Sal's performance made Wojin extremely worried.
Indeed, Sal was very talented as a leader.
Before the talent was transformed into an ability, it was just an ability that had not yet been fulfilled.
If the commander of the Alliance was not this powerful young mage who claimed to be twenty-nine years old but looked like an eighteen year old, perhaps Sal would have enough room and time to grow.
However, looking at Duque, Wojin instantly felt the gap between the two leaders of the Alliance and the Horde.
Whether it was personal strength, charm, courage, or temperament, Duque was nine streets ahead of the fifteen-year-old Sal.
Not every leader had the courage to come alone to the middle of what was once the enemy's formation. After all, they were once enemies, and anything could happen.
Duke showed up, showing off his courage and insight without any scruples, as well as the strong magical aura around him that was like the sun.
If it were an ordinary High Elf Mage, Wo Jin would have at least 70% confidence in killing him with his Whirlwind Blade that had been strengthened by Troll Witchcraft.
Duque …
From the moment he appeared, Wojin had an intuition that not only he and Sal, but all the Orc guards around them were locked by some unknown mysterious power. As long as they acted rashly, what awaited them would be a thunderous blow that would kill them.
This was not an illusion. Rexxar seemed to be staring at the side, but his forehead was sweating.
Varrock and Brock were both unusually nervous.
Only Sal, his intuition sensed something else – Duque had no malicious intentions, at least not now, and Duque had a way to solve the problem.
He still remembered what Orgrim had said before his death: "Duke Marcus is the most terrifying enemy. You will never know whether or not you are dancing in the palm of his hand even if you plan a two-step, three-step, or even ten-step scheme."
Orgrim also said, "But he is also a kind and abides by a certain creed."
At that time, Sal asked why he said that.
Orgrim replied: "I am, or at least alive. That is an example. He had a thousand ways to kill me and Rexxar after I was captured. But he gave up. So, if I had a choice, I would want to be friends with him, not enemies. "
Thinking of this, Sal's heart quickly calmed down.
His performance made Woking secretly happy.
Duque glanced at Sal and said, "Don't worry. The Burning Legion that once dominated you Beastmen, their commander Archimonde is on the way to Kalimdor. On behalf of the Alliance, I can promise the Horde that before we kill Archerons, the Alliance will not take the initiative to declare war on the Horde. "
For some reason, even though he didn't want to show it, the moment Duque made the promise, not only Thrall, but the powerhouses like Wojin, Rexxar, Brock, and Varok all heaved a sigh of relief.
Sal said, "Alright, for the sake of a common enemy. During this period of time, the Horde wouldn't start a war with the Alliance. Duke Marcus, you have the promise of the current Tribal Chief! "
A huge green fist gently bumped into a seemingly small human male fist in mid-air.
Sal turned his head. "Alright, now let's discuss, this …"
"He can't be considered our common enemy." Duque refuted Sal and looked at the huge remains at the scene.
It could be seen that this was a very powerful creature when it was alive.
His upper body was like a night elf, but his lower body was like a stag. He was more than three meters tall and was supported by four hoofed legs. His turbid eyes were golden, and his moss-like long hair fell straight to his shoulders. There were leaves and twigs on his hair and beard. There were also two large and prominent antlers on his head, which made his more than three meters tall body even taller.
But he was now dead.
The clear axe marks on his body and the ominous energy that was full of a crazy bloody aura around the wound told everyone who the murderer was.
Grom Hell's Roar!
"Who is he?" Sal asked a question he had wanted to ask for a long time.
Beastmen were typical outsiders, and it was Wojin's first time coming to Kalimdor. As for the history of Kalimdor, the Horde could only be confused.
Duque sighed. "What if I told you that Grom, who had fallen into a state of madness, actually killed Cenarius, the forest demigod worshipped by the night elves and many tauren druids? What would you do?"
"Sss-" Sal took a deep breath.
He could not imagine how the Horde's new friends, the tauren race, would treat them.
Cenarius, the demigod, had lived since the ancient times, and since the beginning of the ancient war, he had been working hard to restore the damage to the earth. He constantly used his demigod power to create forests and amber, and was also the nature demigod worshipped by the night elves and tauren.
Ten thousand years ago, when the high elves of Azshara opened the gate to Azeroth for the Burning Legion, Cenarius gathered the ancient guardian wild boar Agamagan, the bear brothers Usor and Usok, the white deer Malorne, the storm crow Arvina and other immortals to fight against the Burning Legion's Doomguards, Demon Guards and Eredar Wizards. Most of the ancient guardians died, and Cenarius survived under the protection of his father, the white deer.
However, he was targeted by the Lord of the Abyss, Mannoroth, who wanted to take revenge on Cenarius for the failure of the first invasion.
So he died.
More accurately, he died because of the demons' schemes.
The Orcs' need to build houses and cities led to the Orcs cutting trees in the mountains, which easily angered the night elves. The night elves used their unparalleled forest warfare to force the Warsong Orcs into a corner. At this time, Mannoroth only needed to secretly lead the Orcs to a spring that had dripped a drop of his high-tier demon blood.
In order to survive, Grom and his tribesmen easily drank the demon blood again and became berserk fel orcs.
Then, the tragedy happened naturally.
Sal could totally imagine how angry and crazy the night elves would be when their demigod was killed. Even if the night elves were as strong as the high elves, their counterattack was not something that the tribe with only a hundred thousand people could withstand.
At this time, an ethereal voice that Duque did not expect sounded in the air. "Young chief, don't worry too much. As long as you can find the real murderer, the Lord of the Abyss Mannoroth, and kill him. The night elves will forgive you. Moreover, all of your races now have a bigger and more terrifying common enemy — the commander of the Burning Legion, Archimonde! "
Sal and Duque were speechless at the same time.
"Prophet!?"
"Medivh!?"
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