I, a Troll, Am Here to Save You

As the ship sailed back toward Zul'Aman, Zul'ra spent his time not only distributing rings and swearing oaths but also diligently conversing with his fellow alumni. He recounted the history of Zul'Aman to them, easing the loneliness of the sea voyage while simultaneously winning their hearts.

Every student in Zandalar had received a certain degree of historical education, though it was naturally laced with personal agendas. Suddenly leaving that glorious golden kingdom to return to the dilapidated and impoverished Zul'Aman left a trace of doubt and confusion in the heart of every individual.

Zul'ra helped his fellow alumni resolve the doubts and confusion in their hearts, gathered their loyalty, and left a favorable impression upon them, laying the groundwork for the path ahead.

The ship followed its course, but a minor accident occurred along the way. In the early hours of the morning, just before reaching Booty Bay in the South Sea, they encountered an unexpected situation: the sound of cannon fire echoed across the water.

Amidst the splashing of the morning waves, the abrupt sound of cannons shattered the silence of meditation. Zul'ra left his mental world and rushed to the deck, only to see several Troll sailors staring intently at the distant sea.

The sky over the sea was dim in the early morning, and the visibility was poor. Zul'ra looked far into the distance, following the sailors' gazes, and saw orange-red flames flickering on the pitch-black surface of the sea, accompanied by the thunderous roars of artillery.

It is the light of cannon fire. Zul'ra watched the flickering flames on the dark sea, instantly associating them with the discharge of cannons. But the naval war between the Horde and the Alliance should have already ended; who were these people fighting?

The distant orange-red glow did not last long. When the rumbling ceased, the sea returned to silence and darkness. Because dawn was approaching, the lights on Zul'ra's ship had already been extinguished, so they had not been discovered by the combatants. He did not know who the two sides were, nor did he know who had won or lost, or if the victor had already departed.

"What should we do?" Zul'ra pulled a nearby Troll sailor aside and asked.

"We are just fishermen; we do not know," the Troll sailor shook his head, looking somewhat helpless.

"Can we bypass this sea area?" Zul'ra felt a headache coming on. The ship he was taking this time was not a Golden Warship of Zandalar, but a tattered sailing ship from Zul'Aman. Not only was it incapable of combat, but the sailors were also mere bumpkins who only knew how to fish.

"What happened?" Malacrass's voice came from the cabin.

"We cannot bypass it. If we deviate from our course, we will be drifting at sea for several more days. The fresh water and vegetables on board are already running low; we must reach Booty Bay to resupply." The Troll sailor glanced in the direction of Malacrass's voice and replied cautiously to Zul'ra.

"Then we can only pray that the combatants have already left and hope we are not discovered." Zul'ra watched the sea area drawing closer and couldn't help but grit his teeth, then took the gemstone ring hanging around his neck and held it in his hand.

"What on earth happened?" Malacrass walked out from inside the ship and, seeing Zul'ra on the deck, stepped forward to ask.

"In the sea area ahead, we encountered an unknown battle. I don't know if those people have left, but we must pass through there." Zul'ra looked at the man who had arrived and briefly explained the situation.

"Can we bypass that sea area?" Malacrass's expression shifted slightly.

"The supplies on the ship are running low," Zul'ra twitched his tusks.

"Wake everyone up." Malacrass looked at the sea area they were constantly approaching and let out a roar, waking everyone on the ship. No matter what they encountered next, being awake was better than being asleep.

Just as Malacrass stirred everyone awake, the ship entered the sea area. The sky began to brighten. Zul'ra looked at the broken wooden planks floating beneath the ship and the situation on the distant sea, then scanned his surroundings and felt a great sense of relief.

"We are quite lucky." Zul'ra looked at the scene on the sea and felt his heart ease slightly. He loosened his grip on the ring he had been prepared to put on his finger at any moment. On the vast, empty sea, apart from broken planks and some scattered shipwrecks, there were no enemy vessels left to threaten them.

"It looks like they lost quite badly." Malacrass looked at the sinking ships in the distance, twitched his nose, and observed the scene while letting out a long sigh of relief.

"The victor left very quickly. Can you recognize whose ships those belong to?" Zul'ra watched the drifting, sinking wreckage, his eyes flickering slightly. One side had been defeated and was sinking miserably, while the victor had departed cleanly. This was his good fortune; if the victor had lingered here, he feared he and his people would have been in trouble.

"It seems they belong to the Goblins. That flag with two crossed wrenches is the emblem of the Bilgewater Cartel." Malacrass looked carefully at the flags of the sinking ships in the distance. After a careful examination, his eyes flashed, and his expression turned to one of shock.

"Goblins of the Bilgewater Cartel?" Zul'ra looked at the shocked man, slightly stunned. This fleet that had been sunk was the Bilgewater Cartel—Gallywix's fleet?

"Yes, I cannot be mistaken. That is the mark of the Bilgewater Cartel. The Horde once traded with them—a bunch of greedy green-skinned runts. I remember that besides selling us weapons, they also sold supplies to the Alliance. I wonder who defeated them!" Malacrass felt both contempt and a touch of schadenfreude.

"Look, there are survivors there. Should we save them?" Zul'ra listened to Malacrass's words and suddenly saw a moving figure on a sampan on the distant sea.

"In the eyes of those greedy fellows, they see nothing but gold coins." Malacrass looked in the direction of Zul'ra's finger and shook his head slightly; this rescue would yield no reward.

"Hey, hey, kind passersby, please come and save us."

"Save us!"

"Kind souls."

"Please come and save me." Cries for help came from scattered points across the sea.

"Save them! We don't need them to remember our kindness. It might be good to find out exactly what happened in the naval battle just now and ask for the latest intelligence on the Alliance. Those Goblins are always very well-informed!" Zul'ra looked at the voices calling for help and, while feeling a bit of reluctance, suggested it to Malacrass.

"After we get the information, take them to Booty Bay and dump them there. We don't need to, and shouldn't, worry about anything else!"

"I hope they can provide some useful intelligence!" Malacrass looked at Zul'ra, pondered for a moment, and nodded. These Goblins might be very greedy, but perhaps they could extract some information from them.

With an agreement reached, Malacrass ordered the ship to pause and began fishing the fallen Goblins out of the water. Those green-skinned runts initially showed joy when they saw the rescue ship, but upon seeing the green-skinned Trolls on board, they all felt the urge to jump back into the water. Although they suppressed this impulse, their green faces turned an even darker shade of green.