"It's only been a few days, and its fangs are getting bigger and bigger, and its skin is as rough as sand."
Emperor Ata gazed at his reflection in the water, stroking his two protruding, thick fangs.
"Man-eating Tusk blood, disgusting," Emperor Ata scoffed.
After being swept away from the City of the Sky by the crowds, Emperor Ata headed in one direction. He only needed to overcome a few difficulties, such as solving the problem of food, and everything would be fine.
Not far from the City of the Sky lies a secret cave containing abundant supplies and an ancient Portal leading to the distant south.
A secluded paradise outside the Zandalari Empire.
A secret palace was built there, with a large retinue of loyal servants, ensuring that Emperor Ata would continue to live a life of luxury and wealth for the next few centuries.
Emperor Ata touched the key in his inner pocket; it was the key to open the Portal.
It was originally less than a day's journey, but unfortunately, Emperor Ata rarely walked, and it took him three days to reach the destination, and he was starving.
A Troll wearing a pointed hat sat by the roadside, eyeing Emperor Ata as he passed by.
The pointed hat was the symbol of tax collectors, a group of people who helped the King collect taxes, but unfortunately, Emperor Ata did not recognize them.
"Hey, I'm talking to you, old man, it's time to pay your taxes." The tax collector stood up and called out.
Emperor Ata was furious, and for a moment forgot his own predicament:
"You bastard, do you want to die? Do you know who you're talking to?"
The tax collector, who had been looking at Emperor Ata with a nonchalant air, suddenly raised his fist and slammed it hard into Emperor Ata's face.
Emperor Ata felt a sudden darkness engulf him; half a tooth fell out, his mouth was full of blood, and he collapsed to the ground, unable to get up, whimpering without making a sound.
The tax collector grabbed Emperor Ata's foot and dragged him along.
"The great tomb of Emperor Ata is under construction and urgently needs manpower. I don't care who you are, you lowly bastard, how dare you talk back to me."
Ulda, holding the crystal ball, tracked down the location of Emperor Ata.
We're almost there.
Ulda looked up and saw a mausoleum under construction.
Countless figures were busy at work, including many tall Construct carrying huge stones, indicating that the project was nearing completion.
Ulda noticed that those figures with sharp fangs, despite working incredibly hard, didn't break a sweat.
"Undead creatures." Ulda was secretly astonished.
This is the construction site of the King's Rest at the Mount Mugamba.
Ulda traced the key's location, leading directly to a young Troll.
Whether royalty or commoners, Witch Doctors or Priests, the Zandalar have all been transformed into fanged monsters.
Strangely, this richly dressed young man still had delicate features and no visible fangs.
A large group of aliens, mostly Undead, were gathered around the young man, holding leather whips and appearing to be overseers.
The young man was toying with a gleaming gold key in his hand.
Ulda stepped forward without ceremony and asked, "Where are you from?"
The young man looked up at Ulda and said expressionlessly, "We found something on the slave."
"Do you know what this key means?" Ulda asked.
The young man was very unhappy. "Do you know who I am? I am the noble Prince Dasa."
The alien Undead surrounded them, but Ulda, relying on her superior magical power, was not afraid.
"Prince Highness, do you know what happened in the City of the Sky?"
Dasa looked puzzled.
The Zandalari Empire was in chaos, Prince Dasa's intelligence network had long since failed, and he was surrounded by Undead, so he was unaware of what had happened in the City of the Sky.
Ulda gave a brief account of recent events and the disappearance of Emperor Ata, while Prince Dasa's expression remained uncertain.
"You mean, the people of Zandalar have all turned into fanged monsters?"
Ulda nodded. "Yes."
Prince Dasa pointed to his face. "Why haven't I changed?"
Ulda pondered for a long time before saying, "Perhaps the imperial blood within you is exceptionally concentrated."
Prince Dasa could no longer remain calm; he paced back and forth for a long while before finally speaking:
Previously, only those branded as slaves would become monsters, but now my father has become one of them. The slaves sent over the past few days haven't turned into Undead yet, but how am I supposed to find him?
Prince Dasa summoned the slaves who had been brought in the past few days, totaling more than five hundred. The hard labor of the past few days had left them unrecognizable, and their appearances made it impossible to tell them apart. The slave brands had also made them lose their minds and their memories blurred. Ulda questioned them one by one, but could not find Emperor Ata.
"Prince Dasa, there is only one way now."
Ulda said seriously:
"With just a drop of your blood, I can detect the concentration of imperial blood in these slaves. The imperial blood flowing in your father's veins must be far more concentrated than that of ordinary people."
Prince Dasa extended his right hand. "Why aren't you moving yet?"
A drop of bright red blood flowed in the jade plate, and as countless symbols flashed, a dazzling golden light shone above Prince Dasa's head, representing the rich and pure imperial blood.
Ulda approached the five hundred slaves, holding the jade plate.
Strangely, no light appeared above the slaves' heads.
"How is this possible?"
Ulda tried all the slaves, but to no avail.
"According to Zandalar history, the Zandalar are descendants of Man-eating Tusk and royal blood, and should have some imperial blood. Why is this the case?"
Ulda scratched his head, puzzled, and asked:
"But the experimental results tell me that, including your father, the Zandalar people have not a single trace of imperial blood in them. Where did things go wrong? Who is lying?"
Ulda stared intently at Prince Dasa: "Why are you different from them?"
Dasa sat blankly in the chair for a long while before muttering:
"All Zandalar are born in temples, but I wasn't."
"Huh?" Ulda looked surprised.
"My mother died young, and my father told me that I was born in the Blood Marsh while he was on a pilgrimage and didn't have time to return to the temple."
Dasa suddenly seemed to realize something, a strange light flashing in his eyes:
"I noticed when I was a child that my appearance was different from my father and brothers, which led to me being bullied. My father initially valued me highly, but later he gave up on me and sent me here to build a mausoleum. Was I adopted?"
Dasa's eyes reddened, and she began to sob.
Ulda placed her hand on his shoulder, showing deep sympathy, and asked:
What are your thoughts going forward?
Dasa wiped away his tears. "The King's Rest is almost finished. I need to wrap up the project here as soon as possible and return to the City of the Sky to take charge."
"And what about these slaves?" Ulda asked, pointing to the more than five hundred slaves.
Dasa said grimly, "According to the rules, it's suicide by sacrifice."
Afterward, Ulda traveled throughout Zandalar and came to a terrible conclusion.
The Zandalar imperial race has been wiped out, and Prince Dasa may be the last descendant.
The people of Zandalar today are actually Man-eating Tusk Clan, and the Zandalari Empire exists in name only.
What is recorded in the Dark Scepter may not all be true.
A coastal city in the Zandalari Empire.
The Corrupted Blood spread, and countless Zandalar died.
The corpses couldn't be moved in time, and a stench filled the city, Thrall.
"If the Corrupted Blood is the Zandalari Empire's superweapon, what's the point of us fighting to the death?"