Naruk Xil continued to radiate light, but strangely, the black feathers clung to it like a persistent leech, impossible to break free from.
The four chains gradually tightened, pulling Naruk Xil little by little towards the ground.
"This is not pure Shadowlands power, you are just a bunch of plagiarists! Who is it? Step forward!" Naruk Xil roared in terror.
Another cloud of black mist appeared, with figures looming within, and a deep voice emanating from it:
"You are powerful; the power of the Shadowlands cannot confine you. I merely made a slight improvement. Give up the struggle, Naaru. Your efforts are futile. You should not have abandoned the protection of the Holy Light and descended upon Azeroth alone."
The figure's voice seemed to carry a kind of magic; Naruk Xil's light became unstable and gradually lost its power.
A massive Portal appeared from the black mist, and four black chains pulled Naruk Xil slowly toward the Portal.
As they approached the Portal, Naruk Xil suddenly regained consciousness and shouted:
"Shattrath City, find Naru A'dal, hurry, save me!"
Naruk Xil disappeared into the Portal, followed by a humanoid figure clad in armor with black feathers on its back.
Everything returned to normal. Rend Blackhand was dumbfounded; he had almost become the Horde's Warchief.
Rend's eyes darted around, and he spoke first, "Naruk Xil has disappeared. In the name of the Horde 'Warchief..."
"Watch your words, Rend Blackhand," Durotan reprimanded in an elder's tone. "You are not yet the Warchief of the Horde."
"But you all support me becoming the Warchief," Rend Blackhand argued.
Mar'gok retorted, "The Blackrock Clan values tradition above all else. The position of Warchief must be decided by vote to have legal validity. The vote hasn't started yet, so you are not the legal Warchief."
Rend was so angry he almost fainted, making a final struggle:
"Rom, what's your opinion?"
Without Naruk Xil's support, Orgrimmar was vulnerable, and Rom changed his mind:
"Voting is a necessary process, Rend Blackhand. Without voting, you are not the Warchief."
Who was it that just said voting was just a formality? Rend slumped into his chair, filled with regret.
Taran Zhu laughed heartily and said:
"Gentlemen, since there is no universally accepted candidate for the position of Warchief, I feel there is no need to continue this gathering."
As soon as he finished speaking, Taran Zhu's figure disappeared. This was the combination of the Monk's Spirit-Body Duality, mirror image and movement technique.
Mar'gok stood up. "Indeed, there are still many things waiting for me to handle in Gadgetzan. Farewell."
Durotan glanced at Rend Blackhand: "If the Naaru hadn't interfered, we would already have Warchief. Kobold Warchief is better than nothing, right?"
Having said that, Durotan turned and left.
The gathering of the five Mogul ended on a sour note.
Robbie stood up and said to Kel'Thuzad, "The ones who kidnapped Naruk Xil are our allies; they need support. Let's make preparations first."
"What, allies?" Kel'Thuzad asked, bewildered. "Where are you headed?"
Robbie said seriously:
"The Timeways."
Rend returned to Orgrimmar empty-handed and dejected.
With Naruk Xil missing, can the Army of the Light continue to supply Lightforging Orcs?
Rend had absolutely no confidence.
Fortunately, Naruk Xil left a clue: go to Shattrath City to find A'dal.
Disregarding the safety of Orgrimmar, Rend took a few trusted followers and hurriedly headed to Shattrath City in Outland.
In Shattrath City, the sky remained as dark as ever.
Velen strolled aimlessly down the street.
Oshu'gun, Velen was rescued by a mysterious figure, and when he opened his eyes, he was already in Shattrath City.
Velen decided to stay, having already had enough of his house arrest at the Temple of the White Tiger.
As luck would have it, a group of Orcs were hurrying along when the Orcs in front bumped into Velen.
Just as the Orcs was about to lose his temper, Velen immediately put on a pleading expression.
After years of wandering, Velen learned a valuable lesson: if a problem can be solved with an apology, never resort to fists or magic.
The Orcs, catching sight of Velen's imposing figure, instinctively took a step back and exclaimed in surprise:
"Are you the Prophet Velen?"
Velen carefully examined the Orcs before him and recognized him; this was the latest celebrity in Azeroth, whose photos were frequently published in the newspapers.
It was Rend Blackhand.
The news of Ratchet had already spread far and wide; the Goblins were practically shouting in the ears of everyone in Azeroth: the Naaru have been kidnapped.
Velen stroked his beard with a smile and said loudly:
"Not all wanderers are lost, Rend Blackhand. I've been waiting for you."
"You knew I would come to Shattrath?" Rend Blackhand asked in surprise.
Rend had heard that Velen was a Prophet with the ability to foresee the future.
Velen feigned mystery. "Not only did I know you were coming, I also knew when you would arrive. Look, here you are."
Rend was somewhat convinced and exclaimed, "The Prophet is truly a divine being!"
Velen made up his mind that Anachronos, Durotan, and the others would not let him go, and if he could establish a relationship with Rend Blackhand, he should be able to get protection.
"Rend," Velen said gravely, "You've come to Shattrath City seeking A'dal's help?"
Rend nodded and sighed:
"Naruk Xil has unfortunately been kidnapped. The Army of the Light will not stand idly by. Velen, you have a close relationship with the Army of the Light, why not make an introduction? You will be richly rewarded."
Velen took a deep breath. "I have received enlightenment from the Holy Light. Naruk Xil is safe for now. There's no rush. Why don't you come to my place for a while? I will pray to the Holy Light for a prophecy, and then I will take you to see A'dal."
Rend believed it to some extent, especially since he had no way of getting an audience with A'dal; a powerful Naaru was not someone one could meet casually.
With Velen's help, things would certainly be much easier.
Rend arrived at Velen's residence with his trusted men.
Shattrath City, the largest city in Outland, is protected by A'dal, so its safety is at least guaranteed. Land prices are extremely high, and every inch of land is worth its weight in gold.
Unexpectedly, Velen had a luxurious mansion within the city.
Rend had secretly inquired about land prices in Shattrath City, which left him speechless and daring not to harbor any greed.
Upon seeing the vastness and extravagance of Velen's residence, Rend immediately looked at Velen with newfound respect.
The Arakkoa maidservant served fragrant tea and snacks. Velen exchanged a few pleasantries with Rend, then said with a serious expression:
"Rend, you are my benefactor. With you here, how much more accurate will my prophecy be? Please wait a moment, I will go to the quiet room to pray and ask for the guidance of the Holy Light."
Velen entered the quiet room, sat cross-legged, and placed his hands on his knees.
Having not received any enlightenment from the Holy Light for several days, Velen had lost hope.
A qualified Prophet must first learn to fabricate stories.
While praying absentmindedly, Velen pondered how to deceive Rend.
Suddenly, the chaotic scene disappeared, and a clear human figure appeared.
It was an Orcs, his back to Velen, holding a warhammer, standing on a road bathed in light.
Such clear omens are rare in past visions.
Velen stood beside the Orcs, carefully examining the strange road.
The road flowed with seven-colored light, seemingly endless, with no pedestrians in sight, and countless forks leading into the depths of the mist.
Velen stroked his chin, having guessed what was going on.
This is the Timeways in Azeroth.
The Orcs slowly turned around, revealing a familiar face.
Thrall.