The Battle of the Black Temple (Four) - Thanks for Your Monthly Votes

"Speak, what are Lord Mannoroth's conditions?"

Saurfang the Great was prepared to be fleeced.

Dranosh lowered his voice and said, "Lord Mannoroth has asked us to build him a secret lair, known only to the two of us."

Saurfang the Great was pale.

As the saying goes, a cunning rabbit has three burrows.

It's not unusual for a cunning Pit Lord to have secret lairs on multiple planets throughout the universe.

However, the lair of a Pit Lord requires a massive amount of resources.

I'm afraid even the Wealth that Saurfang the Great has accumulated over the years wouldn't be enough.

Saurfang the Great gritted his teeth:

"As long as I'm alive, that's enough. Wealth can be earned back, and with Lord Mannoroth's protection, I have nothing to worry about."

This is a joyous occasion and deserves celebration.

In contrast to Thrall's extravagance, Saurfang the Great was much more frugal, slaughtering only two Tauren as appetizers.

After a few rounds of drinks, Saurfang, slightly tipsy, said admiringly:

"To be honest, Thrall is definitely a talent. Although I'm not entirely convinced, I secretly admire him. We Orcs never fear death; dying on the battlefield is an honor. But Thrall's actions are truly chilling."

In the Battle of the Black Temple, in addition to the heavy losses of the Cannon Fodder Troops in the Caverns of Time, Orgrimmar also suffered heavy casualties, with almost every household having dead.

After all, the Orcs in the Caverns of Time are all new recruits, and they need the Veterans of Orgrimmar to set an example.

Dranosh echoed, "Yes, I've seen too much along the way. Husbands die in the Black Temple, and wives jump for joy, saying they're proud of their husbands. Sons die in the Black Temple, and elderly fathers, left destitute and on the verge of starvation and freezing to death, actually thank Thrall. Couples both die in the Black Temple, and their children are about to wander the streets, dancing for Thrall."

Saurfang the Great nodded regretfully.

"If they truly died for the Orcs, then so be it; they died a worthy and worthwhile death. I only worry that in this great battle, the Orcs will die without a clear reason, quickly forgotten, their deaths meaningless, like ashes scattered by the wind, unknown to anyone."

"Father, what do you think of this great war?" Dranosh asked earnestly.

Saurfang the Great smiled sinisterly, "Thrall is arrogant, and that's his weakness. With Medivh protecting him, no one in Azeroth can rival him, but he dares to challenge the Army of the Light and the Burning Legion. He's not even in the same league. I have a feeling Thrall will suffer a great defeat."

Dranosh nodded, agreeing with his father's assessment, and said sadly, "The Warchief's mistake led to the deaths of millions of innocent Orcs. The tragedy of the Orcs is nothing more than this."

The main hall plaza of the Black Temple was ablaze with raging Fel Fire.

In the center of the lush green Fel Fire stood the towering Infernal Supremus, like a colossal pillar, overlooking the Orcs.

This Fel Fire is extremely strange; once it touches even a tiny spark, it cannot be extinguished until the body is completely burned away.

Supremus roared defiantly, "Come on, Orcs, prepare for your miserable Destiny!"

The Fel Fire blocked the Orcs' path, leaving Orcs at a loss.

A command came from the rear from Warchief Thrall, ordering them to overcome all difficulties and continue advancing.

A Veteran gritted his teeth and said loudly to the soldiers around him:

"As far as I know, all elements in this world are finite. This wretched Infernal, though powerful, will eventually run out of its Fel. My fellow countrymen, I will set an example. For the sake of our Savior Thrall, what is there to lose? Let us use our blood to extinguish the flames of Infernal."

The Orcs Veteran slit the carotid artery in his neck, blood gushing out, and charged towards the Fel Fire while shouting slogans.

"For the great Savior, Thrall."

With the first example set, more and more Orcs extinguished the Fel Fire with their own blood.

A few timid Orcs hesitated to advance, and were immediately criticized by the other Orcs:

"You cowardly piece of trash, you're afraid of death! The great Savior Thrall saved Azeroth time and time again, Consecration everything he had. What have you done in return?"

Whether they liked it or not, large numbers of Orcs fell in the main hall square.

As Orcs blood gushed forth, countless Orcs fell one after another, and the hellfire seemed to weaken.

This gave the Orcs hope, and more and more Orcs joined the ranks of the dead.

Supremus was deeply shocked, even though he was just a heartless Infernal created as a war machine.

But at this moment, he felt something was amiss, as if something was wrong.

In the council chamber of the Black Temple, Duchess Malande reported to Illidan with a blank expression:

"My lord, Supremus couldn't hold them off any longer. The Orcs extinguished the Fel Fire at the cost of 500,000 gold. As you requested, I retrieved his Infernal Core."

Illidan opened his eyes, and the vengeful spirits pressed down on him like a mountain, seemingly unwilling to move.

"Understood. Order Gurtug Bloodboil and Talon Blooddemon to form a defensive line to hold off the Orcs and cover the retreat of the Soul Casket. This artifact cannot be left to the Orcs. Tell Highmother Shahraz to prepare the retreat Portal. The generals of the Black Temple are my most loyal subordinates; they cannot be lost."

Illidan had planned it all along; his defeat was only temporary, and he would one day return with renewed vigor.

His loyal generals from the Black Temple form his core group, guaranteeing his resurgence.

Duchess Malande hesitated for a moment, but finally couldn't help but say, "Lord Illidan, why not order the Demon Hunters to withdraw from Mardum? We've already scouted out that Thrall is in Shadowmoon Village. Let Vandel lead a raid, kill Thrall, and the Orcs army will collapse without a fight."

Illidan chuckled and said, "Thrall is just a smokescreen. Behind him are the Holy Light and the Burning Legion. Never mind, I have my own plans for this."

With the decisive battle imminent, the Illidari Council could no longer remain seated in their meeting rooms and rushed to the front lines.

In the vast Council Chamber, only Illidan remained seated on the throne, his pained expression revealing no one else around him.

"This terrible curse from a vengeful spirit is truly unbearable!"

Illidan struggled to raise his hand, and Tyrande's Memories fell out of his arms. He hesitated for a moment, then bent down to pick them up.

Footsteps sounded outside the door. Illidan was not surprised, only raising his eyebrows almost imperceptibly.

"How does it feel to be haunted by vengeful spirits, Lord Illidan?" A figure appeared in the doorway, and a putrid stench filled the air.

"Interesting, I didn't expect it to be you," Illidan laughed.

"You seem to be waiting for someone." The speaker entered the council chamber, revealing a rotten Evil face beneath a dark red hood.

Illidan chuckled, "I thought it was Gul'tugg Bloodboil who came. That brainless Orcs is easily swayed by Thrall. I didn't expect someone as clever as you to trust Thrall so easily. Talon Bloodlord, you were Gul'dan's subordinate when you were alive, but it's a pity you didn't learn his cunning and treachery?"

Talon Bloodlord laughed loudly, "Illidan, you're so weak, yet you still dare to spout such nonsense. Kill you, and I will become the lord of Shadowmoon Valley, as Lord Eitrigg personally promised me."

Before he finished speaking, Talon Bloodlord raised his War Glaive and Charge at Illidan.