Kilgardan was furious.

Naozu trembled, his whole body prostrate on the ground, and muttered, "I beg your pardon...... Please forgive ......" He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the pain he had never experienced to penetrate his body. But, suddenly, the anger of the Great Lord disappeared.

Naozu plucked up the courage to look up. His master, Kil' Gardan, was once again calm, composed, and steady, and his body was shrouded in radiance.

"I ...... Very disappointed. The Beauty Supreme whispered. Shifting his focus, he continued, "But I know two things. First things first: this time it was the responsibility of the frostwolf patriarch. The second thing is that you never, never, never let him perform any important tasks again. ”

Nao Zu breathed a sigh of relief, almost dizzy. "Of course, sir. I would never do that again. Also, my lord...... We did find these crystals for you. ”

"These two stones are of no use to me. Kilgardan said. Naozu's heart shrank in pain. "But I suppose your people may be able to put these crystals to use in your war with the Draenei. It's your war, isn't it?"

Naozu's heart was gripped by fear again. "Of course, my lord! ”

Kilgardan looked at him for a moment, fire burning in his eyes.

"This is my will. He said simply.

Nao Zu nodded almost hysterically, "Of course, of course, my lord, this is your will, and I, your humble servant, obey one of your orders. ”

Kilgardan seemed pleased with the answer, and he nodded, and his image vanished. Naozu sat back on the ground. I wiped the sweat from my face.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something white flashing. Gul'dan saw a qiē.

We've been planning an offensive for a while. Last night. At night when the Pale Lady does not shine in the sky, we descend on that sleeping town. Not a single one was left alive, and we found a few children, all of whom were killed. Their supplies - food, armor, weapons, and a few strange things of unknown use - were shared between our two united clans. The blue blood of the Draenei dries up on our faces, and we dance around the corpses in celebration.

The letter continues. But Naozu didn't read any further. There's no need for that. Although the details vary, the thrust of each letter is the same. Successful attacks, the glory of killing, the beauty of blood splatters. Naozu glanced at the stack of letters he had received this morning. There were seven in the morning.

As each month passed, the orcs became more adept at slaughtering the Draenei - even during the long, cold winters. And with each victory, they learn more. Durotan really came in handy for Naozu's stone. At first, Neozu used two crystals alone, and then the rest of the shamans joined in. They call the red crystal "the heart of fury"; They found that every time they fought, they only had to carry it with the leader of the army. Not only was his own strength and skill improved by a notch, but all the soldiers under his command were also buffed. The crystal is passed around in turns from clan to clan. Take the arrival of each new moon as a cycle. Everyone longed for it, but Naozu knew that no one would dare to actually take it for themselves.

The second stone, he called it, "Brilliant Hour". He found that when a shaman carried it with him, his or her concentration and insight rose to a very deep level. If anger is an inspiration, then a bright day is calm. People who carry the bright morning will transmit their thoughts faster and more accurately, and their concentration will not be interrupted lightly; This also directly boosted the power of their spells, and powerful spells were perfectly manipulated in their hands, further solidifying the foundation of their victory. Also, the ironic fact that they are using the power of the Draenei against the Draenei themselves has also brought a lot of morale to the orc army.

But none of this brought the slightest pleasure to Naozu. In that conversation with Durotan, the doubts that flashed were actually rooted in his heart and lingered. He struggled to drive doubt out of his mind, fearing that Kil'Gardan would read his mind. But those thoughts always returned, like maggots growing on a corpse, disturbing his meditation and annoying his dreams. Kil'Gardan and the Draenei are so, so similar. Could it be that they are the same race, and he, Naozu, was used in some kind of civil war?

These thoughts flooded his mind all the time, and one night, he finally couldn't take it anymore. He scrambled to his feet, got dressed, and woke up his wolf, the Sky Seeker. It stretched, sleepy-eyed winking at him.

"Come, friend. Naozu called affectionately and climbed on the back of the giant wolf. Traditionally, he had walked to the Holy Mountain, and this was the first time he had ridden to it - but he had to come back before anyone found out that he was missing, knowing that the Ancestral Spirits would not take an offense at what they had to do in an urgent situation.

It's now close to spring, and the festival of Koshhag is coming soon. But the cold wind kept tearing at Naozu's ears and nose, and made him feel that spring was so far away. He leaned close to the wolf, grateful for its warmth, and tried to avoid the cold wind—now with snow.

The wolf moves forward in the wind and snow, not fast, but with a steady step. Finally, Nao Zu looked up and saw the perfect triangular silhouette of the Mountain of Souls, and his heart was greatly relieved. For the first time in months, he truly felt like he was doing the right thing.

It was difficult for the Sky Seeker to climb the mountain, so he ordered it to wait where it was. It burrowed into a pile of snow and clumped to its feet. Naozu began to climb the mountain. He hadn't been so dexterous in years; A heavy water bag fell on his package, and his heart was full of anticipation.

He should have done it a long time ago, he should have come a long time ago. He should have come long ago to seek the guidance of the wisdom of his ancestors, as every shaman should be. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before.

Finally reached the entrance of the cave. He paused in front of the perfect oval, and although he was anxious, he did not forget the ritual that had to be performed. He lit the bundle of hay he had brought with him, and let the sweet scent soothe his mind and cleanse his soul. Then he took a step forward. Recite the mantra lightly. Light up the fire moment on both sides of the road. How many times has Naozu walked this road. He doesn't remember it himself. His feet moved as if they had a volition of their own. The path winds and winds downward, and Naozu finally steps into the darkness, his heart beating wildly and full of hope.

It seemed to take him longer than usual to get used to the light. Naozu enters the cave...... The light from the Sacred Pool seemed to be dimmer than before, he thought. The thought unnerved him.

He took a deep breath and secretly reproached himself. He had only brought his fears to the Holy Land. It must be so. He walked to the sacred pool, took the water bag from the package, and filled it with water. For a moment, the sound of murmuring water became the only sound, echoing through the cave.

When all the water bags were emptied, Naozu sat on the edge of the pool, looking into the glowing depths of the pool, waiting.

Nothing happened.

He didn't panic. Sometimes the Ancestral Spirits are not in a hurry to respond.

But, as the minutes ticked by, Nao Zu became uneasy. He called anxiously:

"Ancestral souls. O our beloved departed...... I, Naozu. The shaman of the Shadow Moon Clan has come to seek ...... No...... Beg your wisdom to teach. I-I can't see your guidance anymore. It's a dark and dangerous time, even as we grow stronger and more united...... I don't know if I'm on the right path, and I beg you for your guidance. I beg you, if you have loved and cared for those who have followed in your footsteps, please show up and give me advice so that I can better lead my people!"

His voice trembled. He knew that what he had just said sounded miserable and pitiful, and for a moment some stubborn pride made him feel ashamed, but only for a moment. He knew that he cared about his people and that he wanted to do the right thing...... And now, he doesn't even know what the right thing is, so, he has to.

The light of the sacred pool intensified. Naozu leaned over eagerly, his eyes scanning the surface of the pool.

He saw a face looking back at him in the pool.

"Lukan," he whispered, tears suddenly welling up obscuring her vision, mercifully obscuring her countenance. He blinked, and the moment he saw hers, it felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart.

The look in those eyes was hatred.

Naozu jerked back as if he had been hit, and at this point, more faces began to surface. Dozens of familiar faces emerged one by one, each with the same expression. Nao Zu felt his stomach churn and shouted, "Please, save me, give me your guidance, let me regain your favor......"

Lucan's grim expression seemed to soften a little, and when she spoke, there was a hint of pity in her voice. "It's impossible, it's not possible now, and it won't be in another hundred years. You are not the savior of your people...... Rather, a betrayer. ”

"No!" He screamed, "No, tell me what I have to do, I'll do anything! It's not too late, it's not too late—"

"You're not strong enough," another voice rumbled, this time a male voice. "If you're strong enough, you'll never get this far down this path. You will never be so lightly deceived into fulfilling the will of someone who has no feelings for our people. ”

"But—I don't understand," murmured Neozu, "Lukan, you came to me! I heard you with my own ears! And you, Grekshar—you gave me advice! Kil Gardan is the one you told me to accept with all my heart!'s greatest friend of all orcs!"

She didn't say anything; She didn't have to say anything. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Naozu understood. How perfectly rigged he was.

The Ancestral Soul never came at all. It's all a hoax designed by Kilgardan, whoever he is - what it is. Yes, he deserves not to be trusted. How can the ancestors trust a shaman who can be deceived so lightly, and how can they still allow him to correct a qiē? Everything is a web, a delicate web of lies, deception, and manipulation. And he Nao Aozu was the first stupid insect to collide with it, and there was no chance to turn around.

They have already killed nearly a hundred Draenei. Now, there is no turning back, and it is impossible to get the help of the ancestors' souls. He could no longer trust any of the images he saw in his dreams, the only thing he knew was that they were mostly lies. And the worst thing is that he personally delivered his people into the hands of a handsome and grandiose man who is sweet-talking, but who has no interest in them in his heart.

He looked into his lover's eyes, but she had already turned away. One by one, countless faces in the water disappeared with her.

Naozu was the only one left, trembling in fear in the empty cavern. He did something irreparable. No matter what he does, he can't make up for it. He couldn't do anything, and his only option was to follow the path that Kil'Gardan had so carefully designed for him. He could only pray to the spirits of the ancestors who would never listen to him again, praying for a glimmer of turning around that he didn't know if it would come. He covered his face with his hands and began to weep.

Gul'dan crouched in some dark corner of the tunnel, smiling with satisfaction at the sound of his master's sobs.

Kilgardan would love this information. (To be continued......)