The Holy Light Codex described how, long ago, the high elves and dwarves discovered the Holy Light and became its followers. At the same time, however, they discovered that the Holy Light was unlike earth, fire, water, or wind, and unlike Arcane and shadow as well. It was an extremely stable energy that was very difficult to use.
In Azeroth, beings born with an aptitude for the Holy Light were exceedingly rare, numbering only one five-hundredth as many as mages. As a result, research into the Holy Light progressed exceptionally slowly. A handful of pioneers tirelessly pursued its secrets, only to fail again and again. They were called ascetics.
Then the Naaru, who understood the Holy Light, came to Azeroth. Beings could communicate with the Naaru through simple prayers and try to obtain the Holy Light's power. But to keep its secrets to themselves, the Naaru rejected ascetics. No being with an aptitude for the Holy Light could receive a Naaru's blessing.
The so-called "listening to the voice and teachings of the Holy Light" actually meant listening to the teachings of the Naaru. The standards Paladins set for themselves—humility, honor, sacrifice, valor, Mercy, honesty, spirituality, and justice—also matched the Naaru's requirements for a being's character.
Yet there was more than one Naaru in the void. They differed vastly in temperament, each with its own priorities and preferences. Some were righteous and bestowed the Holy Light's power only upon good beings. Some treated everyone alike, ignoring good and evil; some were extreme in temperament and revered evil; and others were morons and idiots.
Tirion Fordring was the best example. A Naaru sent down its power and saved him, frightening away the Orc Eitrigg, who was pulling down his pants and preparing to do something uncivilized.
Tirion Fordring mistakenly took Eitrigg for his savior. The Naaru thought Tirion Fordring's intelligence needed improvement and so gave up on him, and he lost the Holy Light's favor.
Later, on the execution grounds of Stratholme, the Holy Light enveloped Tirion Fordring once again. It was not that the Holy Light had changed its mind, but that another Naaru had accepted him. To serve this Naaru of peculiar temperament, Tirion Fordring had no choice but to live on the flesh of white maggots from the Plaguelands all day long.
The Naaru were beacons in the void, refracting the Holy Light onto their followers. However, there was no such thing as a free lunch. Something given demanded something in return.
The Naaru did not bestow their gifts for nothing. Power easily obtained always came at a price. In the name of strengthening Paladins' faith, the Naaru would occasionally send down so-called "trials." These trials often involved taking away a being's most sincere, most cherished, and most precious heartfelt affection.
Mograine and his son turning against each other, and Tirion Fordring losing his beloved son to tragedy—these were all prices paid for serving the Naaru.
The Holy Light is everywhere. Please believe in yourself. The Holy Light has nothing to do with faith.
The Holy Light will not abandon any being, but the Naaru will. The Holy Light does not demand repayment, but the Naaru do...
As expected of Arthas, the Lich King. His description of the Holy Light was downright heretical.
Robbie couldn't help grumbling inwardly. Only someone like me, from another world, could look at this through a scientific worldview and remain half-convinced. The old Robbie Capor would have dismissed it as heresy and wicked nonsense, and cast it aside like trash.
Without evidence, Robbie would not believe what the Holy Light Codex said. Whether it concerned faith in the Holy Light or ascetics, Robbie, a defiler, urgently needed power to protect himself right now.
Following the book's instructions, Robbie tried to empty his mind, return to tranquility, and enter a meditative state of oneness with heaven and earth. He recited the incantation softly, trying to communicate with the Naaru in the void.
After being transformed by the mysterious liquid, Robbie's spiritual power was extraordinarily vast. He successfully entered the meditative state on his first attempt. Deep in meditation, Robbie entered a wondrous state, sensing heaven and earth in their primordial vastness, the universe and all its mysteries, in ways beyond words.
Suddenly, a mysterious luminous being spoke in a voice full of disgust:
"Filthy soul from a strange world, twisted bloodline tainted by corruption, contemptible defiler, ascetic who dares to steal the secrets of the Holy Light, you are not worthy of the Holy Light's favor."
"Seriously?!"
Robbie's meditation was forcibly interrupted, and he nearly spat out a mouthful of blood.
Who said the Naaru were merciful and kind? And what was that about a "defiler"? What kind of unspeakable PY deal did the Naaru have with Thrall?
Unable to obtain a Naaru's favor, Robbie began to believe what the Holy Light Codex said.
The Holy Light Codex described all kinds of Paladin skills in detail, including ancient secret techniques that had long since been lost. It was extremely comprehensive. Unfortunately, Robbie searched the entire book without finding a method for ascetics to communicate with the Holy Light.
That bastard Arthas really is unreliable. He actually hid the most crucial part. After sitting there helplessly for quite a while, Robbie shook his head and could only put the Holy Light Codex away for now.
Frowning, Robbie thought to himself that the substitute for Mannoroth's blood was most likely the blood of a demon.
Why not try a Warlock's summoning spell?
Robbie opened On the Self-Cultivation of Demon Warlock, took out a soul shard, and cast Imp Summoning while following the incantation.
Nothing happened.
I can't sense any magical power. Does this mean I can only be a pure Warrior from now on?
Even a Warrior needed to master a little natural power, as with Thunder Clap.
Robbie sighed, feeling that his future was bleak.
Night fell. Slightly weary after a day's travel, Robbie ate some dry rations and found a place sheltered from the wind on a hillside to rest. Suddenly, he heard a commotion coming from the road.
It was the Horde.
It was a sizable group, a full fifty or sixty Orcs. They set up camp at the foot of the hill amid a great deal of noise and confusion.
The Orcs were well equipped. Their armor and weapons scraped together with grating sounds, while their loud, foul-mouthed voices added to the chaos. A dozen or so Worgs pulling wagons roared, and the wagons carried sturdy iron cages packed with Bronze Dragonflight whelps from the Blasted Lands.
The Azeroth Whelp Smuggling Association's members were mainly Orcs from Outland.
In Robbie Capor's memories, it was a notorious, thoroughly disreputable organization. It dosed captured whelps with a potion that kept them from growing and sold them at high prices to important figures in the Horde as pets and food.
Azeroth's dragons were the world's guardians and had protected Azeroth more than once. The dragons of the four flights had rendered especially great service in the battle against Deathwing.
Thus, races with long histories, such as elves, humans, and dwarves, maintained at least a basic respect for dragons and would never commit the evil of harming whelps.
Only Orcs from Outland ignored history and smuggled whelps for enormous profits, concerned solely with immediate gain. Especially after the Dragon Aspects lost their guardian powers and the status of dragons plummeted, the Orcs had grown even more brazen and unscrupulous.
Robbie sighed softly, clearly sensing the anger rising from deep within his memories. Although Robbie Capor had been an ignorant, incompetent swindler, he had possessed basic morals and a conscience, and knew what he should and should not do.
Unfortunately, the other side had strength in numbers, so Robbie could only keep his distance to avoid getting caught up in an undeserved disaster.
He slept well that night. By the time Robbie woke, the sun was already high in the sky.
A strong stench of blood drifted over on the wind, coming from the direction of the Whelp Smuggling Association's camp.
What happened?
Robbie cautiously approached the camp and got a terrible fright.
Inside, the camp was a hell on earth. Blood flowed freely like streams among shattered bones, scraps of flesh, and pale brains. There was not a single intact corpse to be found.
The cages on the wagons were all open. The Worgs and Orcs had died in the same manner, their bodies reduced to mangled pieces of flesh. The Bronze Dragonflight whelps had all escaped.
Whatever attacked the camp seemed to have been a monstrously strong beast. It had not only wiped out all the Orcs and Worgs, but had also trampled them repeatedly.
Strangely, the makeshift fence around the camp, the wagons full of goods, and the iron cages that had held the Bronze Dragonflight whelps were all intact, without the slightest damage.
The fighting had also been very brief. Many Orcs had been killed in their sleep, with no time to resist or flee.
Robbie sucked in a breath at the sight. What kind of monster did this? Something strong enough to tear Orcs and Worgs apart so easily should be enormous. Why didn't it leave any footprints? If it was a flying dragon, there should have been traces of Dragon's Breath, too.
Strange. Extremely strange. There are too many suspicious things. It's all because I slept too soundly last night and didn't hear a thing.
As he puzzled over it, a corner of a collapsed tent suddenly moved.
Robbie reached out and pulled out a little creature.
It was a miniature Kobold with soft golden fur, not much bigger than a house cat. He was ugly, filthy, and shifty-looking.
"Don't eat me," the Mini Kobold whimpered softly.
"All right, I won't eat you. Tell me what happened last night." Robbie let the Kobold go, unconcerned that he might run away.
The Mini Kobold hurriedly stood up straight.
"Those damned Orcs captured me and fed me a shrinking potion, and that's how I ended up like this. Last night, a Paladin came by, barehanded. With a wave of his hand, he unleashed a huge burst of Holy Light that blinded my dog eyes. In just an instant, the Orcs and Worgs all exploded. That was the power of the Holy Light, no doubt about it. He freed all the whelps and even cured my old leg ailment while he was at it."
"A Paladin?" Robbie looked puzzled. Blasting bodies apart with the power of the Holy Light sounded like Holy Light Burst, the ancient secret technique recorded in the Holy Light Codex. After pondering for a while, Robbie asked, "What did he look like?"
"His whole body was covered in Holy Light, bright as the sun. I couldn't see him clearly, but from his build, he looked human. Right, Tirion Fordring! It must have been Tirion Fordring. Only he could possess such powerful Holy Light. I can feel it, the shrinking potion is gradually wearing off. Thank the Holy Light, and thank Tirion Fordring! I'll soon be able to live normally again."
The Mini Kobold leaped for joy and turned several somersaults in a row.
Last night, Tirion Fordring had happened to pass through, killed the Orcs, saved the Bronze Dragonflight whelps, and cured the Mini Kobold while he was at it!
Robbie felt that something was wrong.
Wouldn't someone that important travel with an entourage? Even if he was traveling incognito, shouldn't he have brought a few attendants?
And what about his signature equipment, the artifact Ashbringer that never leaves his side? Why did the Mini Kobold say he was barehanded?
Besides, Tirion Fordring is clearly a Faith Paladin. How could he have mastered the ascetics' Holy Light Burst?
"What's this?" Robbie spotted a letter inside the tent where the Kobold had hidden.
Robbie opened the letter. Inside was a single thin sheet of paper:
"Secret orders: collect ingredients.
Recipe: whelp wings stewed with a golden Mini Kobold.
Ingredients: one hundred Bronze Dragonflight whelps, for the tips of their wings, which must be fresh; one rare golden Kobold.
Bronze Dragonflight whelps, a specialty of the Blasted Lands, can be purchased from the Iron Horde.
Golden Mini Kobolds are a specialty of Elwynn Forest on the Azeroth Continent.
Simmer gently over low heat and drink the broth to improve male function.
The above ingredients must be collected urgently to reward the great savior, the strongest Orc, guardian of the planet, the invincible Thrall. No carelessness will be tolerated. If the task is not completed on time, all involved will be executed.
Eitrigg, the great savior Thrall's most loyal friend and adviser on food and life."
"Improve male function." When Robbie read that, he took another look at the Mini Kobold.
The Mini Kobold flinched in fright and hurriedly waved his hands. "Don't listen to the nonsense in that letter. I'm just an ordinary Kobold. The golden fur was glued on afterward. There's no such thing as a golden Kobold. Eitrigg, that fake alchemist, was talking out of his ass."
Robbie tucked the letter away, nodded, and smiled. "Improving male function? That's pure nonsense, a trick used by charlatans. Anyway, with something like that, who would be willing to admit it didn't work? What man would let people call him useless?"
"Right, right, exactly." Afraid Robbie might change his mind, the Mini Kobold hastily agreed. "I have to leave quickly. With so many Orcs dead, the Peace Dove will definitely investigate this to the very end?"
"The Peace Dove?" It was the second time Robbie had heard the name. He frowned and asked, "What is the Peace Dove?"
The Mini Kobold narrowed his eyes and looked Robbie over with a hint of disdain. Raising his voice, he said, "What adventurer in this world doesn't know about the Peace Dove? You look so young. You must be a novice who's only just set out adventuring. Young man, adventuring is dangerous, and you can't trust what you learn from books."
Damn it, a Kobold is looking down on me. Robbie glared, picked up a blood-soaked Orc battle-ax, and made as if to swing it.
The Mini Kobold flinched and hurriedly waved his hands, begging for mercy. "Don't, don't! Impulse is the devil. I'll tell you, I'll tell you, all right? The Peace Dove is an organization. It was originally founded by the incredibly foolish King Terenas and built up by that bitch from Theramore. Now the pathetic prince of Stormwind City has taken it over. It mainly promotes Orc customs and reveres Orc culture. It's very popular among Alliance nobles. The Earthen Ring, the Cenarion, Ravenholdt, the Explorers' League, the Wyrmrest Accord, the Violet Eye, the Guardians of Hyjal, the Ashen Verdict, the Argent Crusade, the guardian dragons of the four flights, and so on... They all support the Peace Dove to varying degrees."
The incredibly foolish King Terenas, that bitch from Theramore, the pathetic prince of Stormwind City... Robbie's mouth twitched. What's all that about? Kobolds really are uncultured, with nothing but crude language coming out of their mouths.
"So the Peace Dove is an Alliance organization?" Robbie looked at the carnage around them. "If they investigate how these Orcs died, shouldn't we cooperate?"
The Mini Kobold rolled his eyes, barely suppressing a look of contempt. "Human, you're too young. You still don't know how cruel and helpless this world can be. Once this place is discovered, the Peace Dove will definitely capture every Alliance adventurer in the Blasted Lands and hang them all to comfort the spirits of the Orcs. This isn't the first time something like that has happened."
Hang them all! Robbie sucked in a breath, finding it hard to believe.
The Mini Kobold continued with a serious expression, "If I were you, I'd get away from this place of trouble as quickly as possible. There's no time to reach the camp and take a gryphon. We're not far from the Dark Portal. Leaving for distant Draenor before anyone discovers this is the only way to survive."
The Kobold was probably exaggerating, but with something like this, it was better to believe it than dismiss it. Relying on experience from a game to deal with an unfamiliar world would be an extremely foolish way to get himself killed. Robbie thought it over and replied, "All right. I'm heading for the Dark Portal anyway."
"Let's go together! Together! I know a shortcut." The Mini Kobold cheered loudly.