Breathing in the free air, Vol'jin cautiously surveyed his surroundings; he knew every street in Orgrimmar intimately.
Orgrimmar's prison is located near the Lower City. Once you enter the filthy and chaotic Lower City, it's like a rat entering a garbage dump—you'll never find it again.
But the Lower City are not safe, Garrosh will surely use the most terrible means to find Vol'jin.
Vol'jin found a set of clothes in the Lower City, slaughtered a poor family, ate a delicious meal, regained his strength, and hurried on his way to Theramore.
The next morning, Jaina got up early and went to the Archmage Tower to handle official business.
On the ship bound for Pandaria, they were unexpectedly attacked by the Sha. Jaina realized that Wrathion was unreliable and was completely disappointed in him, so she teleported back to Theramore.
The disciple Jindi reported to Jaina that a fire had broken out in the slums of Orgrimmar last night, destroying thousands of houses and burning many poor people to a crisp while they slept.
Jaina wasn't surprised; whenever a high-profile prisoner escaped from Orgrimmar's prison, a similar disaster would inevitably occur in the Lower City. Jaina was curious about who had escaped this time.
Kinndy reported again, this time about a minor matter: last night a Troll broke into Theramore and unfortunately encountered a group of drunkards, getting beaten half to death. The Troll claimed to be Vol'jin.
"Vol'jin?"
If it weren't for last night's Lower City fire, Jaina would never have believed it was really Vol'jin.
To humans, Trolls look pretty much the same, and almost every day Troll impersonates Vol'jin.
"Send him to see me," Jaina ordered.
The soldiers carried a blood-soaked sack. Poor Vol'jin, beaten to the point of near death, protested loudly upon seeing Jaina:
"Jaina, your soldiers dared to hit me! You must punish them! Throw them into the sea to feed the sharks!"
Jaina had no power over the thieves in Theramore and could only say tactfully, "Don't worry, I will punish them. Congratulations, Vol'jin, you've escaped Garrosh's clutches."
Vol'jin sat on the ground, stroking his pair of badly worn fangs, a look of pride and smugness on his face.
"Garrosh has forgotten that I oversaw the construction of Orgrimmar's prison; you can't imprison me there. Jaina, I want to know, where Thrall, the Savior, now?"
"Thrall is in Pandaria." Jaina picked up the newspaper that had been delivered the day before. "Thrall and Prince Anduin have established their own power in Pandaria, and are currently short-handed."
Vol'jin read the newspaper article. Having worked for Thrall for many years, he knew this trick all too well; heaven knows how much of it was just hype.
But Vol'jin had no choice at this moment. Considering the situation in Theramore, Jaina would never leave Vol'jin Theramore, as this would give Garrosh a reason to start a war.
"Jaina, I'll be leaving Theramore soon, but I need your help. I need to perform a sacrifice; could you please prepare some offerings for me?"
"What offering?" Jaina asked.
Vol'jin gave a cruel smile, "Souls, the more the better."
On an Island north of Theramore, Vol'jin built a simple Altar, and Jaina prepared more than fifty prisoners for Vol'jin, all of whom Murlocs from the vicinity of Theramore.
Vol'jin slaughtered all the Murlocs before the Altar, chanting obscure and incomprehensible incantations.
As streaks of dark light swirled around Vol'jin, the weakened Vol'jin, who had suffered horrific torture in the prison, gradually regained his strength, his muscles bulging and his eyes becoming bright and piercing.
"All spirits, grant me strength, I need your help."
Vol'jin continued chanting obscure incantations, and a black mist-like aura enveloped the Altar, obscuring Vol'jin and the corpses of more than fifty Murlocs.
When the black mist dissipated, Vol'jin stood beside the Altar, his body shrouded in ominous black energy, resembling Demons of the Burning Legion, his eyes filled with confidence.
A rumbling sound came from the sky, and a Horde airship appeared overhead.
Vol'jin was clearly taken aback. Then, several large ships appeared on the sea and surrounded the Island. A large group of fully armed Kor'kron Orcs landed on the shore, led by Garrosh's beloved general, General Nazgrim.
Nazgrim smiled cruelly, "Vol'jin, guess who betrayed you?"
Vol'jin lowered his head and uttered a name: "Jaina!"
Nazgrim nodded and smiled slightly.
"Vol'jin, you betrayed the Darkspear Tribe for the Orcs. In consideration of your past contributions to the Orcs, I can grant you one request before you die."
Vol'jin's face showed a desolate expression, and he said with a bitter smile, "I want to die like a warrior, in accordance with the ancient tradition of the Orcs, in a fair one-on-one battle."
Nazgrim laughed heartily.
The Kor'kron elite soldiers also laughed.
Nazgrim almost laughed until tears streamed down his face, "Vol'jin, as clever as you are, how could you make such a foolish request? You should know that the honor of the Orcs is just a slogan. Under these circumstances, do you really think there will be a fair duel?"
"I gave everything for the Orcs, never expecting this ending." Vol'jin, bare-handed, clenched his fists and calmly said, "Come, let's end this."
Nazgrim shouted the order, "Chop this Troll into mincemeat, but keep his head; we'll give it to the Warchief as a chamber pot."
The Kor'kron soldiers charged forward, wielding Battle Axes and howling. Vol'jin knocked down three Orcs with his fists, but was unfortunately wounded in the back by the fourth Orcs.
Finally, Vol'jin fell, and the Battle Axes came crashing down.
A soldier severed Vol'jin's head, Nazgrim, clutching Vol'jin's hair, laughed, "Vol'jin, chieftain of the Darkspear Tribe, you've met your end!"
Orgrimmar.
Garrosh examined Vol'jin's head, overjoyed, and ordered a lacquerer to turn it into a chamber pot, intending to send it to Pandaria as a surprise for Thrall.
The next morning, Garrosh was awakened from his sleep and sensed something was wrong. He summoned Nazgrim and questioned him about the details of Vol'jin's murder.
Nazgrim recounted the events in detail, expressing his deep admiration for Vol'jin's courage. Garrosh gasped slightly.
"So, it seems that Vol'jin didn't back down at the last moment, and died a heroic death like a warrior."
Nazgrim said admiringly, "I used to look down on Vol'jin, thinking he was just a sycophant who fawned over Thrall, but I never imagined he was such a great hero."
Garrosh angrily slapped his bald head and said:
"Fool, Nazgrim, you've been fooled. If that were the real Vol'jin, he would be begging for mercy. Trolls possess a lot of dark magic; I suspect Vol'jin used Murloc flesh and blood to create a substitute for himself."
Nazgrim was stunned and immediately knelt down to admit his mistake. Garrosh frowned and waved his hand, saying:
"Nazgrim, I'll let it slide this time, after all, you don't know enough about Vol'jin. Vol'jin has probably already boarded the ship to Pandaria. Hmph, Vol'jin, don't think you can fool me like this. I will personally end you in Pandaria."
A large ship sailed toward Pandaria.
This is true freedom. Vol'jin breathes in the fresh air and enjoys the warm sea breeze.