The Pit Lord Mannoroth suddenly mentioned Gudan.
Thrall was startled and filled with unease, but outwardly showed no sign of it, grinning as he said:
"There is such an older brother, Gudan. He is very strong, but he is exceptionally stubborn and doesn't know the meaning of compromise, making him difficult to get along with."
Mannoroth guessed what Thrall was thinking.
Thrall's greatest fear was being replaced, so he portrayed the Gudan as unruly.
The Burning Legion has never lacked geniuses; what they need more is obedience and submission.
"Gudan was born a powerful being; even within the Burning Legion, he was a once-in-ten-thousand-years genius."
Mannoroth spoke slowly and deliberately, while Thrall's heart was in his throat.
"Your brother avenged you and beat up Rakeesh, which makes perfect sense, doesn't it?"
Thrall's heart, which had been hanging in suspense, finally settled down, and he chuckled:
"I am the great Savior, everything I do is for the fairness and Justice of Azeroth. I hereby issue a warrant for the arrest of the Gudan One, and I will reward him with the High Warlord."
Mannoroth said earnestly, "Well done. For the sake of Azeroth, family ties can be abandoned. You must set an example. I hope our actions will make Rakeesh feel better. The Burning Legion and the Army of the Light are dividing Azeroth; this opportunity is hard-won, and we must cherish it."
Thrall went down to issue the arrest warrant not to "bring the Gudan to justice," but to do his best to mend the rift between the Holy Light and the Burning Legions.
After Thrall disappeared, Mannoroth activated the Legion Communicator and made contact with the Doomwalker in Shadowmoon Valley.
"Has Illidan left the Black Temple recently?" Mannoroth asked, without much hope.
The Doomwalker made a metallic scraping sound, "Lord Mannoroth, I assure you, Illidan has not left the Black Temple by even a fraction of a step."
"So it wasn't Illidan who attacked Rakeesh." Mannoroth's sharp teeth clenched so tightly they rattled. "Even though Rakeesh is that good-for-nothing son of Velen, he's still a high-ranking general in the Legion. To be bullied like this, without even knowing who the enemy is..."
The Doomwalker asked curiously, "I heard the killer used extremely pure Fel energy, could it be..."
Mannoroth's enormous head swayed slightly.
"It wasn't done by the Legion. The Legion's Fel contains a trace of Lord Sargeras's power, but the culprit who beat Rakeesh didn't."
The Doomwalker remained silent; he was merely a newly created Fel Reaver and knew nothing of the Burning Legion's secrets.
Mannoroth said bitterly:
"This matter has had a huge impact on us. A rift has formed, like a broken mirror. Even if we try to piece it back together, the cracks will remain. It will be very difficult for us to continue cooperating with the Army of the Light."
The Doomwalker said viciously, "Why not strike now? A'dal is nothing but a weak and useless piece of trash."
Mannoroth sneered maliciously, "Having such a piece of trash in a high position in the Army of the Light is actually to our advantage. The time isn't right yet; let's take down the Black Temple first. Doomwalker, you cooperate in Shadowmoon Valley; we'll be putting that plan into action immediately."
The Doomwalker said with interest, "My database contains hundreds of similar combat experiences, guaranteeing absolute success."
On the highest terrace of the Black Temple, Illidan, as always, overlooked the land of Shadowmoon Valley.
The Tyrande's Memory in his arms brought him warmth from time to time, which only made him more and more troubled.
High-ranking sorcerer Veras Darkshadow reports to Illidan:
"According to the latest intelligence, the mages of Silvermoon City and the Sunreavers of Dalaran have constructed thousands of Portals in the Tanaris desert, the purpose of which is unknown."
Illidan's facial muscles twitched slightly. "What's coming is finally here. This is Mannoroth's only remaining option to conquer the Black Temple."
Veras Darkshadow looked at Illidan in astonishment; with his limited knowledge, he couldn't understand what Mannoroth was trying to do.
In the distant direction of Shattrath City, a golden ray of light rose, gradually spreading and transforming into a golden sun.
Illidan grinned, revealing his gleaming teeth:
"Look, the Army of the Light is about to move. Many years ago, I was traveling on a certain planet and witnessed an astonishing scene: countless ants piled together to form a mountain several thousand meters high, just so their queen could see what was above the clouds."
"This makes no sense?" Veras Darkshadow, bewildered.
"That's right, it's completely meaningless."
Illidan laughed:
Every life in the universe has its own unique life, regardless of status or wealth; they are all one-of-a-kind. Yet some people always live for others, willing to Consecration everything for the purposes of others, like ants trampled underfoot by their companions. Strangely, people are used to seeing this as a virtue, but in my opinion, it's nothing more than the excuse of a bunch of Imp. Compared to the courage needed to resist tyranny, death is much easier.
Veras Darkshadow suddenly realized a contradiction.
Lord Illidan lived in Azeroth from birth and was imprisoned for ten thousand years.
When will we have the opportunity to travel to other planets?
Golden Holy Light rose from Shattrath City and reflected onto Hellfire Peninsula.
Velen stood on the steps of the Dark Portal, raising the Staff of Holy Light high to guide the Holy Light to the Path of Glory.
Holy Light formed a pale golden mist that covered the entire Path of Glory, transforming this path paved with the bones of the Draenei.
The Draenei souls, nourished by the Holy Light, transformed into Holy Souls, standing densely packed along the Path of Glory, gazing at each other with excitement, and saying:
"By the Holy Light, the time has come; it is time to avenge the Orcs' blood debt."
"My wife and children, are you alright? Are you safe? I've finally returned. Orcs, your end has come."
"I burn my soul for the blood feud in my heart; the tragedy of Shattrath City must not be forgotten."
"Look, that's the Prophet Velen. He awakened us and led us to fight the Orcs, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth."
The Holy Souls of the Path of Glory approach the Dark Portal, preparing to heed the teachings of the Prophet Velen.
The Prophet Velen, with a kind face, raised his scepter of Holy Light and spoke eloquently:
"My dear people, you have endured hardship. The long slumber has finally given way to dawn. The Holy Light has not forgotten us. Your time has come. The despicable enemy has seized the Draenei's sacred site, the Karabor Temple. Burn your Holy Souls, fight for the Holy Light, fight for the freedom of the Draenei."
Among the Holy Souls on the Path of Glory, a few remain conscious and aware of what is happening in the outside world.
One of the Holy Souls, who resembled an archbishop, said:
"Honorable Prophet Velen, it is Illidan who has seized the Black Temple. Illidan is an enemy of the Orcs. Why should we help the Orcs who killed our own people? Please Prophet, dispel your doubts."
Upon hearing this, the Draenei Holy Souls began to discuss it animatedly:
"The Orcs slaughtered us, and who is Illidan?"
"Why bother helping the Orcs in battle, repaying evil with good? Let us continue to slumber."
"We've forced ourselves to stay in this world for revenge. What's the point if our enemy isn't the Orcs?"
Velen said unhappily, "All of this is the will of the Holy Light. Do you dare to doubt the Holy Light?"