Velen trembled. His assistant was beside him and handed him a hot drink, but the Prophet waved his hand to take it away. Drinks can't bring him pacification now, and there will be no more real pacification.

He was saddened to hear the news of the fall of Tymor, especially with his best friend Restaran in the city. And when he learned how the attack was unfolding, he felt even more pain. Veron had seen something unusual in young Durontan, and the treatment he had received when he fell into the hands of the orcs had strengthened his faith in the Frostwolf Chieftain. But now, Durotan and Orgrim are the only two orcs who know how that emerald protects the city. One of them even remembered the spell that lifted the gem's protective illusion. A small portion of the Draenei escaped from that city and came here, the Temple of Carabo. Their wounds were bandaged, but Velen and the others could not calm their frightened souls.

To make matters worse, the refugees did not mention simple bows and arrows, or destructive weapons such as axes, spears, and hammers, but described in a low, frightening voice the terrifying dark green orb of magic, the magic of torment and pain that was beyond any means used by the shaman to strike his enemies, and the creatures that jumped and muttered at the feet of those who wielded it.

They describe Manari.

A lot of things suddenly seem reasonable. The unexpected and unprovoked aggression of the orcs, their rapid advancement of technology and skills, and the fact that they betrayed the shamanic way, which was understood by Velon, was a religion that established a relationship of demand and giving between the harness and the elemental powers. The men who command Manari do not seek a balance of power, they only dominate.

Just like Kilgardan and Akmund.

Orcs are nothing more than pawns in Ereda's hands, and Veron knows it. He and the rest of the Draenei. These "exiles". That's what they're really aiming for. The orc horde is now expanding, and powerful creatures are joining, and these are just the ways Kil'Gardan is looking for to destroy him. For a moment, Velonn thought that maybe the new leader of the tribe would listen to him; Perhaps understanding how they were being used by Kil'Gardan, they would immediately turn their back and side with the Delaney to overthrow Kil-Gardan. But he immediately dispelled the thought. It is likely that the orcs who have been exploited by Kilgardan already know the true nature and purpose of Erida, and the power they have been assured of. It looks reliable and seductive. Neither Akmund nor Kiljadan could resist these temptations, they were far older, stronger, and wiser than any orc.

And now, he saw something even worse, the sight of a hulking ogre allied with orcs—the kind he had once dispelled as a dream he had devoured. Now he knew it was true. Something has changed the nature of the orcs so completely and irrevocably that they will ally themselves with creatures of generational hatred against the Draenei, who have tried to form friendships with them for generations.

If this happens somewhere else. The way to deal with it is clear. Veren would rally his people and escape under the protection of Naru. But the ship had crashed, and C. Oure was dying. Except for being at war with the Horde. And pray that they will survive, there is no possibility of them escaping.

Ah, C. Ure, my old friend. How much I need your wisdom at this moment, how uncomfortable you feel at the hands of the enemy, who can't even understand your existence.

He leaned the gem called the Song of the Soul to his heart, feeling the faintest sparkle of Naru, who was dying. Velons closed his eyes and lowered his head.

Guldan looked around the room and felt very satisfied, everything was going according to plan. The Shadow Council has been in operation for some time, and so far, Gul'dan is very happy with the people he has picked. They are all ready—no, desired—to betray their people in order to chase the power they crave. They're doing a good job now, using guò puppet to achieve their ends, and the marionette is stupid enough to think he's a real member of the council, not their mouthpiece. It would have been easy for him to be elected Grand Chief, and as long as the council had smiled at him with approval during the short time he had been in the meeting, he would not doubt his position. But in fact, Blackham was always pushed off before the real meeting began, giving him some task or something else that would fill his chest with pride.

"Hello everyone," Gul'dan said, sliding into the chief's chair. As usual, Neozu stayed in the corner, never invited over to sit with the others, but allowed to listen to their discussions, which Kil'gardan had requested, and while it was not clear to Gul'dan why his master wanted this, all he wanted now was to keep Kil'gardan's favor and not want to say anything more.

The council members buzzed and greeted, and Gul'dan went straight to the point. "What do the clans think about the alliance with the ogre? ”

The chief of the Broken Hand Clan grinned. "They were all preparing for a bloody slaughter, and they didn't mind who was going to help them slit Delaney's throat. The council nodded in agreement, mixed with rough laughter, filled the cavern. In the dim light of the torches, Gul'dan seemed to see their eyes glowing orange. However, there are also some people who show displeasure on their faces and are not as excited as everyone else.

"I've heard that some people in the White Claw Clan have objections to this. Someone said, "And Durotan of the Frost Wolf, his attitude needs to be seen again, after all, he led the attack on Tamor." ”

Gul'dan held up a hand. "Don't worry, I've been keeping an eye on Durotan for a long time. ”

"Why don't you get rid of him?" Kargas roared angrily. "It's easy to replace him with someone else who agrees with our plan. Durotan is becoming more and more well-known, just because he questions Blackhan's status, and yours. ”

"That's why I have his life left," Gul'dan said, looking at everyone to see if anyone could understand without further explanation. He only saw a few expressions of understanding on their faces, while the others still looked confused and angry.

"Just because of his popularity among the moderates," Gul'dan continued. He had to give some people in Parliament a clear reason. He was a little disappointed by this. "If we end up winning him. Those who have doubts will follow him. He represents many people who are not afraid to express their thoughts. If Durotan accepts it, it means that they all accept it, and then the problem is solved. As Kargas mentioned, the Frostwolf Clan isn't the only one with reservations. ”

"But... What if he doesn't agree? What if there are boundaries that he doesn't want to cross?"

Gul'dan smiled coldly. "Then we'll dispose of him in the best way we do, as we always do. Gul'dan felt it was time to change the subject, and he leaned forward and propped his hands on the table. "Speaking of those who have reservations, I've heard that there are people trying to communicate with elemental spirits or ancestral spirits. ”

One of the council members looked a little uneasy. "I've tried to dissuade them. But I don't know how I can punish them for that. After all, it is the belief in the ancestors that makes them believe that it is the spirit of the ancestors that tells us to attack the Delaney, otherwise this qiē will not exist. ”

There was something provocative in his voice. Gul'dan smiled, "Yes, it is. This bait hooked them too deep. He glanced at Naozu, and the old shaman saw his gaze and quickly lowered his eyes. It's also the bait that catches Naozu - and in Gul'dan's eyes, it's a completely different bait.

"But it's no longer necessary to keep the bait," Gul'dan continued. "We have to make sure that we don't go back to the old ways. We have indeed been lucky in this battle so far, and with the Ogre, our success is likely to continue. But if there are any setbacks, any frustrated battles. Those who still keep their hearts and minds attached to the shamanic path will find an audience to continue preaching. This must not be allowed to happen. He thought and tapped his chin. "Not only do we want to promote warlock training, we must take the initiative to stop the spread of shamanic teachings. If the ancestral spirits were really connected to their descendants. That would be terrible. ”

He glanced at Nao Zu again, and Nao Zu only went to the Holy Mountain by himself to communicate with the soul of the ancestors and discover the facts. Until then, even a shaman as powerful as him had been deceived by illusions. Therefore, what they are going to do does not look complicated.

Souls made of light float deep in disembodied dreams. They remember what has passed, and they can see the future. They have been wandering here for a long time, relying on the existence of the zài, the existence of the zài that is both like them and not like them, the existence of the zài that they feel is sinking deep in a slow death. For a long time, they have been living peacefully and serenely in this state of non-existence. But now, filth, hatred, and danger have come. They can no longer reach their sleeping beloved ones. And their beloved living did not come to visit as before, bringing water to replenish the holy pool, and in doing so, inadvertently perpetuating the life of the being. Only the orc who had been deceived by Yan zhòng came, crying and begging, but he was lost too deep in the deception to save anything.

Suddenly, their deep dreams were invaded. A tremor passed over them, pain eroded them, and they screamed and begged for help from that deposit, but that depository could not help them, nor could they help themselves. Those creatures that were once beautiful but now dark and evil came, and the ancestral spirits sensed their approach. They arrived coldly, gathering their strength to form a dark circle that separated the mountain from its surroundings at the foot of the mountain. Extreme darkness dances, from the twisted creatures who follow Sargeras, seduced by power, and now eager to ruin miè qiē. The Ancestral Soul felt the fiery hatred coalesce into dark green energy, waving around like a few terrifying tentacles, trying to coalesce together. Slowly, unstoppably, they coalesce and tighten the bindings until they form a barrier of shadow energy that seals the entire mountain, not letting any lost orcs enter, nor letting any resentful souls out.

And when the barrier was closed, the storage zài also let out a mournful cry. Without a shaman to bring it water, it could not even continue to try to heal itself. And without that existing, eventually the soul of the ancestors will disappear.

And in the distance, the only orcs who still secretly regarded themselves as shamans trembled and wept in their sleep, their dreams corrupted into nightmares, filled with endless torment and an inescapable curse of ruin. (To be continued......)