Samuro realized something was wrong; his pleas had no effect whatsoever.
Tyrande gently raised her hand, and Arcane threads, like a spider web, bound Samuro tightly, leaving only his round head exposed.
Malfurion pulled a leather pouch from his robes and took out small tweezers, scissors, a hammer, and other exquisitely crafted items, arranging them neatly in their respective categories. His movements were very practiced, indicating that he had done this many times before.
After repeatedly polishing the exquisite little tools, Malfurion said earnestly:
"To be honest, I'm under a lot of psychological pressure. The Orcs brain structure is probably different from that of the creatures of Azeroth. Fortunately, destruction is much easier than repair. Samuro, a poor swordsman, you will lose your memory, forget who you are, and forget your swordsmanship skills. Of course, that's not enough. To prevent soul torture, the soul-level torture will be left to Tyrande."
Samuro was dejected; having encountered such a monstrous couple, he could only accept his fate.
Malfurion picked up the small hammer and, with a grin, tapped Samuro on the head.
When Samuro awoke, he found himself lying in ruins. The nearby river was filled with green sewage, clearly Corruption, and a sickly fawn was watching him with ill intent.
Who am I? Where am I?
Samuro found a package on his person, inside which he found dozens of gold coins and a faded diary, mostly damaged by being soaked in green sewage.
Reading the remaining parts of the diary, Samuro realized that he was Samuro, the swordsman of the Burning Blade Clan, but unfortunately he couldn't remember any of it.
Samuro found a tree branch and tried to practice his swordsmanship, only to find that he had completely forgotten it.
Having lost all his skills, it seems he has no choice but to retire.
Samuro, carrying his bundle, wandered aimlessly along the main road.
Later, Samuro unexpectedly discovered his singing talent and became a wandering singer. He later made a name for himself and joined the Tauren Chieftains.
Tyrande and Malfurion emerged from the cave and once again felt the warmth of the sun.
This is Felwood, Corruption by the Legion. After dealing with Samuro, Tyrande remembered Jaina and realized it was all her scheme, so she began to berate Malfurion again.
Malfurion once again felt his spirit Corruption, like the waters of Felwood.
"Tyrande, what should we do next?" Malfurion tried to change the subject.
Tyrande glared at Malfurion and said irritably, "What else can we do? Back in Darnassus, we were fooled by a human little girl. We've truly lost face."
Gazing upon the vast, decaying forest, the once clear rivers now turned into green, polluted water, Malfurion heard the earth weeping. He hesitated, then finally spoke after a long pause, "Tyrande, have you ever thought of fighting a true battle, for the Night Elf race, for the Azeroth, like a hero?"
Tyrande was startled and asked, "What are you trying to say?"
Malfurion clenched his fist, a resolute look on his face. "We absolutely cannot let Archimonde destroy this world. Among the Night Elf race, only we know how to unleash the Wrath of Nordrassil."
Tyrande hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Medivh deceived us. This was clearly Archimonde's doing. We must teach him the consequences of breaking an oath. Archimonde must die."
Mount Hyjal, the nineteenth fortress of the Night Elves.
Fandral Staghelm and Maiev Shadowsong leaned side by side against the city wall, while Legion soldiers stood ready in the distance. Behind the Legion soldiers, hundreds of Fel Cannons were being loaded.
The soldiers inside the fortress were already exhausted and unable to break through the Legion's defenses. Fandral Staghelm was powerless and could only offer a wry smile. He looked at Maiev, who was clad in thick Watchers, and suddenly asked:
"Maiev, for ten thousand years, I've had a question I've always wanted to ask you."
"Speak!"
"Don't you have someone you like? Why don't you find a partner?" Fandral Staghelm asked out of concern.
Maiev paused visibly after hearing this. At a time like this, Fandral Staghelm was actually concerned about this. After a long silence, Maiev sighed silently and replied, "Actually, I do have someone I like. He is..."
Rumble.
Hundreds of Fel Cannons roared in unison. Fandral Staghelm did not hear Maiev's reply; he could only close his eyes and wait for the fortress to turn into rubble.
The shells exploded right overhead, but none of them landed inside the fortress.
Fandral Staghelm opened his eyes in surprise and saw a hemispherical purple shield covering the entire fortress.
Suddenly, a group of Night Elves appeared inside the fortress, numbering around one hundred. They wore black masks and together supported the Magic Shield.
A Portal opened, Valstann Fandral Staghelm led Shandris Feathermoon through Portal. Clearly, the Secret Mage Corps had been settled, but General Feathermoon had stayed behind out of concern for the fortress's safety.
"Father, I've arrived." Valstann looked at his father and said excitedly, "We have a mage corps now!"
Fandral Staghelm looked at the Night Elf mage who had erected the protective shield and asked, "Who are they?"
Valstann paused for a moment, then replied, "They are the people of our tribe who went missing from Mount Hyjal. We selected the one hundred best among them and trained them in magic day and night. We finally caught up."
Nowadays, Night Elves learning magic first need to overcome their Mana Addiction. Fandral Staghelm asked with surprise, "You've already found a way to overcome Mana Addiction?"
Valstann shook his head. "The Night Elves haven't touched magic for ten thousand years. It's like a person who has been starving for a long time; it takes a long time for them to adapt to eating again. Mana Addiction can't be cured in a short time."
Fandral Staghelm awaited his son's answer. Valstann hesitated for a long time, then sighed.
"There is only one way to overcome Mana Addiction as quickly as possible: to become Undead. They voluntarily transformed themselves into Undead; this is the price Elf mages pay."
Archimonde gazed at the purple shield in the distance, knowing exactly what it signified.
Mannoroth rubbed his eyes carefully and exclaimed in surprise, "This is our Legion's Magic Shield!"
With the Burning Legion's Magic Shield appearing, Archimonde could easily deduce that Queen Azshara's Highborne had joined the war, protecting her last remaining people.
The fact that the shield only provides protection without launching an attack on the Legion demonstrates an attitude: whether or not to escalate the conflict depends on Archimonde's decision.
"Lord Archimonde, General Azgalor awaits your orders."
A Legion soldier reported to Archimonde that Azgalor was at a loss after the Legion's shield appeared.
Archimonde remained silent for a long while, then suddenly stood up, like a towering mountain peak, and slowly walked towards the Battlefield, arriving at the front of the position.
Fandral Staghelm stared in astonishment at the towering Eredar. Could a hundred night mages, hastily trained in magic, possibly stop Archimonde? The answer was clearly no.