Upon hearing Shirrak's explanation, everyone showed expressions of understanding.
Velen's words were a mix of truth and falsehood; his lifespan was measured in tens of thousands of years, so who would believe such an old monster?
The Shirrak the Dead Watcher, was incredibly powerful; even Velen, blessed by the Holy Light, was no match for him.
Velen prayed silently to the Holy Light, pleading as he spoke:
"Spare me! The Draenei are desperate, only the Shadowlands are willing to take us in. I had no choice but to accept the Plague bestowed upon me by the Dreadlord for the sake of the Draenei's survival."
"But you shouldn't have deceived us!" Shirrak roared angrily. "All the suffering I've endured, all the misery of the Tatobo people, I will make you pay for it all!"
Seeing Velen's face contorted and his body as limp as an insect, Shirrak suddenly uttered a strange sound:
"The power of time and space: you are not Velen of this era."
For some unknown reason, Shirrak withdrew the crimson light, leaving Velen to fall to the ground, his body trembling like a leaf.
You can leave now.
Shirrak's figure gradually blurred and disappeared bit by bit.
Velen had narrowly escaped death and it took him a long time to regain some strength before he could barely stand up.
Durotan smiled at Velen and grabbed Gorkan Bloodfist by the collar:
"The evidence is laid bare before you; only you can stop the Mag'har Orcs from their deaths."
Gorkan Bloodfist was deeply moved by what he saw in the Auchenai Crypts.
"I know what to do now. Can you tell me what's inside the spacetime node?"
Mar'gok replied, "It's a Titans Relic. Only a skilled mage can manipulate Titans Relics, Mag'har Orcs have a very poor understanding of magic."
Gerkan was well aware of the Mag'har Orcs' magical abilities, and Cui Tou said dejectedly:
"I understand. The Mag'har Orcs will never be used and die needlessly."
Durotan secretly breathed a sigh of relief; the adventure in Auchenai Crypts had finally paid off.
After leaving the Auchenai Crypts, Gorkan Bloodfist returned to the camp, pondering how to persuade his people without hurting their pride.
Although there is ample evidence to prove that the destruction of the Ogre Empire was unrelated to the Warsong Clan.
But persuading the proud Mag'har Orcs was an almost impossible task.
Even if the evidence is laid bare, the Mag'har Orcs will not admit it; they will always have a reason to defend themselves.
After pondering for a long time, Gorkan Bloodfist decided to find an excuse, such as an invasion of the Black Temple, to send the Mag'har Orcs back to their homes.
Just as he was about to summon the village leaders, a subordinate rushed over in a panic.
"Chief, great joy! The Ancestral Spirits have returned! Senior Gormash Grommash Hellscream, leading a group of Ancestral Spirits, has entered Auchindoun."
"What?"
Gorkan Bloodfist was terrified.
Faced with the Legendary hero, the Ancestral Spirit of Gormash, Gerkan's plan was so pale, powerless, and vulnerable.
Auchindoun's central ceremonial plaza was filled with a large number of Mag'har Orcs, all beaming with joy.
In the center of the square stood a high platform, guarded by about fifty transparent Orcs Ancestral Spirits. Gormash Grommash Hellscream stood on the platform and delivered a speech.
Gerkan squeezed through the crowd and immediately spotted Gormash on the high platform.
Just as described in the Legendary, it was tall and had a ferocious face. Even though it was only a transparent soul, its terrifying majesty still made people feel breathless.
"I'm heartbroken."
Gormash clutched his chest and said sorrowfully:
"Back then, I saw the Ogres enslaving our noble Orcs. I led the Warsong Clan to resist the Ogre's rule. Millions of Orcs united as one and fought against the Ogre Empire for ten whole years. Blood flowed like rivers, and countless comrades died on the battlefield. How spirited, generous, and heroic we were!
"It's a pity that no matter how great a hero is, he cannot escape the Destiny of death. I transformed into the Ancestral Spirit, determined to protect the Orcs. I only slept for a few years, but I never imagined that you would turn this world into this state. The Burning Legion and the Army of the Light are nothing but a bunch of lowly insects. If the Warsong Clan Heroes were still here, defeating them would be a piece of cake."
Gormash's eyes widened as he looked around:
"Look at the state you've become! Hiding in the mountains, cowardly as Sporelings, even Illidan, that clown, can shit on your heads! You've abandoned the great legacy of the Orcs! Where is the Invincible Warsong Clan Legion? Where is the dignity of the Orcs?"
"Fellow countrymen, cease your stubbornness! Courage shines brighter than ten thousand suns. As long as you bravely take up arms and are unafraid of sacrifice, the Mag'har Orcs will surely rise again and rebuild the glory of the Warsong Clan. For the Orcs!"
"For the Orcs!"
Below the stage, the Mag'har Orcs roared and cheered enthusiastically.
After everyone had calmed down, Gormash shouted:
"The Warsong Clan slaughtered the Ogre Empire, plundered their cities, and stored the Ogres Tough Jerky. All the looted treasure is hidden within the spatial nodes of the Mana-Tombs, along with enough weapons and equipment to arm a million Orcs, and twelve thousand chariots. My dear compatriots, we only need to overcome this small obstacle before us, and we will once again become the masters of Outland."
The Mag'har Orcs were overjoyed, tears welling in their eyes. They had waited far too long for this day.
It is what the people want and what everyone hopes for.
"It's over, everything is over."
Gerkan was struck dumb, nearly fainting. He staggered back to the camp and coughed up a mouthful of blood.
Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, Gerkan closed his eyes. Now, all he could do was lead his people back to Hellfire Peninsula.
As for the other Mag'har Orcs, Gerkan was powerless to help them and could only leave it to fate.
With the return of the Ancestral Spirits, the exploration of the Mana-Tombs's spatial nodes is proceeding at a rapid pace, and in just a few days, 30,000 Mag'har Orcs have gone missing.
Nexus-Prince Shaffar successfully drew the map and calculated the correct path to the node.
At the center of the spatial node, a purple cloud of mist shrouded everything; anyone who approached was sucked into the mist, their fate unknown.
Nexus-Prince Shaffar, leading the Consortium, conducted research for several days and reached a conclusion.
The fog of war is a defense mechanism for Node Keys and cannot be broken.
There is only one way: to deplete the defensive mana.
Shafar's rough calculations showed that if 100,000 Mag'har Orcs were willing to die willingly, the defenses would collapse without a fight.
Inspired by the Ancestral Spirit of Gormash, the Mag'har Orcs, disregarding their own lives, shouted ancient Warsong Clan and actively approached the mist.
With the sacrifice of 100,000 Mag'har Orcs, the mist gradually dissipated, revealing its true nature.
A small pyramid, constructed from precious Magic Crystals, shimmers with iridescent light, with a blue staff resting atop it.
Without a doubt, this is Titans Relic, the Node Key.
After years of hard work, the results were finally in, and Nexus-Prince Shaffar was so excited that he trembled all over.
The onlookers, including the Mag'har Orcs, couldn't help but ask, "Where are the Warsong Clan's relics?"
Gormash was prepared, and with a quick glance, he said:
"This staff is a key to secret vaults throughout Draenor. Whoever obtains it will gain access to the Warsong Clan Legacy and restore the Orcs' glory. Which hero is willing to take it?"