A Conversation Between Holy Light and Death

Blackmoore looked confused.

The pressure of nurturing a great leader, a Savior, is immense, and guidance is urgently needed.

Velen was secretly surprised, not expecting things to develop to this point, and had no choice but to answer:

"All leaders need to experience hardships and setbacks to develop a resilient character. You need to let him go through trials, and of course, first you need to find him a nanny."

"I'll find a wet nurse." Blackmoore still didn't understand. "What kind of ordeal should I give him?"

With things having come to this, Velen could only continue, "You must give him a name, Thrall, which means slave in Orcish."

"That won't do, he'll hate me," Blackmoore muttered.

"When he becomes the leader, he will understand your good intentions and will be grateful to you. You must believe in the virtues of the Orcs." Velen told the lie with a sincere expression.

Tamis advised in a low voice, "My lord, Orcs are not to be trusted. Be careful not to raise an ungrateful wolf cub."

Blackmoore thought for a moment, then said uncertainly, "The debt of gratitude for raising someone is greater than everything else, I don't think so."

Velen pointed to the sky and said, "I swear by the Holy Light, Thrall will be absolutely grateful when he grows up; otherwise, what difference is there between him and an animal?"

Blackmoore scratched his head, looking unsure. "No, you need to teach me more. I'm not confident at all."

Velen gritted his teeth and continued, "A leader must have great strength. You must do your best to train him, cultivate him, and put him into actual combat."

"How can we achieve this in real combat?" In this peaceful era, Blackmoore couldn't think of a way.

"Make him a gladiator, a tool to make money for you. Don't show him any tenderness; only in this way can you cultivate a heart as tough as steel."

"Let me think about it carefully!"

Blackmoore handed the baby Thrall to Tamis, paced back and forth, and suddenly said:

"Compared to individual ability, strategy is also indispensable."

Velen nodded. "Yes, you also need to hire a teacher to teach him how to command an army, how to deploy troops, and so on. You must be careful not to show any tenderness, otherwise it will affect the heart of a king. You must find a reason for yourself, such as using Thrall to unify the Orcs and conquer Azeroth."

Blackmoore smiled wryly, "Tenderness is the cheapest investment. If I really wanted to use Thrall to conquer the world, I would definitely bind him with emotions."

Velen looked completely honest. "You also need to take away his most precious possession, so he can understand the pain of loss."

Tamis sensed something was wrong and exclaimed:

"My lord, this is absolutely unacceptable! You've raised him to be so strong, and now you're treating him like this, provoking him? Aren't you just creating a mortal enemy for yourself?"

Blackmoore thought carefully and said tactfully, "Denathrius Fashu, I feel that the Savior needs some pleasant memories and shouldn't be treated so cruelly."

Velen shook his head repeatedly. "Absolutely not! If you show any tenderness, all your efforts will be wasted."

"This," Blackmoore said, scratching his head, and then summarized:

"So my goal is to train him into a qualified leader, a powerful gladiator, but also to treat him cruelly, take away his most important thing, and make him ungrateful. I'm just a fool, what am I after?"

Seeing Blackmoore hesitate, Velen said resolutely, "It's all for the sake of saving Azeroth."

Blackmoore's eyes widened slightly; he was already wavering.

Not far away, Robbie and Kel'Thuzad secretly watched the farce unfold.

"That damned Velen, he schemed to drag Blackmoore into the Great Sea Maelstrom. Watch my performance."

With a flash of purple light, Kel'Thuzad used Arcane Magic to transform into a Woodcutter.

From deep within the dense forest came a clear, resonant chant:

"A wise man dwells in the mountains, his whereabouts unknown amidst the deep clouds; a wicked man spouts wild words, watch my wood-chopping axe."

Who is it?

Velen was furious, and a golden spear of Holy Light flew straight towards him.

The Woodcutter smiled faintly, raised his tattered sleeve, and effortlessly blocked the Holy Light spear.

The Holy Light Spear sank without a trace, Velen narrowed his eyes, knowing he had encountered a formidable opponent.

Upon seeing this, Blackmoore knew that this "Woodcutter" was a master. He noticed that although the man's clothes were worn, they were spotless, and there wasn't a speck of dust on the soles of his shoes.

"May I ask who you are?" Blackmoore asked hastily.

Kel'Thuzad looked at Velen: "I was just Woodcutter in these mountains. I heard someone was deceiving the lord, and I felt indignant, so I came out to offer some guidance."

Velen flicked his sleeve. "Hmph, everything I've done is for Azeroth!"

Kel'Thuzad stepped forward and asked, "I have a question for you. According to the prophecy of the Holy Light, will Thrall kill Lord Thrall when Thrall grows up?"

"Of course not, Orcs are so kind and benevolent," Velen said confidently.

Kel'Thuzad's face was ashen. "Do you dare swear on your son's life?"

Velen remained silent, his gaze drifting elsewhere.

His son is the softest spot in his heart. Although Velen makes solemn oaths as casually as drinking water, he would never joke about his son.

Blackmoore's body stiffened as he looked at the baby in the old servant's arms:

"So he'll kill me?"

Kel'Thuzad sighed, "Not only will he kill you, but the Kingdom of Lordaeron, Silvermoon City, Dalaran be destroyed because of him."

"My God, what have I done? He's not Savior, I've raised the Destroyer." Blackmoore felt a sense of dread.

The old servant Tamis glared at Velen and whispered to Blackmoore:

"My lord, this man appears virtuous, but he's actually full of evil intentions. Don't trust him. Just follow my method and train him to be a Bards."

Velen dropped the pretense and gave a wicked smile:

"Do you think you can escape death like this? Thrall was born to be the leader of the Orcs, yet you raised him to be a Bards. Once he becomes the leader, when he recalls the wasted years of his childhood, do you think he will let you off the hook? You are a sinner of Azeroth, condemned by thousands and cursed by all."

Blackmoore, at his wit's end, slapped his forehead and said:

"If I raise him to be a leader, I'll die; if I raise him to be Bards, I'll die too. Fine, I'll send him to Internment Camp and let the Orcs raise him. Is that alright?"

Velen laughed heartily, "Blackmoore, when he walks out of the Internment Camp, the first person he'll kill is you. Give up the struggle, this is your Destiny. Your only purpose is to be Thrall's stepping stone. You train him to be a qualified leader, and then he'll have ample reason to kill you, and you'll be despised by the world. How can a qualified leader not be insidious and ruthless?"

"No, there must be another way." Blackmoore paced anxiously.

Kel'Thuzad shook his head:

"I'm sorry, there's no other way. Thrall is destined to become the leader of the Orcs. If you treat him well, he'll use the excuse of spoiling you to kill you. If you treat him cruelly, he'll use the excuse of cruelty to kill you. No matter how you treat him, he'll find a good reason to kill you, and you'll be despised by the world."

Blackmoore's eyes lit up. "I see, that explains it! The key lies in this baby."

Having said that, Blackmoore took the baby Thrall from the old servant and threw him violently to the ground.

The world fell Anjing.