There are no words to describe their eagerness, and after just half an hour, they have crossed. Get on your mount and gallop on the main road outside the city.

Out of an abundance of caution, Tyran ordered Arton to follow with a company of knights. Deprived of the greenery, the ground here is arid and cracked, the road is covered with a thick layer of floating soil, and long queues run through the canyon, kicking up a cloud of smoke and dust.

The sergeant, who had changed horses, ran to the front, leading the way. Actually, it wasn't necessary, as almost everyone in the team knew how to get to Firestone Farm.

"Who is the commander of their team?" In the galloping procession, Diego broke the silence. To be honest, among so many people, only the adventurers still have a few acquaintances in the Undercity.

"A ...... named Norman," replied the sergeant, pausing as if considering how to phrase it, "...... The living dead, to be honest, he doesn't look like a serious officer at all, but like a ......"

"An innkeeper?" Diego interjected.

"That's right, my lord, how do you know?" The sergeant asked in surprise.

"I know him, he's a good old man." Diego smiled. Speaking of which, of the forsaken he knew, old Norman left the best impression on him - a poor man who still retained most of his memories of life, and although he came back from the dead, he still demanded that he should be the same as a human being.

"My lord, have you dealt with the Forsaken, do you know how effective they are?" The sergeant asked curiously, curious about the new allies. He wasn't the only one interested in the question, and many in the team pricked up their ears and waited for Diego's answer.

"Similar to the Scourge Legion, death has a great effect on them, after all, their joints and muscles are no longer as flexible as they were in life, but their ferocity makes up for it - after dying once, they are not afraid of dying again, and many of them are even completely aiming for eternal sleep after dying in battle."

"Wow, that's ......," the sergeant began.

The conversation was heated and all sorts of questions about the Forsaken were thrown at Diego. These questions are not limited to the Forsaken's fighting, but also about the birth, development, and current status of the Forsaken, as well as all aspects of life in the Undercity. It must be said that Diego's vast knowledge was once again on display, and he answered these questions fluently, knowing that there were many things that even the minotaurs and dwarves who had been walking with him had never heard of. But for Masrae, he was no longer surprised, he had often had the illusion that his companion was not a rude adventurer, but a knowledgeable scholar.

Tirio and Tyran had learned a few things about the Forsaken through Diego during this time, but those were only about the military, and they were happy to know more about it, so they were watching their conversation.

They had been running along the avenue for half an afternoon, and as the midsummer sun began to taper its enthusiasm a little, the dilapidated figure of Firestone Farm in the distance began to appear in their sight.

Through the sparse woods on both sides of the road leading to the farm, they saw that the farm was now crowded with dense crowds, and even from a few hundred meters away, they could smell the strong smell of corpses.

Apparently, after the adventurers left the Undercity, Sylvanas underwent a massive reorganization of her army. Now it seemed that her work had paid off—though crowded, the ranks of the Forsaken remained roughly in formation—the three legions were roughly divided into three piles, which looked like three nests of ants huddled together. As for the appearance of the military - they are already people who have died once, how much more could you ask for?

At this moment, this mixed army is encamped, but the Fairstone farm is still too small, and the dilapidated houses cannot accommodate so many people, and many of the forsaken have stepped on their own dead crops and set up tents in the fields, and even so, many people still have nowhere to live.

The Forsaken are no longer sick from the cold and rain like humans, but they need tents to keep them in need of shelter - even though their limbs are rotting and broken, they still have to do their best to keep some flesh on their bodies, after all, once the battle starts, a corpse is wrapped in skin. The body of flesh is much more resistant to beating than a shriveled and crunchy skeleton of bones. In fact, to a certain extent, the blazing sun can hurt their tattered bodies more than the wind and rain, and their tents are more used for shelter than wind and rain.

At this moment, Diego saw a group of Forsaken people surrounding the human scouts who greeted them, shouting something in a disturbance. When they heard the thunderous sound of horses' hooves, they all fell silent and turned their heads to look this way.

Soon, a human squeezed out of the Forsaken and strode towards him. Diego recognized it as Orin, the leader of the scouts.

Orin didn't look well, though, walking staggering like a duck, and walking in a crooked path, looking more like a zombie than the Forsaken.

"Hey, Orin, what's wrong with you? Is it the plague? A soldier in the team who knew him well asked with concern.

"No, it's so smelly here, I'm about to faint." Orin said with an ugly face, he came to Tirio and was about to salute, but suddenly bent down and vomited.

"......" Tirio couldn't help but roll his eyes, helplessly watching his scout team keep vomiting, until he couldn't vomit anymore before straightening up.

"Does it really stink that much?" He asked, puzzled.

"Yes, my lord, this is the fourth time I've vomited this afternoon, and I've vomited everything in my stomach, and now it's all bile and gastric juice." Orin wiped the corners of his mouth with a yellow-green residue and looked at the sky, "But I vomited more frequently at the beginning, but I got used to vomiting and vomiting, and it has been almost an hour since the last time I vomited." ”

"But I'm afraid it will affect communication between us and the Forsaken!" Tirio said with some concern. He couldn't imagine meeting the Forsaken and opening his mouth before speaking.

"Don't worry, Masrae can solve this problem." At this moment, he noticed that someone had handed him two white dried fruits full of holes, the size of a date pit.

He turned his head and saw Diego looking at him with a smile. Behind the hunter, the Night Elf Druids are distributing the fruit to the humans around them.

"Well, two for each person, stuff them in your nostrils, and you'll feel better." Masrae put the fruit into his nostrils and said with a loud voice.