In the heart of Zuldazar, the Zandalari capital of Dazar'alor, the troll general who had led the raid on the Night Elves knelt in the great hall. God-King Jakra and Prophet Zul'antz were listening to his report.
"I see."
Jakra and Zul'antz exchanged a look. The God-King spoke to the general with approval, "You have worked hard, General Sazan. Please go and rest."
"Yes! Zandalar Forever!"
Once only the two remained in the hall, Zul'antz rubbed the golden ornaments on his tusks and asked, "God-King, what do you think?"
Jakra tapped his finger on the armrest of the throne, considering for a moment before answering, "According to Sazan's report, the Night Elf mission possesses significant combat strength. Sazan wasn't even able to force their commander to take action personally."
"If the Burning Legion only sends a small number of demons to intercept them, they will likely find it difficult to take down such a fully armed mission."
Zul'antz nodded in agreement. "I thought so as well. According to reports from scouts lurking within the Night Empire, the main force of the Night Elf Resistance is currently confronting the demon army on the outskirts of Zin-Azshari."
"Under that scale of pressure, it should be difficult for either side to spare enough troops to send elsewhere."
"That demon named Varimathras likely turned to us to join the hunt precisely because he lacks sufficient manpower."
"A temporary stalemate, then..."
God-King Jakra weighed the options and looked up at Zul'antz. "Prophet, I suggest we continue to send people to track the Night Elf mission."
"This is our home; the Zandalari know every inch of Zuldazar. Our scouts should be able to keep them under constant surveillance without being detected."
"Based on our previous discussion, even if we don't participate directly, we should at least see the mission safely into the borders of Pandaria."
Prophet Zul'antz, being elderly, did not have the stamina of the vigorous God-King. After a long day, he was feeling quite exhausted.
He nodded with half-closed eyes, agreeing somewhat hazily, "Let it be so. Depending on the situation, we might even need to provide some assistance to the Night Elves without leaving a trace... My feelings are a bit complicated."
Jakra was concerned about Zul'antz's health and offered a word of comfort, "It cannot be helped. Driving out the demons concerns the interests of our entire race—even all of Kalimdor. Let us set aside our hatred for the Night Elves for now."
"Prophet, go and rest for a while. If there is any update, I will notify you immediately."
"Thank you for your concern. I shall leave it to you then, God-King."
...
Just as the two Zandalari leaders had said, the main Resistance force led by Jarod and the Burning Legion were in a standoff not far from Zin-Azshari. Both sides were temporarily exercising restraint, with only small-scale probing battles occurring.
After departing from the vanguard camp, Andreas spent ten days taking a detour, flying all the way to the edge of Nazmir near Zandalar's northern territory before turning north. Although it took a lot of effort, this allowed him to bypass the main defensive lines the Burning Legion had established east of Zin-Azshari.
Compared to the main battlefield in the east, the south and west gates of Zin-Azshari were guarded by Moon Guard troops arranged by the Highborne themselves, with almost no demons in sight. These Moon Guards were mostly concentrated near the city gates; up until Andreas flew to the outskirts of the city, he had encountered no resistance.
"Now, here's the problem."
Perched on the branch of a towering ancient tree not far from the south gate, Andreas—still in his Golden Eagle form—looked toward the city with sharp eyes. A faint, pale purple barrier loomed over the entire city.
"How am I supposed to get past the defensive barrier and enter the city unnoticed?"
The Night Empire, with its highly developed arcane civilization, did not use primitive methods like manually checking people at the gates. The Highborne, led by Xavius and backed by the inexhaustible energy of the Well of Eternity, had deployed a massive magical barrier around the city.
Every creature entering or leaving would be scanned by the barrier. If anyone without authorization approached the edge of the barrier, the early warning system would trigger an immediate alarm. Furthermore, the detection range of this magical system wasn't limited to humanoids; it effectively eliminated the possibility of Druids turning into animals to slip in unnoticed.
Andreas crouched on the treetop and observed for a long time. Due to the chaotic situation in recent years, few people were willing to enter or leave the city. The few merchants who did pass through were in a hurry, and a faint white light would flash across them as they entered the barrier's range.
An identity recognition system? How troublesome.
Just as Andreas was racking his brain for a way in, a sudden commotion broke out at the quiet city gate. A shirtless Night Elf male, marked with numerous Fel runes, was angrily questioning the Moon Guards.
Oh?
Andreas watched the ill-tempered blind man in surprise. With such a unique appearance, if he wasn't mistaken, this man had to be the brother of Archdruid Malfurion—Illidan Stormrage.
"Move!"
Illidan angrily tried to shake off the Moon Guards clinging to him. "Drelsen! Do you not recognize me anymore? I am Illidan Stormrage!"
The Moon Guard commander at the gate sneered, "Of course I recognize you—the famous member of the Stormrage family, the younger brother of Archdruid Malfurion."
"What? Are you trying to sneak back into the city to gather intelligence for the Resistance?"
Veins bulged on Illidan's forehead. His knotted muscles tensed as he glared at Drelsen and roared, "Do not compare me to Malfurion! I have zero interest in his childish Druidic teachings! Open your eyes and look at me!"
Slap! Slap!
Illidan slapped his powerful chest, where green Fel runes pulsed across his body.
"I have received the blessing of Lord Sargeras. I am now one of your comrades. Let me pass immediately!"
Drelsen said sarcastically, "I'm afraid I cannot do that. Orders from the palace state that given your relationship with Tyrande Whisperwind, Illidan Stormrage is forbidden from entering the city to cause trouble. Forgive me for not complying."
"You!"
Illidan—short-tempered and willing to use any means to achieve his goals—had only been patient enough to explain himself to this "nobody" out of respect for Queen Azshara and the Burning Legion. But Illidan was Illidan, and in his heart, Tyrande's safety was more important than anything.
Seeing that negotiations had failed, the Fel runes on the Demon Hunter began to flash with a blinding light.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way!"
Illidan erupted in Fel flames. The Moon Guards holding him were ignited amidst screams of agony. Freed, Illidan drew the two crescent-shaped warglaives from his back, their blades stained a sickly green by Fel energy.
His eyes, covered by a black cloth, glowed with a distinct green light. Suppressing his rage, Illidan warned in a low voice, "If Queen Azshara asks, I will explain it to her myself. Now, I will say it one last time: Move!"
"Not a chance!"
Drelsen's face paled slightly. He retreated behind the protection of the Moon Guards and raised his hand to issue a loud order: "Prepare to attack! Illidan wishes to defy Her Majesty's orders! Take him to the palace—dead or alive!"
Illidan's patience finally ran out. He bared his snow-white teeth in a savage grin and growled, "You... are not prepared to face me!"