"The history you've seen doesn't tell you that, with dozens of chieftains following in their footsteps, the Darkspear Trolls' victory over the Murlocs was within reach. The Tide Lord Feralas was wounded and on his last breath. Led by Bwonsamdi, the Darkspear Trolls warriors had already stormed into the Tide Lord's lair."
"What?"
Vol'jin was shocked upon hearing this, and his body trembled uncontrollably.
"What's even more astonishing is what happened next. After Bwonsamdi was banished, no one could withstand Tide Lord Feralas. It unleashed a great tide, and half a million Darkspear Trolls warriors perished in its belly. The Darkspear Trolls that survived are all descendants of cowards who surrendered to the Murlocs back then, descendants of the Betrayer. Not a single one of them has clean blood."
"This! This! Five hundred thousand Darkspear Trolls, they're all my own people!"
Vol'jin felt his head buzzing; he hadn't realized the history of the Darkspear Tribe was so horrific.
"That's right. The Darkspear Trolls haven't recovered their strength yet, but they've secured the position of chieftain for the Sen'jin family. They're now enjoying wealth, power, and prestige. Vol'jin, remember, in the Troll race, no chieftain's position is clean; their hands are stained with the blood of their own people."
Vol'jin lowered his head, lost in thought; he was intrigued.
The mysterious being continued to intensify the temptation, speaking eloquently, "The toil of hundreds of people is needed to bring wealth to one person; the innocent deaths of hundreds of thousands of Darkspear Trolls are needed to secure the position of chieftain. This is the only path to the chieftainship; there is absolutely no other way. Vol'jin, don't you understand?"
"What should I do?" Vol'jin asked in a low voice.
"Very well, Vol'jin, you have finally broken free from the shackles of morality and conscience. This is the person I have in mind. What you need to do is simple: spread the word, publicly declare that you should cooperate with the Orcs, and that Chieftain Sen'jin is wrong. Believe me, many foolish Trolls will heed your call, and you can take this opportunity to gather strength."
Vol'jin shook his head and chuckled, "Chief Sen'jin is ruthless; he even killed his beloved Legitimate Son without hesitation. I don't want to be thrown into a boiling cauldron."
"Vol'jin, you haven't realized your own advantage yet," the mysterious being warned, having anticipated this.
"Your father is a high-ranking and powerful figure in the Zandalari Empire. The ancient and enduring Zandalari Empire is not comparable to the small Darkspear Tribe. Chieftain Sen'jin would never dare to touch you, otherwise he would give the Zandalari Empire ample reason to do so, and his position as chieftain would surely be in jeopardy."
Vol'jin fell into deep thought. It was an exceptionally difficult decision. Not all Trolls could betray their people without any moral boundaries, just as not all Trolls could become chieftains.
"Don't hesitate, Vol'jin," the mysterious being urged, seemingly growing impatient.
"You're no longer young. This is your only chance. My goal is to cultivate a true Warchief, a king capable of conquering all of Azeroth, not a hesitant Troll. If you refuse, I will leave disappointed. Without my help, how will the fishermen and Pirates you've plundered treat you?"
Upon hearing this, Vol'jin trembled. Without the help of the mysterious being, he would soon die.
"So what is the price?"
Vol'jin knew very well that gods and mortals only made deals; there was no such thing as free help.
The mysterious being remained silent for a long time before finally asking, "Do you absolutely need to know?"
"Yes, that's the premise of all cooperation," Vol'jin said firmly. "Otherwise, I'd rather refuse. I might survive without you; I can hide my identity and become a wandering adventurer."
The mysterious being hesitated for a long time before answering:
"Long ago, a human prophesied that my partner would be a beautiful and intelligent princess. The prophecy has come very close, but unfortunately, God-King Rastakhan has no children, and my hopes are about to be dashed. Damn it, how could I believe human prophecies? They're just lying. When you become a great king, a hero of the Troll race, you must marry your daughter to me. This is my condition, and my only requirement."
This wasn't an unbearable price to pay; on the contrary, Vol'jin felt the price was too light, making him doubt his good fortune. He asked in bewilderment, "If you just want a princess, Chief Sen'jin has countless daughters. He would be happy to let you choose any one you like, and he wouldn't even mind if you took them all."
You wouldn't understand.
The mysterious figure spoke with a hint of shyness:
"Chief Sen'jin pays no attention to his daughter, treating her like a weed in the field. What I need is a true princess, well-educated, decisive, and wise, preferably someone I can secretly nurture to become my ideal partner. Therefore, I will start by cultivating her father. You have noble blood, and I have high hopes for you."
The idea of raising a goddess's bride was somewhat amusing to Vol'jin, but he was ultimately relieved and his concerns were dispelled. After all Loa were diverse, and their incomprehensible desires were beyond the understanding of mortals.
Vol'jin's eyes gleamed, and he finally made up his mind. He stood up straight, like a straight javelin, and looked toward the Echo Isles Royal Palace, his eyes filled with longing.
The mysterious being praised:
"I am pleased, Vol'jin, I have finally seen your ambition, but you are looking in the wrong direction. Your stage is not in the small Echo Isles, the mere Darkspear Tribe cannot contain your desires. You will set your sights on Kalimdor, the land of the Night Elves, and in the near future, all of Azeroth will be yours."
Robbie secretly landed on the Island and sensed a familiar smell of death about Island.
It really is Troll Death God Bwonsamdi. He's secretly helping Vol'jin. What exactly is this treacherous guy's purpose?
On the beach, a large group of resurrected Murlocs were busy at work under the command of a Troll.
There were no other Trolls on the island, so Robbie could conclude that the old-looking Troll must be Vol'jin.
Power can bring confidence. Before becoming Warchief, one's temperament and appearance are completely different, almost like two different people.
Robbie carefully observed the Murloc at work, as they carved words on stones and wooden planks.
This is the language of the Trolls, roughly meaning that we Darkspear Trolls should cooperate with the Orcs. Chieftain Sen'jin is acting unilaterally; he is old and senile and will bring disaster to the Darkspear Trolls. I, Vol'jin, support joining forces with the Orcs.
What kind of operation is this?
Robbie, who was observing from the shadows, was somewhat puzzled.
"Could this be the beginning of Vol'jin's ascension to the chieftainship? Now we'll see how old Chieftain Sen'jin reacts."
After searching the Island, which wasn't very large, Robbie found traces of Bwonsamdi, the Grim Reaper, amidst the desolate rocks and sparse vegetation. The treacherous fellow was at the highest point of the Island, looking at Vol'jin with a mocking expression.
Robbie found Bwonsamdi, the Grim Reaper, who was unaware of Robbie's existence. Robbie knew this was his advantage and that it wasn't the right time to confront him directly.
Inside the secret chamber of the Darkspear Trolls Royal Palace, Sen'jin and the old Priest spoke privately.
"Your Excellency Chieftain," the old Priest said with a worried expression, "the Orcs are merely the minions of the Burning Legion. If we defeat the Orcs, how will we face the Burning Legion next?"