"However, we did travel for a while to find the land. We ended up here and we're here too. Veron said

Durotan was desperate to ask more questions, how long had they been traveling, what was their homeland like, and why did they leave there...... But there was something in Vilen's face that had not been eroded by time to tell him, although Viren welcomed him with questions, which the leader of the Delaney would not answer.

He changed his tune and asked how they used weapons and magic. "Our magic comes from the earth," Durotan said, "from shamans and ancestral spirits." ”

"Our magic comes from different sources," said Viren, "but even if I explain, you won't necessarily understand. ”

Ogrim said angrily, "We're not stupid!"

"Forgive me, I didn't mean that. Viren said immediately. His apologetic tone was both decent and sincere, and Durotan couldn't help but admire him again. "Your people are wise, and you two are very wise. Only, I'm not sure I know the right words in your language. If I have enough time and vocabulary, I will be able to explain it to you, I have no doubt about that. ”

Even when he said this, he seemed to be struggling with the choice of words. Durotan thought of the magic that hid a city, the way the soft and strange metals and gems fused together, and he knew that Viren was right. No orc could comprehend this qiē in just one night, but Patriarch Kashur may have had a natural inspiration for it. He couldn't help but wonder why there wasn't much communication between the two races.

The conversation moved to more mundane topics. Veren preaches that deep in the Terokca Forest there is a sacred place for the Draenei called Oakington. It was where they buried the dead. Cremation was not practiced by the Draenei. Instead, the dead are buried in the ground. Durotan thought it was strange enough. But very wisely not to say so. Tamor is the closest city to that "City of the Dead". And Viren came here this time to bury a few warriors who were killed by the ogre, the one who almost smashed Orgrim and Durontan.

Viren said that he usually lives in the Carabo Temple, which is a very beautiful place. The Draenei also had a number of cities, the largest of which was in the north, called Shatrath.

Dinner is finally over. Viren sighed. His gaze remained on the empty plate in front of him. Durotan could tell that his mind wasn't there.

"I beg your pardon, I have to go. "I'm so tired that I have to meditate before I go to bed. It's an honor to meet you, Durotan of the Frostwolf Clan and Orgrim of the Blackstone Clan. I hope you guys can sleep well here. By the way, can this little human friend talk alone tomorrow? I know less about your race than the orcs. ”

"No problem, Venerable Prophet. Lin Yue's tone was full of respect, that was respect for the elders, let alone such an almost immortal elder.

Durotan and Orgrim also stood up. A deep bow. Viren smiled slightly, in that smile. Durotan felt the strange sorrow again.

"We'll see you again, young man. Good night. ”

The two orcs and Lin Yue soon left. They were escorted to their respective rooms and did get a good night's sleep. But Durotan had a dream in which an old orc sat quietly beside him. What that meant, he couldn't figure out.

"Bring him," the old orc said to Patriarch Cashur.

Patriarch Kashur, the oldest shaman of the Frostwolf Clan, is asleep. The luxury of her tent was second only to that of the patriarch Garrad, showing her high status in the clan. A heavy cracked hoof cowhide blanket kept her old bones safe from the cold, and a loving granddaughter waited on her, cooking, cleaning, and burning the fire in the winter. Patriarch Kashur's duty was to listen to the wind, water, fire, and plants, and to drink the bitter herbal juice that helped her open her heart to the spirits of her ancestors every night. She learns from elemental spirits and ancestral spirits, just as everyone else collects fruit and firewood from trees, which are also essential food for the clan.

The old orc wasn't in her tent, but she knew he did. He had stored it in her dreams, and for her, that was enough. In the dream, she was young and energetic, with healthy skin shining ruddy and a smooth body covered with strong muscles. The old orc was his age when he died, the age at the height of his wisdom. His name was Kyaw Talkra when he was alive, but now she calls him only grandfather - even though he was an elder many, many generations ago.

"You received the message," the grandfather said to the young, athletic Khashur in the dream. She nodded, her black hair fluttering.

"He's with that boy from the Blackstone clan with the Draenei," she said, "and they'll come back safely, I can feel it." ”

"Yes, they are safe. Bring him in. ”

This is the second time he has said this. Cashur wasn't quite sure what he meant.

"In a few months, when the leaves are falling, he will come to the mountains," she said, "so yes, I will naturally bring him." ”

Talkra shook his head violently, his brown eyes narrowing in annoyance. Cashur's smile was stifled; Of all the ancestral spirits that have visited her, Grandfather Talkra is undoubtedly the most impatient.

"No, no," Talkra roared, "bring him to us. Take him to the cave of Voshugu. I'm going to see him with my own eyes. ”

Cashur took a breath, "You...... Do you want me to take him to the Ancestral Soul?"

"Didn't I just finish talking? You stupid girl! What happened to our shamans?"

He's always been so disciplined, so Khashur doesn't care. What really shocked her was his instructions. It is true that there are times when the spirits of the ancestors will ask to see a child; It's unusual, but it's happening. Often, the children who are summoned are destined to follow the path of shamans. She never thought that Durotan would go down that path; There are few shamans among the leaders of the clan. Such a person is often torn between elemental spirits and clan affairs, and it is difficult to be a good leader. Hardly any orc can handle both sides. If such an orc really appeared, it would be a great man.

Cashur was silent for a moment. Grandfather roared and slammed his cane to the ground, startling Cashur.

"I'll bring him on the day of his coming-of-age ceremony. Kashur assured the Ancestral Souls.

"That's right, you finally get it. Talkra said, waving his cane at her. "If you dare to disappoint me, this cane will hit your head next time!"

When he said this, he couldn't completely hide a smile. The dreaming Kashur closed his eyes and smiled. Although Talkra was always menacing and short-tempered, he was very wise and kind, and he cared deeply for her. How she wished she could have known him while he was alive, but he had been dead for more than a hundred years.

Cashur opened his eyes and sighed. She was back in her real body, as old as Talkra had died, with atrophied hands and feet, aching joints, weak body, and snow-white hair. She knew that she would soon leave this body for the last time, from this earthly shell, to join the ancestors of the Holy Mountain. At that point, Drektar would be the advocate for Garrard and the Frostwolf Clan. She had full confidence in him. In fact, she was already looking forward to the day when she would become a full soul energy.

Still, she thought, she would miss the qiē that life had given her, something too simple to be – like chirping birds, warm food, and her granddaughter's loving touch. She pondered; A little bit of sunlight gradually seeped in, and the birds began to sing.

Bring him in, grandfather said. (To be continued......)