May My Fellow Daoist Die, Not This Poor Monk

Relying on his body's potent resistance to toxins, Zul'ra escaped Nazmir and returned safely to Zuldazar. The first thing he did thereafter was to enter a deep state of meditation, clearing his mind of distractions while seeking the root cause of their proliferation.

The meditation process went smoothly. Zul'ra sorted through the scattered thoughts in his mind, feeling the surging vitality within his body accompany his breathing. It was as if he were bathing in cool water during the dog days of summer; his spirit entered a space beyond verbal description, filled with incomparable tranquility and joy.

His body felt ethereal. With a mere flicker of his intent, Zul'ra could sense his heart beating within his chest. The frequency and size of those beats, along with the distribution of his blood vessels, appeared clearly in his mind's eye. He only needed to shift his focus to follow those vessels and perceive every organ and every vein within his body.

This is internal vision, but I don't need this right now... As Zul'ra sensed his body, he felt a moment of bewilderment. The thought had barely surfaced when his consciousness suddenly detached from his physical form, as if his soul had left his body. However, the world that met his eyes left him shocked.

The sun in the sky was blood-red, appearing like a mass of writhing flesh. Zul'ra gazed at the desolate, barren land, feeling both terrified and confused. He should have been in Zuldazar; how did he end up here? Where was this place?

"Tian Sang." A familiar call came from the side. Zul'ra turned his head to see a hill standing silently in the desolate, quiet, blood-colored world. He must be having auditory hallucinations again; why would someone be calling his name in Chinese?

"Come! Come here, come to my side. I am waiting for you here, come quickly!" Just as Zul'ra assumed it was a hallucination, the voice came again, still in familiar Chinese, carrying a seductive tone that made one want to follow the sound.

"Come quickly, come!"

"Not going." Zul'ra, or perhaps Tian Sang, listened to the familiar words and the temptation laced within them, and resolutely shook his head. He didn't know who the owner of this voice was, but using Chinese to lure him was a trick he wouldn't fall for.

"Don't you want to know who I am?" Seeing that Tian Sang was not falling for it, the voice shifted to a question, attempting to pique his curiosity.

"When I am meant to know, I will naturally know." Zul'ra raised an eyebrow. Was he the type of person to be governed by curiosity?

"Then don't you want to return to Earth?" The voice posed another question.

"I do, but it's useless. I am a troll now; if I go back, I'll only be captured and sliced up for study." Zul'ra shook his head directly. What would be his fate if he returned now?

"Although you are a troll now, you possess power. Power can achieve anything. Think about it: if you return to Earth, you could use Voodoo Magic to control national leaders, those female celebrities, those campus beauties, and..." The voice began to coax him step by step.

"You're quite impressive! To be able to peek at so many fragments from my thoughts, but this kind of plot is long outdated." Zul'ra listened to the voice and stopped his own disdainful thoughts. This voice could capture his intent, making it stronger than Ulathek and G'hnir, but this thing didn't understand what Earth was like, and neither did he.

"Can't you be tempted even a little? You make me feel very unaccomplished." The voice shifted to a tone of frustration.

"Hmph." Hearing the frustrated tone, Zul'ra couldn't help but let out a soft snort, revealing a hint of smugness.

"How about we make a deal?" The owner of the voice perfectly caught that trace of smugness, letting its frustrated tone reveal a sense of helplessness.

"Speak!" Zul'ra cut off his own smug thoughts.

"I am called G'huun, the former master of this land, until..."

"Hello Old God, goodbye Old God." Hearing the voice's self-introduction, Zul'ra's eyebrows twitched. With a light shift of his intent, he instantly left the desolate mental space and returned to his body. At the same time, in the underground ruins of Nazmir, a roar shook the prison, yet it was helpless to do anything else.

"Ugh, refreshing!" Zul'ra stretched his body, which had regained its lightness, causing his bones to crackle. At the same time, he suddenly realized the truth: those Blood Trolls had been lured by an Old God. The source of Blood Magic was the power of an Old God, which explained why it was so twisted.

"To think that Zandalar has this kind of thing underground, damn it, that's a pitfall. Didn't they say there were only five Old Gods?" After stretching, Zul'ra complained to the game company's writers while feeling a bit fortunate, thanking the game's balancing mechanics.

If there were no balancing mechanics, that G'huun would surely not have been locked in a prison built by the Titans. If it hadn't been locked in a Titan prison, the Blood Trolls wouldn't just be hiding in Nazmir right now, relying on its power.

"The world is dangerous! Should I warn Zandalar that there is an Old God behind the Blood Trolls? Forget it, mentioning it probably won't do any good." Zul'ra thought about the threat the Blood Trolls posed to Zandalar, but he also dismissed the idea of warning them. It wasn't that he lacked a conscience, but rather that his words carried no weight.

Although Zul'ra had become a Witch Doctor in Zandalar and seemed to be part of the high caste, in the eyes of power-holders like Rastakhan, he was just a free auditing student living under someone else's roof. If he ran to Rastakhan and said the Blood Trolls were supported by an Old God and threatened Zandalar, wouldn't that be ridiculous?

The Blood Trolls hadn't been in Nazmir for just a day or two. Zandalar had been wary of them for a long time, but had been slow to act, likely due to internal issues that had dragged the situation out until now. If he went to warn them, who knew what would happen? Besides, having them pose a threat wasn't entirely without benefits for him.

Having spent over three years in Azeroth, Zul'ra had already calculated his path using his foresight of the plot. To survive in this dangerous world, he had to maintain a balance to improve himself. He couldn't limit his gaze to one tribe or one place, nor could he risk his life casually; he must never fight to the death until the very last moment.

As long as the green hills remain, there will be firewood to burn. Even if Azeroth were to be destroyed tomorrow, other worlds like Draenor should exist in this universe. At worst, he would just keep running. There would eventually come a day when the Burning Legion and the Old Gods could be defeated. Zul'ra had now learned to face the mountain of problems in Azeroth: just keep a low profile!

After sorting through his thoughts, Zul'ra began to organize his knowledge, making plans to seek balance and self-improvement. As for G'huun, as long as that guy didn't cause trouble, he would leave it aside. He would deal with it later when he had the strength, or when the disaster erupted.

In any case, at this stage, he lacked the strength to deal with it, and when G'huun erupted, it wouldn't directly harm him. Future eruptions would be handled by the Alliance and the Horde. As long as it didn't erupt in the near future, Zul'ra thought to himself. Though it was a bit heartless, he was truly powerless.