As they ventured deeper into Sunwell Plateau, more and more corpses came into view, and the ranks of the dead grew ever higher.
Among them was even a Silvermoon Councilor—one of the few who stood at the pinnacle of this nation's power and strength. Yet he had died pointlessly in his own stronghold, felled by the betrayal of his own people.
The elves' anger could not help but grow, while the chilling feeling in their hearts became ever more pronounced.
Judging from the traces left behind, there had been only one killer. And from the method used, the culprit was neither a professional warrior nor an assassin, but most likely a mage.
For a High Elf to slaughter so many former colleagues and superiors without hesitation, the killer had to be utterly insane.
Sylvanas had once mocked humanity for producing such a fallen prince, one who had not hesitated to turn his own homeland into a kingdom of the dead. Now, it seemed the High Elves were no better in that regard.
Their pace quickened. At last, just as they were about to reach the Sunwell, other voices finally echoed through a deathly silent, spacious corridor.
It was the clash of metal, mixed with the angry shouts of High Elves. Clearly, a battle was taking place nearby.
"Could the troops guarding the Sunwell still be fighting?"
At that thought, everyone's spirits soared, and they sped up even further.
As if emerging from darkness into light, once they crossed the vast and splendid corridor, Ye Ting beheld a resplendent plaza. At its center stood a magnificent pool. It was not especially large, only a few meters across, yet even the most ordinary mortal could see what immense power lay within its dazzling waters—the energy burned as fiercely as the sun itself,