were tightly furrowed. He had killed Mal'Ganis during the day, but the demon would surely find a way to revive at an altar; these demons could not be killed with current methods.
A fragrant breeze swept in as Sylvanas, with her magical bow and arrows, climbed through the window.
She glanced at the deeply sleeping Jaina, a flicker of inexplicable jealousy passing through her heart.
"Why aren't you sleeping yet?"
Climbing through a window in the middle of the night and asking if someone was sleeping, Sylvanas really knew how to find excuses.
Arthas stretched, then mischievously wrapped his arm around her slender waist, feeling her tense up.
"I've rested well. I'm worried about the situation in Stratholme, and even more worried about you."
Sylvanas was very unaccustomed to such intimacy. She had read that letter, and Silvermoon City actually planned to marry her to Arthas!
They had also proposed a list of conditions, which made her furious. She was the ranger-general of Quel'Thalas, not a commodity to be bought and sold!
This was an insult!
"Worry about your head! Worrying about your Jaina is the truth!"
"Are you jealous?"
"No! Mm!"
He had kissed her!