Zandalar's Way Forward

Inside the Hall of Glory, Zul'ra Jin sat in a stone chair with one elbow propped on the armrest and his cheek resting in his palm, looking utterly unconcerned. Cook hesitated, but he did not dare delay.

"Prophet Zul showed us a future."

"What kind of future? Dragons devouring the world, or trolls rising again?" Zul'ra showed no reaction. What prophecy could that old fraud, always putting on airs, possibly reveal?

"Both." Maki shrank his neck slightly. Zul'ra had guessed it all.

"Oh? And how did you react? Were you looking forward to it, or were you happy?" Zul'ra glanced at Maki and asked blandly.

"This is an opportunity, Zul'ra Jin!" Cook could not help saying.

"An opportunity?" Zul'ra turned his gaze toward Cook, whom he had kept by his side since the man was young. This fellow was not as composed as Maki. He really was still too young.

"Yes, an opportunity to destroy the Alliance. We can join forces with Zandalar. That way, the Alliance will absolutely be no match for us, while Zandalar will bleed to death in its battle against the Alliance." Cook presented his whimsical idea with an utterly confident expression.

Faced with Cook's wildly imaginative proposal, a stifled, absurd laugh burst from Zul'ra's nose. He was laughing at himself. He had thought the boy was merely young, but this fellow had far exceeded his expectations.

"Tell me, do you truly mean that?" Zul'ra suppressed his laughter and asked Cook. He wanted to know whether those were truly Cook's feelings.

Let Zandalar bleed to death in its war with the Alliance—Zul'ra felt that Cook had another half to his words: let the Horde's other races die the same way. He did not know whether that was Cook's true intention.

If it was, then Cook was