“Anar'Alah， Anar'Alah Belore……”

(In the name of the rays, in the name of the sun's rays)

“Sin'dorei……”

(Descendants of the Blood)

The low, melodious chant slowly sounded in the scorching sun of an early autumn afternoon. At first, the lyrics seem to be very in line with the current season, but the song is a melodic and gentle adagio, with a quiet atmosphere. As it reverberated through the ruins, it was like a sigh that slowly unfolded and lifted—

“Shin'du Fallah na

Sin'dorei”

(The enemy is driving straight in.)

O descendants of the blood)

- The slender fingers plucked the strings, playing a simple note accompaniment, without a rich orchestration, and no ethereal, mournful female voice to harmonize for him. There was only a tall and thin elf, with a slightly hoarse voice, holding a harp in his arms, and smiling:

“Anar'Alah……

Shin'du Sin'dorei

Shin'du Fallah na

Sin'dorei

Anar'Alah Belore”

(In the name of the light,

O descents of the blood,

The enemy is marching in.

O blood descendants,

In the name of the sun's rays. ）

This time, instead of climbing the bell tower, the elven mage sat on a gentle slope overlooking the square, using the white stone pillar that had broken into several pieces on the ground some time ago as a makeshift chair. Alterac, a city on the banks of a snow-capped mountain, is built of the same hard, delicate stone in the ruins of the nearby city, once the center of the city, or "originally" made of the same stone; Everywhere there is rubble, big and small, which speaks of decay and decline. The white ruins of the white ruins withered and crumbling under the dazzling, blazing sun are what the once-glorious mountain town of Alterac King City is today. While the human syndicate mercenaries could barely understand the mage's Salas, the official language of the Northern Elven Kingdom, music knows no borders, and not knowing the lyrics doesn't prevent them from appreciating the atmosphere of the song that is quite appropriate to what they see in front of them.

"Elegy for the Upper Elves". This should be a song of remembrance of the past. But in the northern kingdom of Quel'Salas, the mysterious and elegant elves who live there sing it as a war song. Always resounding across the battlefield, accompanied by ethereal, mournful elegiacies, they charge the Burning Legion like moths to the fire, and they fight to the death with savage trolls in the savage jungles.

Similarly, as Jin Shaolan understood, although it is a mercenary organization, the backbone of the "Syndicate" is composed of a group of old and young people from Alterac, especially at this point in time, the "Syndicate" at the beginning of its establishment must pay more attention to the "purity" of the organization. As the red-robed elven mage chanted, the syndicate Assassins could hear the yesterday as if they were fresh in their minds but could never go back, the blood of the warriors of the Northern Kingdoms flowing on the wolf-smoked ruins.

The more glorious the memories of the past, the more I hate the "lackeys of Dalaran" in front of me.

Alterac did not surrender after a fierce battle or a bitter battle, but was forced to admit defeat before the battle began. Dalaran and Fort Riptide almost bloodlessly captured this majestic city, which was once the spiritual pillar of tens of millions of people. After the Coalition expelled the rebellious Alterac nobles, the commoners abandoned the city that had lost hope and vitality, and everything that was once thriving quickly turned to ruin in just a few months.

Compared with the moth-like battle of the elves described in the elegy of the past, the excitement of the history of surrendering without a fight can only be sharpened.

"If the great people on high say, 'Never surrender!' , I may also fight the enemy army of Dalaran to the end! But they did nothing and fell at the feet of the weak mage, so that they could leave with all their heads and tails instead of dying in battle or being liquidated after defeat. ”

…… Once this thought comes to mind, it's like a demonic temptation.

So, why not?

Originally, when they first saw that the adventurers recruited by Dalaran could not even cooperate with each other, and even confused themselves for a while because of the head-grabbing, the ranks of the syndicate mercenaries—between their whispers, between contempt and ridicule—basically regarded these adventurers as a mere rabble. And when some of the Assassins were killed one after another, and even at noon, the adventurers and the mage Dalaran who led them took the liberty of retreating from the ruins of the city to camp (and not have a picnic...... Bah! The vast majority of the people did not have a picnic), and these Assassins, who were proud of their origins and skills, still held their heads high and proud.

In their eyes, those stupid uncles who accidentally let themselves be killed probably gave up their lives because of their carelessness against the enemy, and even one of the squads even the captain was cut down to the ground by three mediocre risk-takers who were in danger from beginning to end!

Anyone who is not blind, even if he only hears about this scene, can easily think that if it were not for the bad mind of cat and mouse, how could he have overturned on such a flat country road? They're not going to be as inferior to the stupid dead ghosts, but they have a natural advantage in the ruins of this mountain town: they're familiar with the terrain, the buildings, the roads, the grass and trees – both in the old days and in the ruins of the past (revising and adjusting the order of words to preserve the feel and make it smoother). Taking advantage of this, they and these adventurers can have a lot of elusive and easy maneuvers.

- I have to say that this is one of the ten famous illusions "I think we can fight back".

In all fairness (yes, this is a multi-appearance scene, there is a guarantee to know the insiders of all walks of life, and the book is a commentary, and in all fairness), this does not seem to be some arrogant fantasies. Among the various combat classes in World of Warcraft, Stalkers are the best at fighting, sneak attacks, and assassinations. Stealth, instantaneous, killable if you catch a flaw, and quickly flee once the tide of battle turns around, the familiar terrain and the plurality of assassins are enough to turn the battle that broke out and ended in an instant into a protracted nightmare for the enemy.

Therefore, when the cannon fighting sparrow-style battle between the two sides began/continued/lasted for a while, as soon as the "senior Shaolang red-robed mage" Jin Shaolan, the bastard, intervened, because Tabeisa assigned their respective areas of responsibility for the temporary subordinates, the locations where fierce battles took place were scattered throughout the ruins of the city; The Syndicate's Assassins consciously avoided the Contractor, and the combined effect of the two factors was that none of them realized that something was wrong. When Jin Shaolan came back from enjoying the picnic cooking, oh no, it was already too late when the battle situation in the afternoon was in full swing, and some people understood that "we can turn the tables" was just an illusion, and these adventurers were certainly a rabble, but almost everyone was a good man who could fight five, it was already too late.

To add insult to injury, the organizational structure of the syndicate mercenaries determines that they are also a group of outlaws who "die for money, and birds die for food". The large bounty that can be paid is so large that people can go to Nanhai Town to buy houses, stables, manors, etc., and wait for retirement immediately. Not to mention that the adventurers sent by Dalaran were a rabble, but from the perspective of a lack of collectivism, a lack of initiative to seek cooperation and support each other, how could they not be themselves?

********

The autumn sun is still scorching at four o'clock in the afternoon, casting a clear shadow on everything on the ground.

On the rubble floor, a humanoid shadow cast by the sun moved rapidly, and then suddenly stopped in front of the half-row of wooden fences, and then came to an abrupt halt, merging with the scattered shadows of the fences; With this abrupt pause, a coral-like twig erupted from the edge of the shadow in an instant, and the shadow that stretched out from this small stretch stretched out in the blink of an eye, detached from the main body, and quickly spread into a fog-like blur as it went, and the black shadow that remained in place seemed to be pulled away from something, and the dividing line with strong chiaroscuro on the sand and stone twitched a few times, and then gradually stopped. A blood-stained hand "snapped" and fell to the ground, coinciding with its shadow.

A syndicate mercenary slumped on his back in front of the wooden fence, his intense astonishment, unwillingness, fear, and disbelief fading in those dead eyes, red and white foam spilling out of his mouth and drying up, reminding him of a sardine out of the water and dried fish with his ends slightly upturned after being sunburned.

The "Frenchman" silently backhanded the long sword into the scabbard at his waist. The sword was dark and plain-looking, and there was not even a gauntlet between the hilt and the blade. He relaxed and let out a breath. Not far away, he looked at the Russian woolly bear in an embarrassed state, and with a big smile on his face, he said "Hi", and his thumb-up fist snapped together.

In the golden sunlight of the western slope, the backs of the fleeing people could be faintly seen in the distance, and just as they looked down the hillside, a burst of fire dragged the white smoke to catch up with the one behind them. With a bang, several other backs sped out of sight like frightened rabbits and disappeared behind the hills. The local tyrant "Weidenfeller" happily put down the bazooka on his shoulder, and around him there was a gradual burst of applause, followed by more applause, which changed from sparse to enthusiastic, and began to be mixed with exhilarating shouts and presumptuous, fancy whistles. After a much more intense battle than in the morning, compared to the fact that the operation did not start smoothly at all, such an ending was really refreshing and refreshing. On the other hand, for the Syndicate mercenaries (whether they escaped or those who stayed forever in the ruins of the mountain town that filled them with obsession), the experience not so long ago was a nightmarish day.

Jin Shaolan always smiled and watched the whole process of the remnants of the assassin's dying struggle. Some of them never had a chance to escape from the ruins, some escaped from the walls and were chased by the contractors and eventually lost their lives, and there were probably fewer than ten Assassins who managed to escape—the latter being verified by Tarbeza himself.

The syndicates of this era still have their goals and persistence in their hearts (although in Jin Shaolan's view, they are more used to deceive and convince themselves that they are not losers), and when these former Alterac noble attendants hear the music deliberately chosen by Jin Shaolan, their feelings must be very complicated - yes, there is still a fundamental difference between them and the "villains", and it is precisely these positive factors that distinguish them from those inferior gangsters who do evil purely for desire and self-interest that Jin Shaolan uses - that's right, This is undoubtedly a naked exploit – and throwing yourself into battle with the adventurers who are helping Dalaran.

If they knew what Jin Shaolan was actually doing, they would have definitely left their revenge and revenge/promotion and fortune behind and resolutely exchanged their greatest wish to chop this bastard into eight pieces first—no, not necessarily: okay, he's just "boosting the morale of the Syndicate Assassins", that's all, just sauce!

“Shin'du Sin'dorei

Shin'du Fallah na

Sin'dorei

Anar'Alah Belore

Belore...”

(O blood descendants of the perished.)

The enemy is marching in.

O blood descendants,

In the name of the sun's rays.

The rays of the sun. ）

Singing the last measure of the chorus with a voice that always laughs, Jin Shaolan's fingers also hooked a few notes on the strings at the end that curled and dissipated into silence. Looking at the hasty back of the remaining syndicate assassins, he smiled and sighed softly:

“Belore...”

(Sun...... ）

********

"Mourn the wounds of fate

I burst into tears,

She gave me alms

But they were ruthlessly taken away.

Well documented

She wears gold and silver,

When the time comes for you to fight for me

She'll be left with nothing.

Fate favored me

I sit on the throne,

Wear a multicolored laurel crown

Hold the wealth of the world;

Even though I've been in the limelight

Joy and joy;

Now I have fallen from heaven

Humiliation.

The wheel of fortune spins non-stop:

I fell into the abyss;

Others are lifted

High

At the pinnacle of power -

Let him fear losing power!

The scrolls of fate have long been stated

Everything is like Queen Hecab. *”