Arthas let out a breath, and on a warhorse behind him, there was a Night Elf.
"Lista?"
A Sentinel familiar with this Elf recognized the Sentinel Captain who had participated in the Ashenvale campaign but disappeared during the retreat—Lista Dawnrain.
Tyrande looked at the unharmed Elf Sentinel, her expression softening slightly, and she cast her gaze upon Arthas, seemingly expecting him to provide a satisfactory explanation.
However, it wasn't Arthas who spoke, but Captain Dawnrain; she dismounted from the warhorse and came before the Priestess and the Arch Druid, bowing her head and saying, "Priestess, what this human said... is indeed true; he personally slew a Nathrezim."
Upon hearing that lengthy word, Tyrande's gaze instantly became complex, unsure if it was shock or disbelief; she was speechless for a few seconds, seemingly organizing her thoughts.
"Are you sure? Lista?"
"I saw it with my own eyes; I will never forget the Nathrezim's hideous head for as long as I live." Lista still kept her head down, but her voice was incredibly firm.
Tyrande turned her head and exchanged a look with Malfurion; Malfurion nodded slightly, and Tyrande understood his meaning, asking Arthas, "We will listen to what you have to say, but Lista's assurance alone is not enough."
It wasn't that Tyrande didn't trust Lista; she and Malfurion were both certain that Lista hadn't been magically controlled, but facing any news of demons, they would treat it with extreme caution.
Therefore, they absolutely did not trust orcs who had dealings with demons, preferring to pay any price to utterly eradicate them, because the Elves knew very well that those who had been tempted by demons and fallen were very likely to stab you in the back at a critical moment.
However, with someone holding a Dreadlords' head as a guarantee, Tyrande felt that it wasn't entirely impossible to offer some trust.
Dreadlords were often the vanguard officers of the Burning Legion; they were very good at tricking mortals, playing with those who thought themselves clever in the palm of their hands; when they descended, they always brought enough chaos to the world.
Most importantly, they were extremely cunning and difficult for mortals to kill; if someone could obtain their head, it proved that the Dreadlords' physical body had indeed been destroyed.
However, what Tyrande and Malfurion hadn't considered was that Arthas had not only destroyed the physical bodies of Mal'Ganis and Balnazzar; he had also absorbed the souls of those two unfortunate beings.
It could be said that the only remaining Dreadlords still loyal to the Burning Legion, Tichondrius and Detheroc, probably hated and feared Arthas the most in all of Azeroth.
They wouldn't care about the lives of Balnazzar and Mal'Ganis; in the eyes of demons, losers were just useless trash, but Arthas's appearance had very effectively disrupted their rhythm, to the point where they couldn't even successfully summon the Legion's demons.
Fortunately, they were now regrouping in Kalimdor, using some of Ner'zhul's remaining legacy, and had completed the preliminary construction of the portal; although they couldn't directly summon Archimonde as envisioned, it was now only a matter of time.
While Arthas was trying to communicate with the Elves, not far north of Ashenvale, Felwood Forest, the essential path to the Night Elves' holy site, Mount Hyjal, was being affected by some dark power.
In a hidden sacred place of the Night Elf Druids, more than ten badly wounded Druid corpses lay on the emerald green grass.
Their bodies were covered in disgusting dark green putrefaction, and most of their limbs were incomplete; some, even if still attached to the body, showed strange distortions, clearly indicating they had endured atrocious torture before death.
Tichondrius leisurely retrieved the "treasure" guarded by these Druids; it was not some artifact filled with immense power, or an extremely evil and dangerous item, but merely an inconspicuous wooden stump base.
This most powerful Dreadlords calmly placed the Orc skull, filled with fel and malice, onto this wooden stump; at the same time, he waved his hands, and streams of green fel were extracted from the skull and continuously fed into the wooden stump.
The inconspicuous wooden stump became twisted and deformed like a tormented creature; the originally soft-looking stump, under the erosion of fel, transformed into a bizarre wooden demonic claw.
What was worse, these corrupted energies followed the stump's remaining underground roots, slowly devouring the life force of the surrounding forest and converting them into pure fel.
The corrupting power of gul'dan's skull was like an irreversible plague; after the surrounding flowers, plants, and trees were swept over by the fel, they withered and died instantly, and a deadly evil aura spread from their stamens and branches.
Forests are composed of interconnected trees; they are exceptionally strong, and even strong gales cannot destroy an entire forest, but this interconnected nature, at this moment, was the fatal weakness of these Ancient Trees.
Accustomed to receiving nourishment and energy transmission from their companions, they were almost instantly corrupted by the fel, without any reaction; large swathes of the forest, guided by the fel, turned from vibrant to desolate, and what were once tender, juicy grass blades now became deadly poison capable of killing any animal.
Ancient Trees do not fear the erosion of time; they will grow taller and more lush, but this also means their thoughts and reactions are not as swift as mortals; the Night Elves' forest was rapidly decaying, turning into a paradise of death and malice.
Tichondrius admired his masterpiece with satisfaction.
—Initially, the forest's corruption would be slow, but as the fel spread, the contaminated area of Felwood Forest grew larger and larger; the corruption was like a boulder rolling down a mountain, and by the time the Druids discovered it, it was too late to stop!
However much shade they once enjoyed, they now had to endure equally terrifying contamination!
As for the animals, Ancient Trees, and even elements driven mad by the fel, they were merely insignificant victims in this ruthless fel plague; Tichondrius's true goal was to make the forest, which was symbiotic with the Night Elves, completely betray them.
Once all life in Felwood was drained by the fel and condensed into the most corrupted, purest fel, that would be the best time for them to use this power to bring the Legion back to this world.
Tichondrius waved his hands, extracting all the Druids' souls and manipulating them to close off the trees outside this source of corruption, concealing the path.
Those Druids, in immense pain, helped their greatest enemies in life, personally destroying the groves they had protected; all sorts of resentment and hatred erupted, becoming nourishment for the Dreadlords' power.
"Ha... I'm really looking forward to the surprised look on those Elves' faces when they see my masterpiece."