Velen, Anachronos, Thrall, and Rend rode Gryphons towards Lordaeron.
Along the way, we saw vast stretches of desolate land, and people fleeing with their families.
Occasionally, one could see the Order of the Silver Hand driving away civilians like livestock, forbidding them from escaping.
Anachronos couldn't help but lament, "King Terenas is incompetent, causing the people of Lordaeron to suffer. Such misery will continue for many more years to come."
Velen smiled faintly and said, "This is all the people's own doing. Just like the Draenei, they trusted me and deserve to wander the stars."
Rend said fiercely, "This land, and even this planet, will belong to the Orcs sooner or later. We Orcs are the bravest."
Anachronos glanced at him, then pointed to Thrall at the end:
When Thrall cruelly oppressed the Orcs, which Orcs dared to resist? Weren't they all as meek as pigs, at the mercy of others?
Rend retorted, "How can that be the same? We Orcs are famous for our bravery in battle."
Anachronos scoffed, "It's easier to be killed on the Battlefield than to die fighting Thrall; the latter is true courage."
Velen didn't want to argue about it and changed the subject:
"King Terenas may be old and senile, but he is extremely arrogant, and it won't be easy to meet him."
Anachronos calmly replied, "It's alright, we can just find someone to introduce us."
"Who?"
"Lightbringer, the Uther."
The four men, dressed as merchants and claiming to be from Kingdom of Stormwind, bribed Uther's men with a large sum of gold coins.
They sent Uther a generous gift, finally giving him a chance to meet him.
At a luxurious manor near Brill, the four waited for most of the day before Uther arrived, still wearing his pajamas and smelling of perfume, yawning.
"I'm very busy. Azeroth awaits my salvation. I just defeated the Void Lords, and Sargeras is attacking again. You have five minutes."
Anachronos hastily presented a generous gift: an ancient, golden mask.
The grinning golden mask is an ancient artifact passed down for thousands of years, a relic of an ancient Troll Empire.
Upon seeing the mask, Uther stopped yawning, his eyes brightening as he carefully examined the patterns on it.
"Good, good, good!"
Uther shook his head and said:
"Look at these patterns, they're very similar to the style of the Night Elves. If I'm not mistaken, these should be relics of the ancient Dark Trolls. The Night Elves deny that they originated from the Dark Trolls, claiming that they were created by the Elune herself. The relics of the Dark Trolls have all been destroyed, and very few remain, each one priceless."
Anachronos chuckled, "Lord Uther has an excellent eye. This is a mask worn by a Dark Trolls chieftain. If we trace its origins, it could very well be Tyrande's ancestor."
Uther laughed heartily, "A relic of Tyrande's ancestors, this is truly a fine item. Whatever your requests, please feel free to speak."
Anachronos bowed deeply. "We wish to see King Terenas, and hope that Lord Uther will introduce us."
Uther deliberately feigned reluctance, stroking his beard as he said:
"I think you all know that King Terenas's greatness is unparalleled. Even the destruction of the Titans of the Black Empire cannot match one ten-thousandth of King Terenas's achievements. King Majesty works over 100,000 hours a day for the sake of Azeroth and simply cannot find the time to rest."
Thrall couldn't help but ask, "There are only twenty-four hours in a day, how can you possibly work 100,000 hours?"
Uther glared and questioned:
"Does Your Excellency not know about the Bronze Dragonflight? King Terenas has far too many matters to attend to and needs to rely on the power of the Bronze Dragonflight to prolong the time."
Anachronos, being so experienced, saw through Uther's prevarication at a glance and said sincerely:
"A generous reward will be given for any opportunity to meet King Terenas."
A fleeting look of greed crossed Uther's face. He removed his golden mask, pondered for a moment, and said:
"You've gone to great lengths, Your Excellency. It's not difficult to see King Terenas. King Majesty's request is very simple: sincerity."
"How can I show my sincerity?" Anachronos asked curiously.
Uther smiled faintly, "Back in the day, there was a poor widow in Lordaeron who only had two copper coins left. She gave them to him and was summoned by King Terenas."
Anachronos understood immediately and laughed, "So sincerity means offering up your entire fortune? Too bad, my wealth is too much for Lordaeron to contain."
Uther was taken aback, then laughed heartily, "Lordaeron is a vast land, capable of holding countless riches. What, are you perhaps richer than the entire Kingdom of Stormwind?"
Anachronos laughed, "The entire Kingdom of Stormwind is but a drop in the ocean compared to my wealth, Uther. You are too greedy. Look at this!"
A letter was handed to Uther, and his expression changed drastically after Uther opened it.
Uther the Lightbringer appears to be upright and honorable, but he has secretly committed countless despicable acts.
The letter listed several major events that would pose a great threat to Lordaeron, and if King Terenas were to learn of them, he would surely tear him to pieces.
Anachronos, a son of Nozdormu, through the power of time, holds the secrets of almost all the great men.
Uther unleashed Flames from his hands, burning the letter to ashes.
"You want to threaten me? Too bad you've come to the wrong place. This is my territory, my manor. Guards!"
A group of Paladins clad in magnificent armor appeared at the door. Uther pointed at the four of them:
"These four are Demons sent by the Burning Legion, plotting to destroy Azeroth. Kill them all immediately."
The Prophet Velen stood up and proclaimed:
"Holy Light is forbidden here."
As soon as he finished speaking, Uther felt the Holy Light within him vanish, and a sudden heaviness washed over him. His legs could no longer support his weight, and he collapsed to the ground.
Looking at the Paladins at the entrance, they were all lying on the ground, crushed by their own armor.
The Holy Light granted Paladins immense power, enabling them to wear heavy armor and move with the agility of ordinary people.
But once the Holy Light is lost, the muscles that were originally blessed by the Holy Light collapse, making it difficult to even support the body.
However, that's not the worst part.
When the Holy Light was gone, Uther saw countless Restless Souls surrounding him, tearing at his flesh.
"Give me back my life, Uther!"
"Uther, you fed us to the Orcs, I will tear you to pieces."
"Your soul will never find peace, Uther."
Uther covered his face, screaming in agony, blood and tears streaming from his eyes.
Anachronos approached Uther and punched him hard in the face.
"Uther, didn't you say you just defeated the Void Lords and were about to face Sargeras? How come you're so weak?"
Uther grabbed Anachronos's legs and pleaded loudly, "I was wrong, please let me go, I'll do anything you ask."
Anachronos grabbed Uther by the hair and slammed his face hard against the floor, blood flowing freely.
"Don't try to fool me. I know everything. Void Lords Sargeras, those two noblewomen of Lordaeron, renowned for their beauty and allure—the nicknames you gave them. Too bad you're too incompetent; it was you who was defeated, not them."