The Lost Ones Ra-den was startled, his massive body trembling slightly with excitement.
"Haha, I knew there was still hope. Wrathion the Harbinger really intrigues me. I hope he's not a minion sent by the Void, but rather comes from some unknown New World. Very well, I'll fulfill the deal now."
Ra-den's expression turned unusually serious:
"The flesh and blood of Orcs can indeed stop the Curse of Flesh, and it is a good medicine for you Mogu. You don't need to worry about Elune's conspiracy. To tell you the truth, Elune hates Orcs to death and wishes they were all dead."
Theon Xien the words silently, while Lao Xianglong wore a puzzled expression:
"Honorable Guardian, please allow me to interject. Orcs enjoy privileges in Azeroth; they can devour other races at will. We Pandaren are food for the Orcs. If we resist, we will be branded as the Destroyers and exterminated. Sooner or later, all life on Azeroth will be eaten by the Orcs. Ultimately, this is all because of the favoritism of the Elune."
Ra-den ignored Lao Xianglong and only said to Xien:
"This involves one of the greatest secrets of the universe, too much for me to reveal. I overheard the Titans discussing Elune, and that's why I want to escape this cage more than any other Titan Keepers. There is no hope for the future of this world."
Xien bowed respectfully and said, "Thank you, esteemed Guardian. I will help you bring Wrathion back. I hope the Guardian will grant Lei Shen's request from many years ago."
Ra-den hesitated for a moment, then said, "If I leave this world, all the Titans legacy will naturally belong to the Mogu, so you can rest assured. But don't underestimate any of the Harbinger. Immediately use the flesh and blood of the Orcs to resurrect Lei Shen; only he has a chance to defeat Wrathion."
Xien bowed to Ra-den again, and just as before, used his Sharp Sword to cleave a Spatial Rift, bringing Lao Xianglong back to the Mogu'shan Palace.
Without the oppressive feeling emanating from Ra-den, Lao Xianglong felt much more relaxed and became more talkative, asking curiously:
Why did Titan Keepers Ra-den flee Azeroth? Is Azeroth in danger?
Xien calmly replied, "Don't worry, this has nothing to do with you or me."
Lao Xianglong was confused and asked anxiously, "If Azeroth is destroyed, won't we all die? How can it be none of our business?"
Xien scoffed, "Pandaren don't live past a hundred years. Why worry about what happens after a hundred years? You can rest assured, Azeroth won't be destroyed within a hundred years."
Lao Xianglong scratched his head and asked again, "You Mogu have longer lifespans than us, shouldn't you consider things even further?"
Xien sneered, "We Mogu only need to consider things for ten thousand years, but for Ra-den almost immortal Guardian, he needs to consider ten thousand times ten thousand years."
Lao Xianglong stuck out his tongue. Ten thousand years, an unimaginable long time.
Mogu'shan Palace.
The Horde's ten thousand soldiers marched through room after room.
After Rokhan left, command of the 10,000 Horde fell into the hands of his lieutenant Malkorok. As General Nazgrim's most loyal Adjutant, and a brave and noble Orcs Warrior, Malkorok despised the cowardly Rokhan from the bottom of his heart.
Malkorok, wielding a sharp Battle Axe, led the way. In stark contrast to the Pandaren's experience, since entering Mogu'shan Palace, the Horde had only seen room after room shrouded in mist, empty and devoid of any decorations on the walls.
The soldiers lit torches, but they couldn't dispel the mysterious fog. Visibility was extremely low, and they ran around like headless flies in the empty room, unable to even see the enemy. The soldiers were under tremendous pressure.
Before long, Malkorok discovered they were lost. Many Orcs soldiers clenched their teeth, making unpleasant squeaking sounds, because they were extremely tense and teetering on the edge of rage.
We must find the right path, or find the exit.
Malkorok regretted his impulsive decision to barge into the terrifying palace.
A strange song drifted from the mist, ethereal and dreamlike, like a frail woman weeping, or Banshee whispering in the darkness. Many Orcs trembled with fear.
Malkorok was not afraid and urged the team to keep going.
A commotion arose at the rear of the column. Malkorok rushed to investigate and found all five thousand Trolls kneeling on the ground, weeping along with the song.
"Damn it, are you all crazy? Do you all want to die?"
In a fit of rage, Malkorok severed the heads of the two Trolls.
In the face of the far more ferocious Orcs, Trolls are always cowardly and afraid of death. Normally, they would have been trembling with fear and begging for mercy.
But for some reason, the Trolls found courage and continued to kneel on the ground, weeping incessantly.
An Orcs familiar with the history of the Trolls whispered:
"General, the songs in the mist are probably the Soul's Praise of the Zandalar, said to have been created by a Loa, capable of evoking the ancient glory in the hearts of the Trolls."
Malkorok listened to the faint singing in the mist and roared fiercely:
"What glory could a lowly Troll have? Trolls are the loyal servants of the Orcs, so why have I never heard this song before?"
The Orcs replied:
"This song is ten thousand years old. Ten thousand years ago, Emperor Archaeus of the Zandalari Empire led the Trolls to their glorious peak, surpassing even Queen Azshara. This song is used to praise Emperor Archaeus' achievements. Although it has been lost for a long time, the resonance of this Soul's Praise is engraved in the soul of every Troll."
Malkorok roared arrogantly, "Playing tricks! Someone must be hiding in the fog. We'll find him, tear him to pieces, and eat him!"
The Orcs soldiers scattered and searched into the mist, but found nothing. When Malkorok regrouped his troops, he discovered that all five thousand Trolls had vanished, as if swallowed by the mist.
The Trolls vanished in an instant, leaving no trace.
Malkorok sensed something was wrong. The group wandered through the labyrinthine palace, and after half a day, the Orcs were exhausted and hungry, completely disoriented.
"Unfortunately, those Trolls are gone."
Five thousand Trolls would have been excellent food, and they were also skilled Chef, capable of preparing their people into delicious meals that would feed the Orcs for a week.
An enticing aroma wafted over, drawing the Orcs to a spacious room where a large cauldron, over a hundred meters in diameter, stood in the center.
As the boiling water sizzled and the Runes on the surface of the large pot flickered, countless delicacies rained down from the sky: delicious Tough Jerky, plump roasted quail, large chunks of steamed Tauren meat, and crispy on the outside and tender on the inside Pandaren meat. The soldiers couldn't stop drooling.
Malkorok shouted, "Don't eat any of this! Anyone who disobeys will be executed on the spot! Where is the army doctor? Check if this food is poisoned!"
The Orcs medic bent down to examine the food. Orcs' medical skills were not high, and their method of checking food for poison was simple and crude: they would feed it directly to the lowly Orcs laborers.
After the laborers ate the food, they seemed to show no signs of anything amiss.
But Malkorok remained uneasy and strictly forbade the soldiers from eating the food of unknown origin, continuing to observe the Orcs laborers.
After a long while, the drooling soldiers experienced waves of darkness before their eyes, felt dizzy, and collapsed to the ground, unable to get up.
Malkorok managed to hold onto the wall to avoid falling, but he couldn't stop the waves of dizziness from washing over him, and his last thoughts flooded his mind.
"The soldiers didn't eat this food, so why were they poisoned?"