A Kobold has taken the position of Warchief of the Horde.
The five Mogul remained silent, and considering the alchemical toxins within their bodies, they all simultaneously revealed obsequious smiles.
Mar'gok, realizing the terrifying nature of the toxins within his body—which even Highmaul's technology couldn't neutralize—preemptively offered his conciliatory words:
"If it were anyone else, I would absolutely refuse to submit and would rather die fighting. Only you are the Warchief in my heart."
Rend Blackhand bowed and scraped, saying, "Back then, you conquered Orgrimmar without lifting a finger. I knew you were the only choice for Warchief. What are Chen Stormstout and Eitrigg? Just two pieces of trash."
Durotan retorted, "The position of Warchief Horde be held only by the virtuous. In all of Azeroth, who can compare to the Holy Light Great Emperor in terms of character?"
Taran Zhu followed up, saying, "Among us Pandaren, there's an old saying: 'He who wins the hearts of the people will become the Warchief.' Your appointment as Warchief is the will of the people and the will of the people."
Rom was the slowest to react; after racking his brains for a long time, he finally managed to squeeze out a sentence:
"This is the will of Earth Mother."
Several Goblin servants from Ratchet entered the meeting room and rearranged the tables and chairs.
Seeing Osaid sitting in the main seat, looking every bit the leader, a Goblin servant couldn't help but mutter:
"Kobold Warchief, this is a moral decay! Is Azeroth truly doomed?"
The Goblins around him all changed their expressions, but Osaid was not annoyed and asked with a smile:
"If I become Warchief and bring a better life to the people of Kalimdor, will you support me?"
This Goblin was a hothead, and stubbornly said:
"How can that be the same? No matter how well the common people live, the kobold chieftain is still no good."
Osaid asked curiously, "If Orcs were to become the Warchief, you'd rather live a life of hardship, wouldn't you?"
"Certainly!"
The Goblin asked matter-of-factly, "I'd rather the Goblins of Ratchet be wiped out, I'd rather Azeroth be destroyed, than trust Orcs as Warchief."
The other Goblin replied:
"Warchief, he's just a fool, don't bother with him."
Another Goblin scolded, "If you want to die, don't drag us down with you. Get as far away as you can."
Osaid lowered his head and thought for a moment, "I don't need the Goblins of Ratchet. As long as you're willing to die, I'll relinquish my position Warchief."
"You keep your word?" the Goblin stepped forward and asked.
Osaid drew a dagger and threw it in front of the Goblin:
"Everyone here can testify; it's your turn, warrior."
The Goblin picked up the dagger, sweat pouring down his forehead, his green cheeks turning red.
After a long while, she shakily threw away the dagger and screamed as she fled.
Bang!
The Kobold exploded and died, his entrails spilling onto the ground, leaving the other Goblins terrified.
Everyone looked at Osaid, Osaid remained calm and muttered to himself:
"What was bound to happen will happen eventually, but I didn't expect it to happen so soon. Azeroth really did have it all planned out."
Golden light descended from the sky, illuminating Ratchet with a rich Holy Light.
Across two streets, Kel'Thuzad frowned slightly. "It's the Naaru. The Army of the Light is directly interfering in Horde position of Warchief of the Horde."
Robbie had anticipated this, and sighed softly:
"The Army of the Light, relying on its alignment with Justice, has become increasingly unscrupulous in its actions. The Burning Legion, on the other hand, had to be more discreet and mindful of its reputation, avoiding open confrontation. But the Army of the Light will immediately strike if anything slightly displeases them."
Accompanied by a pleasant melody, Naruk Xil descended from the sky.
"By the will of the Holy Light, the Horde needs a Warchief, but certainly not Kobold."
Holy Light condensed into golden ropes, wrapping around Osaid.
Osaid was prepared; with a nimble movement, he transformed into four Osaid, who fled in four different directions.
"You dare to use such petty tricks in front of me."
Osaid's light flashed suddenly, bursting forth with blinding brilliance. Those present were suddenly surrounded by light and could see nothing at all.
Osaid's three clones evaporated, leaving only his true form, which greatly alarmed him.
The ropes of Holy Light followed closely, binding Osaid tightly.
Not far away, Robbie tapped his finger, and Osaid's figure turned into a wisp of smoke and suddenly disappeared.
"Strangeness!"
Naruk Xil was slightly taken aback.
At this moment, everyone's vision returned, and they realized that Osaid was missing. Naturally, they assumed that he had been captured by Naruk Xil.
Naruk Xil shot out five golden beams of light, illuminating the five Mogul, and a melodious voice rang out:
"The farce is over. There's no need to worry. I've removed the toxins from your bodies and destroyed the bombs beneath Ratchet. Rend Blackhand, you're the one I trust most. You will preside over the Warchief election. The Army of the Light always upholds the will of the people and will elect Warchief beloved by the people, for the sake of Azeroth."
Rend Blackhand was overjoyed; the outcome was already clear: with Naruk Xil's support, he was destined to become the Warchief.
The other four exchanged glances. With Naruk Xil descending to support Rend Blackhand, who would dare disobey?
Seeing this, Rom rallied and arrogantly declared, "I support Rend Blackhand. What are your opinions?"
Taran Zhu said slowly, "I have no objection."
Mar'gok and Durotan remained silent, while Rend Blackhand deliberately made excuses, grinning from ear to ear:
"Gentlemen, I am new here, and the position of Warchief should be decided by your opinions. I suggest we hold a vote."
Mar'gok and Durotan exchanged a glance; with the Naaru's support, opposition was futile.
Durotan coughed. "Rend Blackhand, I've watched you grow up. No need for a vote, you're the Warchief."
Mar'gok, also against his will, said:
"Back in Highmaul, I heard that Rend, the second son of Blackhand Destroyer, was Naaru among men, of immeasurable nobility. Your position as Warchief is destined for you."
Rend Blackhand's appointment as Warchief seems to be a done deal.
Unfortunately, Rend was too arrogant and put on airs, saying:
"The Blackrock Clan places great emphasis on tradition; the position of Warchief must be decided by vote to have legal validity."
Rom advised, "The vote is just a formality. Everyone here supports you, why bother?"
Naruk Xil also advised, "It's the will of the people; you shouldn't refuse."
Rend persisted, "Please Ratchet, provide the voting tools."
The Warchief's ceremony could not be taken lightly, Goblins hurriedly went down to prepare.
After a long while, two Goblins carried an exquisite ballot box into the venue.
Suddenly, deep voices came from all directions:
"Look what I've found! A lone Naaru. Perfect, I'll capture it and make it the city's energy core."
Four plumes of black mist rose from the roof of the inn, from which four tall human figures emerged.
The humanoid figure, clad in thick armor and with a pair of jet-black wings on its back, held a bow and arrow, aiming at Naruk Xil in the air.
Whoosh!
Four arrows flew towards Naruk Xil, both ruthless and accurate.
Naruk Xil didn't take it seriously; ordinary arrows couldn't hurt him. With a flash of golden light, the arrow shaft burned to ashes, and the arrowhead vaporized.
A strange thing happened: the four arrows transformed into black feathers and pierced deeply into Naruk Xil's body.
A crisp cracking sound rang out from Naruk Xil's Naaru body.
At the same time, long black chains extended from the feathers, the other end of which was nailed to the ground, and the four chains firmly bound Naruk Xil.
"This is the power of the Shadowlands, impossible."
Naruk Xil's melodious voice became hoarse.