"I'm innocent! I have nothing to do with this, I swear!" Christina said innocently.
Haramad scoffed, "Injustice? Yes, I know you're not that stupid, but the interstellar world doesn't care about that. Do you know how many eyes are watching us, coveting this piece of fat meat, Azeroth?"
Christina, filled with anxiety, pleaded, "Your Highness, what should I do?"
Haramad sighed:
"Christina, my confidante, has always done the dirtiest work for me, but there's nothing I can do about this. Get away from Azeroth, as far away as you can."
Christina asked reluctantly, "But what about the Kobold trade? Your Highness, you know this is a rare opportunity."
"At a time like this, you're still thinking about the Kobolds!" Haramad roared angrily. "You'd better think about how to save your own life."
Christina's body flickered incessantly; her spirit form was unstable. After a long while, she finally spoke:
"Your Highness, thank you for the reminder. I'll leave immediately."
After Haramad left, Christina sulked silently, still unable to accept it.
"I merely traded a bunch of lowly, filthy Kobolds, and the schemers of Azeroth treat me like this, yet I'm blamed for being ruthless? Humph, scheming, I can scheme too."
Christina summoned the Consortium's representative in Azeroth, who was also her confidant—a plump, round Goblin.
Mogul Razdunk, one of the five Goblin Trade Princes, and the leader of Venture Company.
It was thanks to Christina that Mogul Razdunk was able to kill the former leader and inherit this prestigious position.
Of course, a cunning Goblin would never put all his eggs in one basket.
Mogul Razdunk has connections with multiple factions, and Christina is just one of his clients.
Mogul Razdunk took off his hat, revealing a sincere smile on his chubby face:
This is Mogul's signature smile; many people have been deceived by it and lost everything.
"My esteemed master, how may I help you?"
Christina took out a small bottle and carefully handed it over.
Mogul Razdunk carefully examined the purple liquid in the bottle and asked in confusion:
"My all-knowing master, may I ask what this is?"
"This is Undead Plague from an advanced civilization."
Mogul Razdunk was startled and instinctively wanted to throw it away, but reason stopped him, and he asked tremblingly:
"Is this Plague that could destroy Azeroth?"
Christina chuckled. "Don't be nervous. Plague capable of destroying Azeroth does exist, but I can't afford it. This is just Plague that makes people stronger."
"Strong?" Mogul Razdunk, who was obese and powerless at the crucial moment, showed great interest.
Christina saw through his greed and coldly explained:
"Once you become Undead, you lose the ability to reproduce; this is the law of balance in the universe."
Mogul then composed himself and asked humbly, "Master, may I ask how to use the Plague?"
Christina calmly instructed, "I need a strong race so that I can take advantage of my strength after becoming Undead. Which race do you think would be better?"
Mogul understood; this was Plague targeting the Kobolds, Kobold were naturally weak and had an instinctive fear of taller races.
"Azeroth has many tall races, such as Magnataur and Sea Giants, but unfortunately, they don't reproduce very well. If reproduction is a factor, the Tauren are the best choice."
Christina nodded:
"That's right, I also have high hopes for the Tauren. I'm going on vacation for a while. You go to the Tauren Horde and spread the Plague, using some tricks. I don't need to teach you, right?"
Mogul bowed deeply. "It is my honor, Master."
Thunder Bluff.
Tauren Chieftain Rom the Wildtotem looked at the grass on the plate and couldn't help but sigh.
After Mulgore was corroded and covered by the ground, the once vast grasslands became desolate, and the breeding grounds of the Lightforging Tauren were completely destroyed.
Today, Thunder Bluff is the only remaining pristine place in Mulgore.
The Tauren from Mulgore have gathered at Thunder Bluff, crowding the streets and alleys.
While most Lightforging Tauren rely on the power of the Holy Light and do not need to eat, some native Tauren inevitably suffer from hunger.
What Rom found even more unacceptable was that as the corruption spread across the ground, the Holy Light energy became increasingly scarce, and the Lightforging Tauren gradually weakened.
"Are the Tauren of Mulgore going to go extinct?"
Rom felt incredibly heartbroken; ever since the Tauren joined the Horde, he hadn't had a single good day.
Suddenly, a commotion arose among the Tauren outside the door, Rom hurriedly went out to investigate.
A Hippogryph slowly descended, but because the road was crowded with Tauren, Hippogryph could only land on the top of the tent.
A Night Elf woman leaped off the back of Hippogryph, cautiously keeping her distance from the Tauren.
Rom was secretly surprised. Ever since Mulgore was ravaged by the Plague and the flight paths were closed, no one was willing to approach this dangerous land.
The Night Elf woman called out loudly, "Are you perhaps Rom the Wildtotem, the Warchief of Thunder Bluff?"
Rom the Wildtotem nodded. "It's me. May I ask which Night Elf you are?"
The Night Elf woman proclaimed in a clear voice:
"On behalf of Malfurion and Tyrande, the Night Elf race and the Mulgore Tauren have always been on friendly terms, but the establishment of the Horde has caused them to drift apart. Now that Thunder Bluff is in trouble and the Horde is ignoring you, the Night Elf race sincerely invite the Tauren to join the Alliance. We will carve out a portion of land in Mount Hyjal for your survival."
Rom the Wildtotem's lips curled slightly. "Thank you for the Night Elves ' generosity, but you've forgotten that we Tauren have dignity."
"Tauren have dignity too?" the Night Elf woman retorted.
Rom the Wildtotem declared passionately, "The Tauren are protected by Earth Mother, Horde incredibly kind to us. Without the Horde, the Tauren would have been wiped out long ago."
The Night Elf woman asked in confusion, "But the Orcs treat you as food."
"We are more than willing to become food for the Orcs; it is the dignity of the Tauren. We ask the Night Elf race to respect our choice." Rom the Wildtotem wore a righteous and awe-inspiring expression.
"Someone actually wants to be food?" The Night Elf woman couldn't understand and rode away on her Hippogryph.
The Tauren below were buzzing with discussion.
"But I don't want to be Orcs food," a young Tauren muttered to himself.
The elder Tauren quickly covered his mouth. "Don't speak! The will of the Warchief is the will of all Tauren."
"How are we supposed to survive if we reject the Night Elves?" the starving Tauren sighed.
Rom the Wildtotem stood high above, his sharp gaze sweeping across Thunder Bluff:
"Have you forgotten the Horde's kindness? The Tauren have survived to this day because we are useful. The Orcs like to eat us. The Tauren should know how to be grateful, otherwise, what's the difference between you and the Gnolls?"
No one dared to oppose the Warchief; Warchief words were the truth, beyond question.
The Tauren silently lowered his head, continuing to endure his hunger.
The Rom Wildtotem has its own calculations.
As the chieftain of the Tauren, he had already planned his escape route.
Even if all the Tauren in Thunder Bluff starved to death, they would still be safe and sound, and live a luxurious life for the rest of their lives.
However, if Rom Wildtotem betrays the Horde and joins the Alliance, his life will be in danger.