Those Who Lose the Way Find Much Support (3)

Thrall, driven mad with hunger, gathered the other three together and proclaimed in a loud voice:

"In our Orcs history, there is a traditional virtue: whenever the tribe's food is scarce, ordinary Orcs will Consecration their flesh and blood to their esteemed chieftain. This fine tradition has been well preserved. Who among you wishes to receive this great honor?"

Elemental Lords Morchok said indifferently, "If you can bite through stone, I'd be more than willing."

Hagara the Stormbinder sensed Thrall's gaze and shrugged, saying:

"I would gladly accept this honor, but I must say that every piece of my flesh is filled with the power of the wind. If you eat my flesh, your intestines will be torn to shreds, and you will die a gruesome death."

With the enslavement pact in place, Hagara couldn't lie. Thrall clearly felt the power of the wind and hurriedly withdrew his greedy gaze, finally looking at Anachronos.

"You are the son of Nozdormu, the son of the Dragon Aspects. You should have the noble ambition to save Azeroth. Don't make me look down on you, Anachronos. The reputation of the Bronze Dragonflight rests on your shoulders. Will you generously Consecration your flesh and blood, or become a villain who destroys Azeroth?"

Anachronos loudly refused, "Impossible, Thrall, I am not your Servant."

Thrall said grimly, "Even your father Nozdormu was eaten by me. You are nothing but a piece of trash. You dare to refuse my kindness? Don't blame me for being impolite. Morchok, Hagara, subdue this vile dragon. I will devour his flesh."

Both Morchok and Hagara hated Anachronos to the core; if it weren't for him acting as Thrall's accomplice, they wouldn't have ended up in this state.

Upon receiving Thrall's order, Morchok was the first to rush forward, delivering a simple punch to Anachronos. Anachronos knew he was no match for Morchok in strength, and struggled to fly, only to find his limbs firmly gripped by fists formed from Lava.

Bang!

Anachronos took a heavy punch, blood gushing from his mouth and nose. At the same time, Hagara completed his spell, and a terrifying gray Wind Blade silently struck, directly attacking the weakest point under his wing. Anachronos let out a scream as his right wing was nearly severed.

Morchok strode forward, stepping on Anachronos's head, and reached into his wound, tearing off a large chunk of flesh, bigger than Thrall's body, and threw it in front of Thrall.

Thrall's mouth watered, and he quickly ordered, "Don't kill this dragon! Let him live! I need fresh meat to eat at any time."

Anachronos was too weak to scream anymore; he collapsed to the ground, whimpering in pain.

Driven by hunger, Thrall grabbed a piece of bloody dragon meat and put it in his mouth, chewing it with relish. Suddenly, his expression changed, and he abruptly spat out the meat he had just swallowed.

What came out was not chewed meat, but a clump of grayish-white, rotten material. At the same time, the other meat also changed; it lost moisture rapidly, and the blood-red meat turned white at a visible speed, falling everywhere like rotten cotton.

"Anachronos, this must be your doing! Do you want to destroy Azeroth?" Thrall roared furiously.

Anachronos wept bitterly, saying aggrievedly, "It wasn't me! There's something strange about the mist here; I'm innocent!"

Thrall looked puzzled, unsure whether to believe it or not.

Morchok said with ill intent, "My Savior, the Tough Jerky you brought hasn't changed."

After being reminded by Morchok, Thrall immediately realized what was happening and his eyes widened:

"Anachronos, do you think you can escape being eaten by me like this? You should know that all the Destroyers who oppose me deserve to die."

Anachronos was nearly in despair, pleading painfully, "It really has nothing to do with me, how can you believe me?"

Hagara the Stormbinder, was obsessed with magic. Seeing this strange situation, he became curious, picked up a piece of rotten material, analyzed it carefully, and quickly came to a conclusion.

"Anachronos is innocent," the kind-hearted Hagara whispered. "His flesh and blood were rich in magic; it was the evaporation of that magic that took away the nutrients from his flesh and blood."

Thrall snorted coldly. He believed Hagara's words, after all, there was a contract binding them.

All four gave up. Morchok sat on the ground dozing, Hagara sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, trying to gather Elemental Power, Anachronos lay on the ground, whimpering and licking his wounds, and Thrall could only lie on the ground to conserve his energy.

It seems they've reached a dead end.

In the Heizong Tauren camp, the voice of the Earth Mother suddenly echoed in Chieftain Jianjiao Heiti's mind, "Arise! Lead your people to Blackhorn's abode. The great Savior Thrall is in distress and needs your help. All this is for the salvation of Azeroth."

Jianjiao Heiti hurriedly summoned his people, and thousands of Heizong Tauren set off for the seven mountain peaks where Blackhorn lived. Jianjiao Heiti had no doubt about Earth Mother.

The Heizong Tauren were very familiar with this place; they knew how terrifying these mists were, especially after the ominous Blackhorn took over, turning this place into a veritable den of demons.

Jianjiao Heiti hesitated only for a moment before ordering his people to head into the mist.

In the ruins of an ancient palace built of massive stones, the War Master Blackhorn slammed his fist on a stone table in a fit of rage.

"Jianjiao Heiti, you're such a fool! I warned you long ago not to believe in any Earth Mother. It's not protection; it's just deception and trickery."

Blackhorn was quite helpless. He waved his hand, and the many Void Creatures around him stopped casting spells.

The silver mist has a mysterious origin; some Void Creatures who have joined Blackhorn told him that this mist is related to the Old Gods.

Although the Void Creatures under Blackhorn's command are weak, some of them are quite knowledgeable and know how to utilize the mist.

Confused Thrall and his companions, preventing them from escaping the mist, is one technique used to manipulate the fog. Unfortunately, this magic has a flaw: it becomes ineffective once the number of people exceeds the limit.

Blackhorn can trap a maximum of twelve people in the fog; any more than that and it won't work.

Thousands of Heizong Tauren entered the mist, and his magic immediately lost its effect.

"It's not over yet, Thrall. We'll see."

Blackhorn led a large group of Void Creatures to the back of the palace and into a deep cave, an ancient tomb that Blackhorn had unintentionally discovered.

In a daze, Thrall vaguely saw a group of delicious Tauren walking towards him. Thrall thought he was dreaming, so he quickly jumped up, grabbed the tenderest one, bit off its neck, and devoured the flesh. The feeling of being full was wonderful.

The Jianjiao Heiti looked embarrassed as he watched Thrall devour his youngest son.

Thrall ate to his heart's content, tossing the dead Tauren aside. Only then did he notice the thousands of Tauren gathered around him, their eyes filled with fear as they looked at Thrall.

Jianjiao Heiti knelt on the ground and humbly said, "Great Savior Thrall, I am Jianjiao Heiti, chieftain of the Heizong Tauren, and I am willing to serve you, my Savior."

Thrall looked around and realized that the scenery had changed; deep within the silver mist, the ruins of a vast palace were faintly visible.