Mogu Invasion

"Are all your banquets like this?" Nathanos asked helplessly. Old Wu did not answer. He had already fallen asleep, snoring with an empty wine cup still in his hand. The Witherer thought that if he woke up and found the cup empty, he would probably be very disappointed.

Since Old Wu had said it was fine, Nathanos gave up on trying to stop the chaos.

Hollow wooden wine cups flew through the air like fuses, setting off fight after fight. Those who had drunk too much charged in without a second thought to teach others a lesson. Those who still retained their senses wore frightened expressions, afraid of being caught in the crossfire.

Anger and fear—everyone wore a different mask of expression, and some even switched back and forth between the two.

Why had the Sha not appeared? Nathanos wanted to know. He drank as well, hoping the wine would give him an answer. Unfortunately, he could not get drunk. The liquid in his mouth could only stimulate his tongue.

Among the crowd, Nathanos spotted a peculiar figure. Most people had their eyes on the wine, but one Pandaren was an exception. Dressed in apprentice robes, he sat at his seat, stuffing himself with food. What impressed Nathanos was not his appetite, but how he insisted on cramming his mouth full before he began chewing, then washing it down with a gulp of wine.

His fellow disciples on either side of him were noisily arguing, yet he looked as though he had not noticed anything happening around him. Whenever the food in front of him ran out, he would reach over to someone else's dishes. Not to steal a bite, but to move the entire plate in front of himself.

Nathanos was intrigued. He rose and approached the Pandaren, carefully