The dense black forest, with its towering trees tinged with an ominous purple, and its twisting vines like venomous snakes, seemed to be eyeing the intruders.
The power of shadow lingers here, and all creatures in the forest have been Corruption. After a long period of elimination and evolution, living beings and the Shadow power have achieved a symbiotic relationship.
This is the ruins of the Arakkoa Empire. Many years ago, the Arakkoa used the power of the sun to create the incomparably glorious Apexis Civilization, and at that time they were the rulers of the Draenor World.
Legendary that the destruction of the Apexis Civilization was related to the power of shadow, evidenced by the fact that the ruins of most of the Arakkoa are filled with eerie Shadow Energy.
Garrosh was very uncomfortable with the Shadow Energy, and his skin was constantly subjected to a needle-like stinging pain.
If it weren't for the Ogre Grimak occasionally stopping to help him dispel the Shadow Energy, Garrosh would never have entered this hellish place.
The ruins of the Arakkoa hold countless treasures, yet few treasure hunters survive; this eerie Shadow power can lead one astray.
After walking for most of the day in the dark forest, Garrosh was exhausted and hungry; it was easier to burn off his energy here than anywhere else.
"Who are we supposed to see?" Garrosh wondered to himself. "Could it be Gul'dan?"
The ruins of the Arakkoa and the Shadow power easily evoke the Shadow Council Shadow Council, whose founder was none other than Gul'dan.
Grimak grinned. "Gul'dan, a nice name. Too bad you guessed wrong. We're going to meet a bunch of rejected Orcs."
Garrosh was puzzled, and Grimak asked:
Do you know who taught the Orcs their Shaman path?
Although reluctant to admit it, Garrosh honestly replied:
"They are Draenei."
Grimak's gaze was somewhat strange:
"That's right. Shaman path was originally one of the Draenei magical schools. When the Draenei entered Draenor World, the Prophet Velen carried out a racial purification, eliminating all magical schools except for the Path of the Holy Light, including Shaman path."
Garrosh disagreed, stating that Shaman existed in Exodar in his time.
Grimak noticed Garrosh's question and explained:
"The Draenei still retain Shaman path, but compared to the Shaman of their most glorious era, they are merely beginners. True Shaman path exceptionally profound; a skilled Shaman can manipulate the power of heaven and earth, easily destroying a city. The Shaman could have killed Velen, but Velen was protected by the Naaru, so they were forced into exile, teaching the Orcs a few Shaman spells in the wilderness. Unfortunately, the Shaman Orcs quickly went astray."
The dark forest was oppressive and somber.
As they walked, the sky suddenly brightened, and a magnificent manor appeared before them.
"This is the headquarters of the Shaman have strayed onto the evil path. Welcome to the Hall of Revelers," Grimak chuckled.
The manor features numerous palace-like buildings, countless pavilions and towers, all nestled among lush greenery, with small bridges Flowing Water.
Garrosh's eyes widened. Was this the abode of the Shaman had strayed onto the wrong path? It was hard to imagine that such a beautiful scene existed within the Black Forest.
Stepping into the manor through the main gate, one is greeted by priceless green peridot paving the ground, white jade-like railings, houses adorned with gold and jade, and countless female Orcs frolicking among them.
A tall, burly old Orcs with a face full of scars stepped forward, accompanied by a group of guards.
Outsiders are not welcome here.
The old Orcs roared furiously, and before Garrosh could say anything, the guards restrained him.
Garrosh was a warrior, but these Orcs possessed a strange power that rendered him powerless.
Strangely, the Orcs ignored Grimak.
Garrosh was escorted to the main hall, a lavishly decorated hall covered with blood-red carpets. Large groups of Orcs in gorgeous clothes sat or lay down, drinking and making merry. Accompanied by cheerful music, maids brought out countless delicacies and wines. The Orcs ate meat and drank wine heartily, laughing wildly, but occasionally it sounded like the howling of ghosts.
Seated on the throne at the front was an elderly Orcs, wearing a black crown, with a beard that dragged on the carpet, eyebrows like two brooms, and a pair of eerie purple eyes staring at Garrosh.
Garrosh was thrown to the ground. Peeking over, he saw Grimak eating and drinking heartily, seemingly oblivious to everyone else.
"New guy, what's your name?"
Garrosh answered nervously:
"Little Garrosh."
Garrosh wisely refrained from revealing his surname; the surname Grommash Hellscream sounded unusual and could easily provoke dislike.
"Outsider, do you know who I am?" the old Orcs on the throne asked.
Garrosh shook his head.
The old Orcs's long eyebrows trembled as he angrily waved his arms.
"You have forgotten me, forgotten our great ancestors, forgotten who saved you from savagery. Listen up, boy, I am the Ancient Beast Emperor, Draenor, and this world is named after me."
A storm raged within Garrosh's heart. So much of the Orcs' history had been lost; who was the Ancient Beast Emperor?
The old Orcs vented his anger, but quickly calmed down, waving his hand and saying:
"Outsider, we spend our days drinking and reveling here. You are lucky to share this glory with us. Where is Goudan? Prepare food for the newlyweds."
A young Orcs almost jogged in, quickly bringing out delicious food and wine, and placing them in front of Garrosh.
The enticing aroma wafted into his nose, Garrosh, who was indeed starving, was about to grab a piece of roasted meat and put it in his mouth when the young Orcs secretly nudged Garrosh with his elbow.
Garrosh was bewildered. The roasted meat in front of him had become rotten and spoiled, with black maggots crawling out. The so-called fine wine was nothing but filthy Blackwater.
Looking around, the Orcs were eating the same food as Garrosh, except that Grimak's food and wine were fresh.
The Ancient Beast Emperor on the throne glanced at Garrosh:
"What's wrong, guest? Doesn't this suit your taste?"
Garrosh retorted, "I ate some dry rations on the road; I am not hungry."
"Then sing and dance to your heart's content!"
Several robust female Orcs walked in, Garrosh stared intently, seeing clearly the withered bones emanating a dark aura.
Garrosh barely managed to suppress a scream, while the young Orcs called "Goudan" said in a low, subservient voice:
"Your Majesty, please allow me to help this guest bathe and change, washing away the dust from his body, before we join in the revelry."
The Ancient Beast Emperor nodded. "Get down, get down. I've had enough of this guy's stench."
The young Orcs actually prepared a bucket of Fresh Water for Garrosh to bathe in.
Garrosh, feeling more relaxed as he soaked in the warm water, asked:
"Thank you for your help. Where is this place?"
The young Orcs whispered, "Be careful, don't look around. The more you see, the worse it will be for you. This is the Realm of the Departed, and also an immortal holy land."
What holy site?
"A sacred place for learning the Shaman path."
Hope clearly shone in the young Orcs's eyes:
"Only here can you learn the true Shaman path."