Hiding Place

Night had fallen, and most of his people were fast asleep. Only he and the guards outside remained active. Thrall should have been asleep by now, but ever since Broxigar left, he had been worried about his safety and had been unable to sleep at night.

The torchlight in the distance flickered, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Thrall initially paid no attention to the shadows, but then suddenly noticed another shadow stretching and moving, covering his face.

The Warchief jumped up from his stone throne. "Who is it?"

This was definitely not the shadow of Orcs or any other Horde member. His physique was neither as strong as Orcs nor as tall as Troll, and it goes without saying whether he Tauren or not.

Could he be an assassin? The Horde has many enemies, many who want to assassinate him, and this person in front of him might very well be doing so. Thrall couldn't see what the other person looked like, but those crimson eyes suggested he wasn't a Scourge Undead, but rather an evil person who abused forbidden magic.

The man dragged his feet and walked slowly forward, without revealing his true appearance.

"Has the man enslaved by Durnholde back then become the Great Chief? Amazing, Thrall!" the intruder called out in a strange voice. "Greetings, Great Chief of the Horde!"

"Who are you? What is your purpose?" Thrall roared, the chieftain trying to make a commotion to attract the guards' attention, but he waited for a long time without hearing the footsteps of the Kor'kron guards.

"Your guards are 'asleep,' but don't be alarmed. I didn't do anything to them, and I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to tell you some news... news about Broxigar Saurfang."

"Broxigar? How is he? Tell me quickly!"

A battle axe slid out of the shadows, reeking of Demon Blood —a scent Thrall was all too familiar with.

"He has already sacrificed himself... but before that, he annihilated countless enemies! He repelled the Burning Legion's invasion; it would take a whole day to count all the enemies he killed! He..."

The figure in the shadows shook his head, and Thrall seemed to understand; this person was the witness to everything.

"No more demons will appear! Broxigar and the warriors who fought alongside him defeated the Burning Legion, and your hero faced Sargeras, the leader of the Burning Legion, without fear!" After saying this, the man bowed his head in reverence. "He saved the world!"

Thrall stood there silently for a long time, then asked, "Is what you said true? You're not lying to me?"

"Yes, this is his weapon."

"I have never seen it before."

"This weapon was made for Broxigar; he wielded it and wounded the Dark Titan."

"We'll find a place to store it," Thrall said softly, respectfully picking up the battle axe from the ground. He looked at it with awe. The axe was as light as a feather, made entirely of wood, but clearly an exceptionally sharp weapon. "How did you know all this..."

The figure did not answer. Thrall looked up and found that he was no longer there.

The Warchief snorted and rushed out the door. He instinctively gripped the axe in his hand, then suddenly became alert, thinking that this might be a vicious plot to eliminate him.

Outside the Horde's main fortress, he saw all the Kor'kron guards stationed there lying on the ground, snoring loudly. They must have been under some kind of Sleep Magic, but Thrall didn't care about that right now.

Where is he? Where did that guy go?

"There's no one else outside!" Thrall let out a confused growl as he walked past the two Kor'kron guards. He hurried to the clearing. A full moon hung in the sky, illuminating the surroundings. Thrall had always believed that the full moon in the Valley of Wisdom was the most radiant, but the Orcs chieftain still saw nothing.

When he glanced at the moon unintentionally, he finally saw it.

He saw a huge figure flapping its wings, about to disappear into the darkness.

It's a giant dragon!!! The Air Elemental told the young chieftain that there was also an Undead behind the dragon.

Nathanos closed his eyes; Malygos's speed was just right, the wind brushing against the Undead's face was very comfortable. He carried Broxigar's relics back to his homeland.

Now he can finally go home, not to rest, but to start another war!

The Eastern Plaguelands. Unlike other places, Darrowshire, though desolate, is devoid of Scourge minion or Crimson Crusade, as its geographical location offers little strategic value. For the Scourge, there is no fresh flesh; for the Crusaders, there are no Undead creatures—at least, after several patrols, nothing has been found.

However, for those who want to avoid the aforementioned two sides, this is an excellent hiding place.

The Dark Ranger Veronalara stood guard on a mountain peak on the west side of Darrowshire. She had to keep a close watch on the situation from Stratholme in the north and Haven County in the east, as neither Kel'Thuzad's forces nor the Crimson Crusade would let them get away.

When the moon reaches its highest point, it means it's time for someone else to take over her position.

A soft footstep came from behind. The Dark Ranger turned around and saw a figure as slender and frail as himself.

"Veronalara, is something wrong?"

The same question would be asked by Enya every night like this, but Veronalara never got tired of it. She would answer her sister's question by shaking her head and respond with a smile to reassure her.

"Has everyone else come out and about?"

Enya hesitated for a second, her expression stiffening slightly. "The situation is a bit... complicated."

Veronalara's smile vanished. What does it mean that the situation is complicated? Has someone gone missing?

"Don't worry, everyone is fine," Enya quickly added. "It's just that they don't seem to want to come out; they prefer to stay in dark corners."

"I'll go take a look."

Veronalara walked past Enya, entrusting Enya with the important task of keeping watch; she had to persuade those like her.

The Dark Ranger first arrived at a relatively well-preserved wooden cabin. It was an inn, including a wine cellar, with three floors. The few remaining tables and chairs were unkempt, covered in dust, and askew. The more chaotic the place, the more it gave others the impression that it was abandoned and deserted.

"It's time to get out and about; we can't hide away all day long."

Her eyes swept across the area, but at first there was no movement. Then a head peeked out from the corner of the stairs; a figure appeared behind the stove in the kitchen; the wardrobe was pushed open from the inside, and the lid of a wine barrel in the cellar fell to the ground... More than a dozen Undead slowly appeared in Veronalara's sight.

This is the first place where survivors are hidden...