Inside the dark Vault of the Wardens, a rat had just peeked out when it was immediately frightened back by the murderous aura released by Maiev.
Maiev glared angrily at Tyrande.
Compared to Tyrande, who only devoutly serves the Moon Goddess, Maiev has principles. For example, she has doubted the Moon Goddess more than once and does not blindly follow the Moon Goddess's oracle.
Tyrande was prepared for Maiev's refusal, and first coldly questioned, "Maiev, do you also wish to defy the oracle of the Moon Goddess?"
"I don't care about any divine pronouncements!" Maiev roared angrily, brandishing her claws. "My brothers and sisters are in Ashenvale; they are all my family. I will never betray my people under any circumstances."
"Betrayal?" Tyrande shook her head with a smile. "Maiev, I know you. In most cases, you would choose to protect your people, but you absolutely don't have the courage to die for them. If you're unwilling to release Illidan, then I will declare Illidan innocent. You've tormented him for ten thousand years; guess how he'll deal with you?"
"Tyrande, you are utterly despicable." Maiev was filled with hatred. If she had known it would turn out this way, she would have forced Illidan's infatuation onto her, so she wouldn't have been coerced by Tyrande.
"Despicable." Tyrande looked at Maiev with a smug expression. "I like that word; consider it a compliment."
Maiev had no choice but to give up. "Fine, Tyrande, you win. Illidan is yours. Ashenvale, is it? I'll implant false memories in him, making him see the Night Elves of Ashenvale as enemies, but..."
Looking directly into Tyrande's eyes, Maiev asked curiously, "Is power really that important to you?"
"You wouldn't understand, Maiev, after all, you're just a lowly the Jailer." Tyrande took the key from Maiev's hand and walked briskly towards the prison where Illidan was imprisoned. She was going to release this ferocious beast.
There are absolutely no secrets in the world.
Tyrande released Illidan to deal with the Night Elves of Ashenvale. News of this quickly spread from the Vault of the Wardens. Upon learning this, Alaina Radiant Star was stunned for a long time before finally letting out a wry smile and saying:
"There's no other way. Our fellow citizens of Ashenvale can only scatter and flee. Let's try to get as many away as possible."
"Illidan is just one person, are you all that afraid of him?" Robbie asked.
Alaina Shiningstar gazed at the sky over Ashenvale, her face filled with despair. "My Emissary, you don't understand how powerful Illidan is. He's a monster. Back then, we defeated the Qiraji, but we dared not venture deep into the Temple of Ahn'Qiraj. A group of Dragonkin went in to investigate, and not a single one returned."
The Temple of Ahn'Qiraj is C'Thun's lair; the Dragonkin are no match for the Old Gods.
"Later we sent Illidan," Alaina Radiant Star recounted with lingering fear. "After three days and three nights, Illidan emerged, slightly exhausted but without a single wound. We entered the Temple of Ahn'Qiraj and found all the Zerg dead, not a single living soul. Many of those beings were even more terrifying than the Dragon King."
The Illidan inside the Vault of the Wardens was actually Aman'Thul in disguise.
Although it was only a small part of the power of Aman'Thul, the Father of the Gods, it still possessed the great wisdom of a Titans, and C'Thun, still sealed within the Titans, was no match for him.
Robbie stood up and said confidently, "I'll deal with Illidan. I'll persuade him to do something truly meaningful, like avenging Cenarius, instead of raising his sword against his own people."
Ten thousand years ago, it was Robbie and Illidan who taught Maiev how to torment Aman'Thul's soul. Maiev was able to control Illidan to work for the Night Elves, so Robbie could easily have altered Maiev's orders.
The beautiful little valley is filled with flowers of all colors.
Growing flowers is one of the few hobbies of Mannoroth, the Pit Lord. He carefully selects flower seeds from countless worlds and plants them in his residence.
Smelling the alluring fragrance of flowers, I feel the beauty of life.
Mannoroth was a Pit Lord with dreams. He longed for the success of the Legion's cause, so that he could retire and live in a world full of beautiful flowers, free from dealing with a bunch of filthy Orcs.
For example, Grom Hellscream and his savage minions.
When the Night Elves of Ashenvale slaughtered three thousand Warsong Clan prisoners, Grommash Hellscream was furious and complained all day long. Mannoroth knew he was talking to him, blaming Mannoroth for not personally taking action.
Mannoroth was following Archimonde's orders to assist the Warsong Clan from the shadows, not to Charge on the front lines, so Mannoroth pretended not to hear the old Orcs's complaints.
Not long after, Tyrande sent a letter, first apologizing for Ashenvale's actions, and then stating that she had sent Illidan Stormrage to punish the Night Elves of Ashenvale, after which Ashenvale would belong to the Warsong Clan.
This letter excited Grommash Hellscream. The Dragonkin readily sent a thousand descendants of the Warsong Clan, and more Orcs soldiers were on their way. Grommash Hellscream began to busy himself with preparations.
Grommash Hellscream hid a thousand soldiers in a small valley in Mannoroth, where a special Magic Circle belonging to the Burning Legion was built to conceal their presence. He was waiting for the Night Elves of Ashenvale to die out before he would take over Ashenvale Grommash Hellscream.
"Who is Illidan Stormrage?" Grommash Hellscream suddenly asked out of the blue.
Mannoroth, knowing the truth from ten thousand years ago, patiently explained:
"He is a genius that the Night Elf race have only seen once in ten thousand years. It is said that his talent is even greater than Queen Azshara's. For ten thousand years, the Night Elf race have been so powerful that even our Burning Legion dares not challenge them."
Mannoroth quickly stopped himself, almost letting something slip. He paused, then warned, "Illidan is a very dangerous man. If you encounter him, remember not to fight him one-on-one. Run away quickly; you might still have a chance to survive."
"Haha!" Grommash Hellscream the sharp Gorehowl and said with utmost confidence, "All my enemies who opposed me are dead. He was just a Night Elf; I didn't take him seriously at all."
Suddenly, a strong, pungent smell of blood filled the air.
Mannoroth frowned, thinking to himself that these filthy Orcs must be fighting amongst themselves again, soiling his garden. But the stench of blood was too strong, so Mannoroth, along with Grommash Hellscream, hurriedly headed towards the Orcs Camp nearby.
There were originally a thousand Orcs stationed here, soldiers recently sent by the Dragonkin.
All the Orcs had vanished, leaving only countless pieces of meat, each the size of a tofu block, neatly cut and almost uniform in size, on the ground.
A winged monster flew through the air, with a pair of curved demonic horns on its head. Its eyes spewed out Fel energy as it coldly stared at the two below.
"So you're Grom Hellscream, the murderer of Cenarius?" The monster stared at the old Orcs carrying Gorehowl. "Interesting. Cenarius, though an idiot, was killed by a filthy creature like you."
Grommash Hellscream hastily discarded Gorehowl and prostrated himself on the ground. "Revered and great being, I am but an old and incompetent Orcs. How could I possibly have killed Lord Cenarius? The murderer is this Pit Lord."
Mannoroth glared at Grommash Hellscream, thinking to himself, "You're too despicable. You betrayed me so quickly." As Archimonde's Adjutant, Mannoroth was no Imp.
"That's right. I'm the one who ate Cenarius."