Once they left the village, Cairne Bloodhoof was the first to lose his temper and cursed:
"Damn it, that elder lied to us."
By now, Vol'jin had calmed down and said in a low voice, "I acted impulsively; I shouldn't have argued with him."
Griftah chuckled and said, "Don't worry, this is just one clue. We all know that Orcs are habitual liars, so we have to judge and observe for ourselves."
In the next Mag'har Orcs village, the mustachioed elder accepted a bag of Tough Jerky, his eyes Liuliu around:
"The Spires of Arak sank into the Zangarmarsh, right beneath Serpent Lake. There's a black Portal at the bottom of the lake—it's true, I saw it with my own eyes."
The three hurriedly took their leave.
In yet another village, an arrogant Orcs elder greedily eyed the Tough Jerky, speaking with absolute certainty:
"Do you know Shadowmoon Valley? The mist of Shadowmoon Valley is formed from the evaporated blood of the Wind Serpent God Sethe. The Spires of Arak overlap with Shadowmoon Valley; you can see it as long as you fly to the foot of Shadowmoon Valley."
"Nonsense," Vol'jin muttered to himself.
Dozens of leads in a row turned out to be unreliable boasts.
This was largely thanks to Vol'jin's extensive knowledge and experience, coupled with his considerable time with Thrall, which allowed him to understand how Orcs lied.
Otherwise, they would have been completely fooled long ago.
Deep in the mountains, there is an ancient Orcs village.
A gaunt hermit took the Tough Jerky and carefully smelled it:
"Orcs flesh and blood... could the rumors be true?"
The village had existed for a long time, unlike the Orcs who moved in later. Although the villagers were all emaciated, they were in excellent spirits.
Vol'jin clearly sensed the power of shadow within them.
The Orcs hermit said in a deep voice, "We realized long ago that Orcs live not by eating, but by the energy of the shadows. We are Shadow Fasting Clans, living here like rats for a long time."
"May I ask your name?" Vol'jin asked earnestly.
The Orcs hermit shook his head. "I don't remember. My name existed a long time ago, before the Draenei entered Draenor."
Vol'jin was astonished; by that calculation, the orc Orcs had lived for over eight hundred years.
The hermit introduced himself, "We call ourselves Shadow Walkers. Originally, the Clans numbered over fifty thousand. After receiving Shadow Energy, most of the clan members perished, leaving fewer than a thousand survivors. The shadows granted us long lifespans, but robbed us of our reproductive abilities. Over the years, due to various accidents, the clan has steadily declined, and now there are fewer than a hundred of us."
An ancient race on the verge of extinction.
"We want to go to the Spires of Arak; we'll reward you handsomely." After several setbacks, Vol'jin was almost ready to give up.
The hermit hesitated for a moment, then said:
"I don't know the location of the Spires of Arak either; the only way there is through magical teleportation. I have three scrolls here, so I'll give them to you."
The hermit handed over three scrolls, Griftah examined carefully before nodding to Vol'jin.
"It's this kind of scroll."
After Griftah used the scroll and disappeared, Vol'jin and Cairne also used the scroll.
With a flash of light, the three appeared at the top of a cliff.
Below lies an endless Abyss, dotted with floating islands of all sizes, the largest as large as a mountain peak and the smallest only the size of a fist.
The Elemental Power roared in his ears, Vol'jin was certain that he was indeed in Outland.
A winding path extends from the cliff, past rugged peaks and tall trees.
Griftah led the way, and by the roadside was a camp of Arakkoa. One of the Arakkoa came out to greet them, warmly grasping Griftah's arms:
"Griftah, it really is you. After we parted last time, I thought you would never come back."
"Azik, my old friend, it's so good to see you! How have you been lately?"
The two old friends chatted warmly, Vol'jin breathed a sigh of relief, but at the same time, he was secretly worried.
I breathed a sigh of relief because Griftah wasn't lying.
The concern is that Griftah is very familiar with this place, and if he turns against Vol'jin may not escape death.
"Any news about the Eye of Anzu lately?" Griftah asked in a low voice.
Azik cautiously looked around and said mysteriously:
"Someone has seen the Eye of Anzu, right ahead in Skettis, a once great city reduced to ruins, Lower City, and a place haunted by ghosts. It's truly pitiful."
"We're here for the Eye of Anzu." Griftah pointed at Vol'jin: "This guy's very interested in the Eye of Anzu."
Azik examined Cairne Bloodhoof closely and asked in confusion:
"What kind of creature is this? Why does it have two horns on its head?"
"This is Tauren, from the Azeroth, just like me," Griftah explained with a smile. "Azik, my old friend, to whom can I ask about the whereabouts of the Eye of Anzu?"
"The Archivist Reshad, must know the whereabouts of the Eye of Anzu," Azik said in a low voice. "Reshad is a difficult fellow; hopefully, you can persuade him."
Walking along the road, before long, the ruins of an ancient city came into view.
The walls were crumbling, with only foundations remaining in many places. In the dilapidated buildings, the emaciated Arakkoa eyed the outsiders with ill intent.
Vol'jin noticed that these Arakkoa possessed a greater abundance of Shadow Energy.
"Thank goodness it's daytime," Griftah reminded Vol'jin. "Skettis is a dangerous city; at night, it's teeming with the Undead, whispering tales of its former glory."
With Cairne leading the way, the powerful Tauren Chieftain successfully intimidated the Arakkoa.
Inside the tallest building in the very center of Skettis, amidst the ruins, the three found Archivist Reshad.
"Three adventurers from elsewhere... wait, why are there such strange creatures?" Reshad looked at Cairne Bloodhoof in astonishment.
Griftah called out loudly, "Archivist Reshad, may I ask you about the whereabouts of the Eye of Anzu?"
"Oh, you want to find the Eye of Anzu? That's not difficult. Why don't you treat me to Tough Jerky?" Reshad smelled the aroma of Tough Jerky.
Cairne untied a bag of Tough Jerky and handed it to him. Reshad said happily, "I really like the taste of Orcs. Listen, there's a row of statues at the front gate. Go find a pair of sharp Wingblade. There's a statue on the east side with a white mask on its face. Bring me the Wingblade and the mask. Also, you are forbidden to speak to the residents of Skettis. Don't ask why."
The three walked through the dirty, dilapidated streets of Skettis. Worried, Vol'jin asked in a low voice:
"Reshad knows we're here for the Eye of Anzu, why would he betray it for a bag of Tough Jerky?"
Griftah chuckled, "The Arakkoa often enter Skettis in search of the Eye of Anzu, all in order to obtain the prophecy. The people of Skettis are at ease; no one can take the Eye of Anzu away."
"Why can't you take it with you?" Vol'jin asked in surprise.
"You'll understand when you see the Eye of Anzu," Griftah said solemnly. "No one can take the Eye of Anzu away except through the method I've taught you."
[2000novel. com updates the latest chapters and fixes errors in real time, supporting simplified and traditional Chinese reading and searching]