Behind Rhonin, Garrosh saw Vol'jin, Eitrigg, Tirion Fordring, Sylvanas, Dranosh Saurfang, and a small number of high-ranking Orcs.
Among them, Vol'jin, Eitrigg, Dranosh, and Sylvanas were all wearing pajamas.
Sylvanas's red pajamas, in particular, are the most eye-catching. They are made from the skin of the Vulpera of Vol'dun in Zandalar, and only the rarest Vulpera can achieve this effect through special enchantments. Each piece is worth a fortune.
Clearly, these four were incredibly cunning. Like Garrosh, they had never fought before, and when they sensed danger, they tore open the Teleportation Scroll and fled.
The magical city of Dalaran, floating in the air, is now the only safe place in Northrend.
Tirion Fordring, on the other hand, wore thick golden armor, his face covered in dust and dirt, with a huge tear in the front of his armor, as if it had been ripped open by claws.
Although healed by the Holy Light, the wound was still bleeding profusely.
Even more devastating was the blow to Tirion Fordring's spirit. At this moment, Tirion Fordring was dejected, crouching in a corner with Ashbringer in his arms, looking dejected and ashamed to be seen by anyone.
After two consecutive farcical victories over Arthas, Tirion Fordring was getting a little cocky, believing that even if he were to actually fight Arthas, he would only be slightly weaker than Arthas.
Unfortunately, reality is cruel; Tirion Fordring was defeated by a Ghoul.
It was an ordinary Ghoul. The Ashbringer, radiating endless Holy Light, struck the Ghoul on the back, leaving only a white mark.
The Ghoul turned around quickly, raising its claws. Seeing that it was a human who wasn't on tonight's kill list, it looked confused, but instinctively swung its claw.
Tirion Fordring's armor shattered, leaving a huge wound. He was nearly cleaved in two, but luckily Tirion Fordring wasn't Orcs, so the Ghoul didn't pursue him, and he escaped with his life.
Tirion Fordring, who prided himself on being the embodiment of the Holy Light and the nemesis of the Undead, was ashamed and depressed because he couldn't even defeat the lowest-ranking Ghouls of the Scourge. He wished he could disappear into the ground.
Hearing Garrosh's boastful words, Sylvanas calmly replied:
"I was resting in Vol'jin's camp when the Void Lords, along with four Old Gods, launched a sneak attack. I severely wounded the four Old Gods, injured the Void Lords, and killed millions of Void Creatures, but the enemy was simply too numerous and endless, forcing me to retreat temporarily."
Garrosh stared at Sylvanas's red pajamas, thinking to himself, "Who would believe your lie?"
Vol'jin and Eitrigg said in unison:
"The Queen is right. We are comrades-in-arms fighting against the same enemy, and we can vouch for each other."
Dranosh also wanted to boast a bit to save face after his failure, but he was too thin-skinned and couldn't find a good reason, so he had to give up for the time being.
Seeing this, Garrosh felt much better and grinned maliciously, "So, in one night, the Horde's forces in Northrend were wiped out?"
Tirion Fordring raised his head, somewhat smugly, and stubbornly said, "The Argent Crusade fought bravely and successfully broke through without suffering any losses."
Everyone present knew that the Scourge was selectively targeting the Orcs.
Garrosh was furious. He kicked Tirion Fordring away and beat him until his head was swollen and blackened. Tirion Fordring could only howl and beg for mercy.
Sylvanas sat down and said in a skeptical tone:
"The Horde has been conducting a series of military operations in Northrend for a long time, and the Scourge has never launched a direct attack except for some underhanded tactics. Why did they suddenly launch a sneak attack on us this time? I suspect there must be a reason behind it."
Vol'jin immediately understood Sylvanas's intention and chuckled coldly, "It must be that one of us carelessly crossed the Scourge's line."
Eitrigg understood immediately, his eyes widening as he questioned, "Garrosh, I heard you captured King Varian and intend to turn the Alliance into a meat storehouse for the Orcs."
Garrosh was indignant, snorted coldly, and kicked Tirion Fordring hard.
"What? What did I do wrong? This is all for Azeroth. Besides, hasn't Tirion Fordring always done this kind of thing? Aren't the hundreds of thousands of Argent Crusade all Orcs provisions?"
Dranosh was furious, his anger blazing. "So, you used Alliance soldiers as food, yet you dragged my army down with you and caused its destruction by the Scourge! It's all your doing!"
Just as the group was arguing, a flash of light appeared, and a human was teleported in front of them.
Varian looked up and saw several ferocious Orcs. He was terrified and quickly hid next to Rhonin. Rhonin knew what to do and silently Blink into a corner.
Upon seeing Varian and recalling the annihilation of his 30,000-strong army, Garrosh instantly lost his mind and entered a berserk state, opening his blood-red maw and biting down on Varian's throat.
Varian hurriedly dodged, only to be bitten on the shoulder. Garrosh tore off a large chunk of flesh, causing Varian to scream in pain.
"You destroyed my army, I will devour you."
Garrosh lunged forward again, ready to tear King Varian to pieces.
A cold wind blew by, and Garrosh felt as if an invisible hand had grabbed the back of his neck, suddenly floating in mid-air, his limbs struggling.
The Emissary of the Moon Goddess walked in with a gloomy expression, and the people present hurriedly bowed.
"I know everything that happened tonight, Garrosh Hellscream. It's all your fault. Apologize to King Varian."
Garrosh fell to the ground with a thud, immediately stood up, and said defiantly:
Why should I apologize to a lowly human King?
The Emissary frowned and said solemnly:
"The Alliance and the Horde joined forces against the Scourge. This was a policy that the Moon Goddess had planned long ago, but you ruined it all. If the Scourge hadn't been concerned about the Alliance's attitude, you would have been wiped out long ago."
The Emissary King Varian to his feet and treated his injuries, saying politely:
"Your King, you have suffered. This is all due to Emissary dereliction of duty. Rest assured, I will avenge you. Those who have made mistakes must be punished so that everyone can learn from this."
The Emissary turned to Rhonin and instructed, "Rhonin, leader of Dalaran, I need a fine horse and an excellent rider."
Rhonin was unaware of the Emissary's intentions and dared not ask further. He simply nodded in agreement. Before long, a Mage Apprentice skilled in riding brought over a fine horse.
The Emissary seized Garrosh, a rope tied to his fangs, the other end to his saddle. The Emissary the rider the command:
"Run as fast as you can along the streets of Dalaran for an hour straight, then come back to me."
Upon hearing this, Garrosh was terrified and pleaded in a low voice, "Emissary, I know I was wrong. Please forgive my mistake this time. I will never dare to do it again."
The Emissary smiled slightly, "Garrosh, you've forgotten your place. This is merely a small lesson. I will use magic to protect your head and ensure you don't die."
Vol'jin and the others were quite frightened upon seeing this. Sylvanas glanced at Tirion Fordring, her expression slightly tense, as if she had remembered something.
Amidst cries of agony and pleas for mercy, the horse galloped at full speed.
Rhonin ordered some fine tea to be served, which the Emissary messenger leisurely sipped. Dalaran was not large, Garrosh's terrifying roars echoed continuously.
After a long while, Garrosh was too weak to roar, but soon came the shrieking of souls.
Everyone's expression changed; this kind of pain was not only physical but also tormenting to the soul.
Physical pain is finite, but the pain of the soul is infinite.
An hour later, Garrosh was reduced to only his head and half a spine.