Growing up?
Perhaps.
As the foundation of the Two Aspects Realm, the fragments of T'uure are needed to achieve perfection. This requires collecting more fragments until T'uure T'uure reconstructed, reaching the pinnacle of the High-tier Demigod realm.
At least until the " Martial Arts Myth " is reached, there is no way to escape T'uure and Naaru.
For a period of time, his fate was inextricably linked with Naaru's.
"When will the other T'uure fragments arrive?" Jiang Jie sensed the changes in the Taiji Two Aspects within his body and felt calm.
His strength has been further enhanced, which will be of great help in the upcoming operations.
Outland is not his battlefield; the four Elemental Plane are, Helheim is, Ulduar is, the Tomb of Sargeras is, Argus is.
The entire universe is.
He needs much greater power; what he has now is far from enough.
"At the latest, a year," A'dal replied.
"Great Naru Adar, I have heard your name. Your path of light has always guided us, leading us to our home in our confusion."
Velen walked over and faced A'dal with utmost respect.
He has lived for tens of thousands of years.
Nourished by the Holy Light for tens of thousands of years, he has been transformed into another kind of being, a "half- Holy Light- transformed" being, elevated to the status of Demigod, and qualified to stand alongside ordinary Naaru.
But before the Prime Naaru, he still only had the right to bow respectfully.
He has lived for tens of thousands of years, but these Prime Naaru, who were born at the beginning of the order of light and darkness, have lived for countless billions of years. They have no right to compare themselves to him.
Perhaps the Naaru's fighting strength is really not that strong.
But at his level, evaluating the greatness and power of an existence cannot focus solely on actual combat strength; it also involves knowledge, wisdom, experience, and much more.
" Velen, the Holy Light is guiding you."
A'dal addressed the prophet of the Holy Light with a calm voice. "By upholding the Way of the Holy Light in your heart, you may go further than we have."
"I will follow your guidance, great Naru'adar." Velen bowed again.
The Holy Light Hall was bustling with activity.
Many people gathered together, and it was a lively occasion for old friends to reunite.
Archmage Khadgar had short, grayish-white hair and looked very energetic.
He's actually not that old, around forty at most, not much older Rhonin, but he's already been Legendary for many years.
Years ago, when he risked closing the Dark Portal, he was banished to the Twisting Nether by the torn void, but miraculously survived. He lived for many years, and then, by some unknown method, he contacted the Naaru A'dal, was rescued by A'dal, and came here.
He didn't waste those years in the Twisting Nether; his strength increased even further.
He studied under A'dal for many more years, and his strength increased once again.
Jiang Jie could clearly sense the energy fluctuations emanating from Khadgar, which had actually reached the High-tier Legendary level, almost on par with Krasus and Kael'thas.
That's amazing.
After A'dal recaptured Shattrath, this was probably the first time he had met the invited Kurdran Wildhammer and Danath Trollbane. The three of them had endless things to talk about.
Soon, Admiral Daelin and Highlord Falstad also came over.
Admiral Daelin's eyes were filled with cloudy tears.
A hero sheds tears; a sight rarely seen in ten years.
Highlord Falstad then solemnly approached Kurdran and bowed respectfully.
A young Half-Elf Paladin stood alone in a corner, surrounded by several High Elf from Alleria Stronghold.
Not many people paid attention to him, except for one person.
Uther walked over, his voice trembling slightly. "You are... Arator Turalyon and Alleria's child?"
"Redeemer" Arator, this young Paladin, inherited his father's Way of the Holy Light and his mother's wisdom. Before he was even twenty years old, he was already a high-ranking knight, and his advancement speed was no slower than Arthas'.
He looked at the dignified and strong old knight before him.
Sensing the almost boundless Holy Light emanating from him, he tentatively asked, "Are you... Uncle Uther?" "It's me, poor child!"
Uther stepped forward and pulled Arator into his arms. "Child, poor child!"
Tears were everywhere, and so was warmth.
Amidst weeping, there was also bursts of laughter.
"You are... Garrosh? My child?"
A low growl, like a sob, caught Jiang Jie's attention.
In a corner of the Holy Light Hall, the heroic Grom Hellscream, his face streaked with tears, stared at the young Orcs not far away. His hands trembled uncontrollably, and his ever-present " Gorehowl " fell to the ground, but he paid it no heed.
Even the most precious battle axe is no match for his child.
Who says Orcs lack compassion?
This old hero, a rare sight in the entire history of the Orcs, has been missing his child for 20 years.
From longing to despair, and then to numbness.
He didn't even know what Draenor was like now, whether his child was still alive, or whether any Orcs were still alive on Draenor.
So when he heard that there were still many Orcs in Draenor, he was the first to approach Thrall, asking him to agree to negotiations and to go with him to Shattrath.
Today, his wish came true, and he aged ten years in an instant.
"Father... I thought... you were a sinner..." Garrosh was still an honest, even somewhat cowardly and self-conscious young Orcs. Looking at his father, he couldn't hide his excitement and inferiority.
"No, your father was a hero of the Orcs. He made mistakes, but he personally ended Mannoroth and saved the entire race. Garrosh, my brother, you should be proud of your father!"
Thrall stepped forward, his voice booming.
Then he knelt respectfully before an elderly female Orcs beside Garrosh, his voice low and deep. "Grandmother Geyah."
This old Orcs was the oldest surviving Orcs in Draenor, Thrall's grandmother, Durotan's mother, the old Shaman of the Frostwolf Clan, and the founder of the Mag'har Orcs.
She looked at the young Orcs Warchief before her, her only surviving relative, and her voice trembled slightly. "Child, your name is Go'el..."
Another young Orcs stood on the other side of Geyah's grandmother.
He searched through the crowd but couldn't find the figure he had long forgotten, and an undisguised disappointment appeared on his face.
" Dranosh, my brother."
Thrall looked at him apologetically. "Your father, Varok Saurfang, is responsible for guarding Orgrimmar, the Orcs's capital city on Azeroth. He asked me to tell you: he's waiting for you in Orgrimmar."
Human kindness exists everywhere.
But reality is always so cruel.
A group of Demon Hunter approached from a distance and entered Shattrath.
"Isn't this scene exciting?"
Illidan glanced at Malfurion, but didn't see Tyrande. His eyes dimmed, and his voice grew even colder. "If you've finished talking, I think we can begin negotiations!"
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