Mela Highmountain's icy gaze swept across the entire area, and all the Tauren wisely kept their mouths shut.
"Highmountain belongs to me. Joining forces with the great Savior Thrall is the path of Justice. How can it be considered betrayal?"
Mela Gaoling's voice rose higher and higher, her words assertive and her reasons compelling.
Surrender is a disgrace.
Refusing to surrender is tantamount to betraying the chief.
What happens when a chief's orders conflict with his own moral principles?
For ordinary Tauren, the chieftain must be acknowledged to be right.
But we must also admit that surrendering was wrong.
If you don't have the courage to rebel against the chief, and you don't want to surrender, then death is the only option for you.
Large numbers of Highmountain Tauren jumped down from the Thunder Totem, like dumplings being dropped into a pot.
"For Highmountain."
For Azeroth.
Mela Gaoling roared in anger, "Fool! You'd rather die than sell to the Orcs?"
In Mela Highmountain's view, the Highmountain Tauren are her private property.
Each Tauren is a heavy bargaining chip; the more Tauren betrays to the Savior, the higher one's status will be.
Chen Stormstout watched this scene in astonishment. More than 10,000 Lightforging Orcs had been sacrificed, yet the number of Highmountain Tauren killed was far less than the number who committed suicide.
Immediately afterwards, the Thunder Totem Gate opened wide, and Mela Highmountain led a large group of Spiritwalker to kneel before Chen Stormstout.
Mela Gaoling crawled a few steps on her knees and said humbly:
"Warchief, Thunder Totem will always be open to you; this is your dining hall, Highmountain Tauren are more than willing to be your food."
Chen Stormstout with a smug look, savored the taste of power.
"Thrall, what would you do if you were in my shoes?"
Chen Stormstout, seemingly embracing the role of Thrall, grinned and said:
"Very good. I am glad to see the Highmountain Tauren have come to their senses and joined the ranks of those saving Azeroth, gloriously becoming food."
Mela Gaoling looked up, her face beaming with excitement:
"It is an honor for the Highmountain Tauren."
Behind her, countless Highmountain Tauren bowed their heads and shed tears of sorrow.
Glory belongs to the chieftain, misery is borne by all the Highmountain Tauren.
Chen Stormstout, learning from Thrall, established a Slaughterhouse at the Rathalos Totem, where countless Highmountain Tauren were slaughtered.
This was a catastrophe, and the news quickly spread throughout Azeroth.
Amidst the panic and terror, people realized that Chen Stormstout was just as ruthless as Thrall.
Fear is the best form of intimidation.
Countless praises poured in from all directions, thanking Chen Thrall Stormstout for defeating the Highmountain Tauren and saving Azeroth once again.
The Broken Isles, Val'sharah, Temple of the Moon.
Tyrande ended her prayer.
Lately, enlightenment has become increasingly vague, and I haven't received any divine guidance from the Moon Goddess for quite some time.
Tyrande felt like she was walking in a fog, unable to see clearly, and desperately needed guidance.
Highmountain Tauren's tragedy reached Tyrande's ears, she couldn't help but recall Thrall's Dragonblood Orcs from years past.
In just over a decade, the Highmountain Tauren has once again encountered calamity.
Although reluctant, Tyrande still sent priests to Orgrimmar to congratulate Chen Stormstout for saving Azeroth.
Tyrande strolled through the courtyard of the Temple of the Moon. The sky wasn't bright; a wisp of haze obscured the sun.
For some reason, Tyrande felt a tightness in her chest, as if something was about to happen.
A strange sound reached Tyrande's ears. She jumped up, looked around warily, quickly breathed a sigh of relief, and complained:
"Malfurion, is this game fun?"
Right behind Tyrande, Malfurion, who had transformed into a cheetah, broke his stealth.
"Tyrande, you're still as vigilant as ever," Malfurion chuckled.
Tyrande looked displeased and subtly retorted sarcastically:
"How did you end your slumber? Was it because Ysera is no longer in the Emerald Dream?"
Malfurion touched his nose and smiled wryly:
"I feel like Ysera deceived us. Anyway, let's not talk about that anymore. What do you think of the rise of Chen Stormstout?"
Tyrande replied calmly, "Of course, it's to seek guidance from the Elune."
Malfurion sat on a stone stool to the side, lost in thought, and said:
"Poor Mela Gaoling, we met just the other day. If you faced the same choice as her, what would you do?"
Tyrande's furrowed brows and glared eyes revealed her distrust of the Moon Goddess; if Malfurion were not her companion, it would be blasphemy.
"Elune, will not allow the Night Elves to fall into such a situation."
Malfurion shook his head slightly and said seriously:
"Ten thousand years have passed. Countless lessons have been learned: the rise of the Kobold Empire, the rapid proliferation of Murlocs, the threat of the Furbolg, and most recently, the Burning Legion's invasion. When has Elune, ever helped us? Just as Huln Highmountain wouldn't help the Highmountain Tauren, when has Elune, ever cared about our lives?"
Tyrande was furious, almost bursting with rage. "Shut up, Malfurion! Stop doubting the Moon Goddess right now!"
"Countless lessons have been taught us, yet you still refuse to acknowledge them." Malfurion shook his head in disappointment.
"When Ysera was around, even in the worst-case scenario, we could take refuge in the Emerald Dream, and all races had to give the Green Dragonflight some face. Now that Ysera is gone, if Chen Stormstout leads the Lightforging Orcs to attack, are you just going to kneel in the Temple of the Moon and pray?"
Tyrande's face twisted in pain. "I don't understand, Malfurion, what made you come up with such a wicked idea? It's utterly foolish."
Even with countless facts before her, Tyrande's faith in the Elune remained unchanged.
Once this sole reliance is lost, the leader of the Night Elves will no longer be legitimate.
It's hard to persuade a person, but it's almost impossible to persuade someone who's pretending to be stupid.
Malfurion gazed at the sky and murmured, "No matter how you look at it, the Druid Legion must change. I'm already considering the path of the Flame Druids."
Tyrande sneered, "What, Master wants to learn from his disciple? Don't forget, the Druid's Path originates from the Elune."
Malfurion was conflicted and torn.
They both admired the power of the Flame Druids and feared offending Elune, who might take back all the Druids ' power.
An untimely voice rang out:
"Only the power that you hold in your own hands is real; power that relies on the gifts of others can be lost at any time."
Malfurion and Tyrande turned around hastily, only to find that strangers had infiltrated the heavily guarded Temple of the Moon.
A Draenei stood behind them, smiling as he watched the couple.
"It's you, Amado the Draenei, oh no, my dear brother, Illidan Stormrage."
Malfurion's voice was filled with resentment; Illidan's power was becoming increasingly unfathomable, deeply provoking him.
Tyrande, standing nearby, was extremely vigilant, secretly reaching for Tear of Elune in her bosom.
Illidan smiled slightly, "Ten thousand years have passed. I think you've long since realized that I am not your brother. And you, Tyrande, my so-called love for you is nothing but a lie to deceive the world. I will not like you, and the real Illidan despises you."
"You!" Tyrande was furious.
Illidan, now in his Night Elf form, sat firmly in place and said in a deep voice:
"The Night Elves are in for a calamity."