"I'm really looking forward to this delicious meal, and I also really want that fur coat."
Thrall smiled, a smile he hadn't seen in days.
"Foolish." Vol'jin remained assertive, loudly rebuking Rokhan: "You only see a delicious meal, but I see a steady stream of Pandaren from Pandaria marching in orderly ranks into our Slaughterhouse, where we can skin and eat them, and their skilled Warriors can also help us in battle."
Everyone present stared blankly at this "unfamiliar" Vol'jin. Thrall felt dizzy and dumbfounded, feeling that this Vol'jin was completely different from before.
Varimathras gave Vol'jin a careful look, a slight smirk playing on his lips, as if he understood something.
"Vol'jin!" Thrall was displeased with Vol'jin's assertiveness and retorted angrily, "We're discussing important military matters. What nonsense are you spouting? Are the Pandaren stupid? Coming here to their deaths?"
Vol'jin stood up, glanced around, and said in a low voice, "Honorable Savior Thrall, the safety of the fleet is only temporary. Once we successfully land on Kalimdor, we will face real difficulties, such as how to feed the 100,000 Orcs and the 30,000 new Darkspear Tribe. Orcs need meat to maintain their fighting strength."
"That's easy." Thrall snorted, annoyed. "Kalimdor has so many races, it's practically a natural meat pit, especially the Tauren, who are delicious. We can just eat wherever we go!"
Vol'jin shrugged, then looked at Varimathras: "Honorable Dreadlord, what do you think?"
Varimathras, having fought for countless years, knew the importance of logistics and said in a low voice:
"Kalimdor differs from the other races of the Eastern Kingdoms. For example, humans are primarily an agrarian civilization, and lords and commoners rarely leave their lands, so they are accustomed to defending themselves when faced with invasion. However, the many races of Kalimdor are nomadic. Seeing the Orcs' overwhelming strength, they will surely avoid the fray and flee at the first sign of trouble. The Orcs are not adept at pursuit. One hundred thousand Orcs consume enormous amounts of resources daily; without stable logistical support, they will likely all starve to death within a week."
"This!"
Thrall looked embarrassed and could only scratch his head to hide it. He was used to fighting humans and hadn't considered that this new enemy was completely different from humans. Thrall was unwilling to give up and grinned as he pressed on:
"Vol'jin, you still haven't answered me: why would the Pandaren willingly walk into our Slaughterhouse?"
Varimathras also looked puzzled. After all, he was an outsider and didn't know much about the Pandaren of Azeroth. Vol'jin smiled faintly and explained:
"Pandaren naturally simple, peaceful, brave in battle, and intelligent. However, they have a weakness: they are stubborn, proud, and never admit their mistakes. Pandaren are skilled cooks. In ancient times, there was a chef who left behind more than a thousand recipes and could make all kinds of delicious food. He was revered as the God of Food and worshipped by Pandaren Chefs."
"However, in one recipe, perhaps due to a typo or a transcription error, there was a poison called 'Heartbreak Grass.' Although countless Pandaren Chefs were poisoned to death, they still stubbornly believed that this recipe was correct, and that later generations were simply too foolish to master the proper cooking method."
Rokhan listened with a puzzled look, not understanding the significance of this example, and nodded, saying:
"I've heard Chen Stormstout say that his father and grandfather were both poisoned by this recipe. Chen Stormstout is determined to inherit his ancestors' will and unlock the secrets of the recipe. He's told me more than once that the ancient God of Food was extraordinary and had superb culinary skills, and his recipe is absolutely, positively correct. This stubborn Pandaren is truly both funny and exasperating."
Varimathras understood immediately, nodded with a smile, and gave Vol'jin a satisfied smile.
Thrall was still completely bewildered. "What does a recipe that can kill people prove?"
Varimathras shook his head, slightly disappointed in Thrall. Vol'jin narrowed his eyes and explained calmly:
"In Pandaria, the Orcs saved Azeroth. Our Thrall, the great Savior, has won the hearts of all Pandaren, thanks to the successful propaganda of the Dragonkin and the Guardian Medivh. Although many outsiders or a few wise Pandaren have presented overwhelming evidence that the Orcs have committed countless massacres, they have all been expelled or even executed. Stubbornness and pride have blinded the Pandaren to the truth. Even if we devour them all, they will never admit that their judgment is wrong."
"How could there be such a stupid creature!" Thrall couldn't believe his ears.
"And there's something even more important," Vol'jin announced excitedly, his eyes gleaming. "Pandaria has twelve giant turtles with the blood of Old Gods, which can help us cross the seas. The Kul Tiras fleet dares not attack the stubborn Pandaren, otherwise they will be considered eternal enemies, locked in a life-or-death struggle. These twelve ancient giant turtles will be our military rations."
Although Thrall was unwilling, he had no choice but to nod in agreement due to the circumstances. "Vol'jin, how should we proceed to make the Pandaren willingly walk into our trap?"
Vol'jin's eyes flickered slightly, and he smiled, "It's simple. Just have Chen Stormstout write a few letters asking for help, and Pandaren and their giant turtles will come knocking on our door. So the only problem is persuading Chen Stormstout."
Thrall stood up, realizing his position had been slightly shaken, but with Varimathras present, he could do nothing but give the order:
"Vol'jin, since it was your suggestion, you must have already found a way to persuade this foolish Pandaren. Alright, I'll put Chen Stormstout on the menu for now, and we can have it another time. For now, it's yours."
"Don't worry, I already have a plan," Vol'jin said with a hint of smugness.
Chen Stormstout had been starving for three days and three nights, which was the most terrifying torture for Pandaren who loved food.
Over the course of these three days, several Troll Chefs first visited, carefully weighed him, estimated how much meat he could produce, calculated the ratio of fat to lean meat, the weight of bones and internal organs, and so on.
Then came a tailor who carefully examined the fur, took the measurements, and calculated the size of the fur coat.
"Am I about to be skinned and eaten?!" Chen Stormstout realized his Destiny. He had heard Thrall's name more than once in conversations with the Chef and the tailor.
Chen Stormstout is very proud of his carefully maintained flesh and blood, which he believes can produce absolutely exquisite delicacies. His fur is also of the finest quality, sure to keep the Savior Thrall warm.
"Everyone says Thrall is a great Savior, kind-hearted, broad-minded, and a noble Orcs. Why would he eat me?" Chen Stormstout couldn't understand. Because of Rokhan's deception, he deeply hated the Darkspear Trolls and refused to leave the Trolls ' Royal Palace, precisely because of his longing for and trust in the Orcs.
Unfortunately, the Orcs disappointed him greatly, completely different from what he had heard.
"Could it be that the Dragonkin and the Guardians are wrong?" This thought flashed through Chen Stormstout, but he immediately dismissed it. "Dragonkin are a noble race, and Medivh Guardian is even more great; they wouldn't lie. But Thrall wanted to eat me, so how do I explain that? This is really perplexing; my head is throbbing."