"You mean the Burning Legion?" Sen'jin sneered and shook his head. "Even the eternally existing Zandalari Empire is far from being a match for the Burning Legion. I have never considered fighting against the Legion."
The Priest looked at Sen'jin with surprise. "Your Excellency, what do you mean?"
Sen'jin chuckled smugly and said:
"The Burning Legion will never tolerate trash. Once we defeat the Orcs, we can take their place. The Burning Legion's invasion is a disaster for Azeroth, but it is also the hope for the rise of our Darkspear Horde."
The Priest breathed a sigh of relief; this idea suited him perfectly.
If a conflict were to truly erupt with the Burning Legion, the Darkspear Trolls would be annihilated. How could a Legion capable of destroying countless worlds possibly stand against a mere Darkspear Trolls?
Sen'jin's eyes flashed with a dangerous light. "Priest, you must be very careful while you serve Tide Lord Feralas. The Tide Lord can help us fight off the Orcs, but we absolutely cannot let the Murlocs defect to the Burning Legion before us. Darkspear Lady, may the Legion not take a liking to a bunch of foolish Murlocs."
The Priest confidently assured him, "As far as I know, the Murlocs of Feralas seem to have received some kind of premonition and regard the Burning Legion as their mortal enemy. I think the Murlocs will not side with the Legion, and the Legion will reject them as well."
"Some kind of omen?" Sen'jin was startled. He too had received a mysterious omen, which was why he had decided to refuse to cooperate with the Orcs. Strange, who was this being hiding behind the scenes?
Thinking about this, Sen'jin was in a state of confusion and didn't know what to do.
The Priest, oblivious to Sen'jin's concerns, suddenly remembered something. "Your Warchief, an unknown figure named Vol'jin has accused you of making a mistake. He arrogantly claims that the Darkspear Trolls must cooperate with the Orcs, and that only by uniting can Azeroth be saved."
"Foolish!" Sen'jin shouted impatiently. "Orcs are nothing but slaves of the Burning Legion. If we side with Orcs, we'll be their dogs. What a humiliation! By the way, you said this man's name is Vol'jin."
The Priest nodded. "He claims to be your son, but that's a fabricated lie. He's an unlucky exile. My advice is to eliminate him while Vol'jin's influence is still small, otherwise, the consequences will be dire."
To be able to contradict a great chieftain is either the mark of a ruthless hero or the mark of a fool.
Sen'jin lowered his head and pondered for a long time before saying, "It's alright, let him do what he wants. He's just a small fry and can't cause any trouble. I want the people of the Darkspear Trolls to see that I, Sen'jin, am a benevolent chieftain."
The Priest was puzzled. Why had the cruel and bloodthirsty Sen'jin chieftain changed his ways? The Priest had heard some rumors that Vol'jin's father was a high-ranking official in the Zandalari Empire, but the Priest did not believe them.
The nobles of the Zandalari Empire value their reputation; how could they allow their Bastard Son to be stranded on a desolate Island?
"Our war against the Orcs cannot be taken lightly," Sen'jin ordered solemnly and meticulously.
"Immediately notify the Murlocs to cooperate with us in this battle. If necessary, pray for the help of the Tide Lords. Send a message to the Kul Tiras navy, requesting that they send a fleet to intercept the Orcs fleet. We will agree to whatever harsh conditions they propose. As long as the Darkspear Tribe successfully replaces the Orcs as the Burning Legion's pawns, I will first wipe out these humans—oh no, first destroy the Zandalari Empire."
The Darkspear Tribe has entered a state of high alert. Almost the entire Troll is armed, and even the women possess considerable fighting power. Having lived on the Echo Isles for many years, they have long since adapted to life at sea.
Furthermore, the Trolls are skilled at throwing javelins, and the Darkspear Trolls can maintain the accuracy of their javelins even on a constantly rocking ship. As long as the Battlefield is set on the ocean, with the cooperation of the Murlocs, the Orcs are bound to fail.
With the help of the rotting Murlocs, news of Vol'jin's opposition to Sen'jin Warchief quickly spread throughout the Darkspear Tribe, and everyone was waiting to see Vol'jin's corpse hung on a flagpole as a warning, or thrown into a boiling cauldron to be cooked.
Strangely, Chief Sen'jin paid no attention to this, as if he hadn't heard anything.
Chief Sen'jin's unexpected actions sparked speculation among his people about Vol'jin's origins.
A more plausible explanation is that Vol'jin is the Bastard Son of a powerful figure in the Zandalari Empire, or even the son of the God-King Rastakhan, and will soon return to inherit the throne.
Unreliable claims: Vol'jin is a descendant of some evil god, or an evil god descended from heaven.
There are differing opinions on this, with evidence including the appearance of the Darkspear Lady on the day of Vol'jin's birth, and a more common explanation being that Vol'jin is one of the spirits who came to save the Darkspear Tribe.
A mysterious aura surrounded Vol'jin, and people speculated about his identity, with the rumors becoming increasingly outlandish.
Varimathras, posing as Heijin, roamed among the Darkspear Tribe and soon heard of Vol'jin's reputation.
A rational Dreadlord, of course, didn't believe Vol'jin was some kind of reincarnation of all spirits; he was more inclined to believe that Vol'jin was the Bastard Son of a high-ranking noble in the Zandalari Empire. At the same time, Varimathras realized this was an opportunity; the Burning Legion needed a thorn in the Darkspear Horde to coordinate with the Orcs' attack.
The only one who dares to openly oppose Chief Sen'jin now is Vol'jin; there is no other choice.
Varimathras hired a small fishing boat and landed on the island where Vol'jin was exiled.
Before the arrival of the Dreadlord, Vol'jin gained several Followers: a Pirate who had lost both arms, a fisherman without a boat, several escaped convicts, and a lost Ogre.
Varimathras, disguised as Heijin, was the only normal Troll. After a brief conversation, Vol'jin discovered that this Heijin was extremely knowledgeable, knowing everything from astronomy to geography, and was a remarkable talent. He was particularly pleased.
Varimathras also sensed a mysterious power enveloping Vol'jin, guessing it was from a Loa.
In the Troll race, divine support is a prerequisite for becoming a chieftain, which gave Varimathras hope.
"From this day forward, you are my chieftain, and I pledge my allegiance to you, great Chieftain Vol'jin."
Varimathras feigned loyalty.
"Please don't say that." Vol'jin shook his head and said modestly, "I only wanted to do my part to save Azeroth and for the great Savior Thrall. I never had any ambition for the position of chieftain. Besides, I only have these few people here, how could I possibly replace Chieftain Sen'jin?"
"Sen'jin is a complete fool; his stupidity will destroy the Darkspear Tribe."
Varimathras cursed Sen'jin viciously, then said confidently:
"Warchief Vol'jin, you are my hero, the only hope of the Darkspear Horde. Your foresight and wisdom fill me with admiration. Believe me, I guarantee that with my silver tongue, I can bring you considerable assistance once I set out. All you need to do is offer a little help."
Vol'jin looked at the young Troll with a puzzled expression. "I don't know how I can help you."
Varimathras smiled mysteriously and said, "Great Vol'jin, I need a letter from you in person."