...

Two days before the game, there will be competitions within each race, and then those with the best grades will become champions and warriors. It sounds like a lot of trouble, but the pace of the game will be carried out very quickly. The selected champions will freely form teams to enter the competition field in the center of the arena. Many people believe that the excitement that the boring riding training has not been shown will be presented here soon.

However, it caused even greater trouble.

Although it has been explained clearly in advance, in the first game, a Stormwind City champion Warriors and an Orgrimmar champion Warriors stabbed each other down their mounts due to anger. Tirio Fording knew that all hopes for peace and order had been wiped out.

The crowd exclaimed because of this life-threatening fight, and stepped into the court to surround the two warriors who fell on the ground, leaving Tirio and his entourage sitting in their positions. Soon the polite atmosphere of this article became chaotic, and various languages ​​shot around the court like arrows. The only thing Tirio could do was to try to restrain himself and not use his angry punishment power in this situation.

The cruelty of the Holy Light is no less than its kindness.

Tyrio sighed anger and formed a cloud of mist in the cold wind. He raised his hand to cover his eyes, reluctant to watch the soldiers of the Northern Expedition Army bravely trying to restore the out-of-control league order. However, even though they kept pointing at outsiders to the emblem of their robes to indicate their identity, many intermittent sounds of steel collisions still sounded in the competition venue, covering up the light music originally played in the cold north wind.

"Enough," Tyrio complained, his voice squat and harsh. "Let them go!"

The great lord then turned around and left, leaving the group of people to continue arguing.

Following the wall of this corridor, he was the gate of the arena. There, the Silver Hand and the statue of the hero who passed away in the silver dawn were faithfully alerted. The quarrels and noise in the air made him ashamed that he dared not let his eyes meet the statue's sight. He could only pass through here quickly.

The breeze on the shore brought the fried fish, the delicious aroma of barbecue boars and the familiar hawking sounds of many merchants, and it was a really happy breath for those who escaped the chaos.

These vendors came soon after the news of the competition spread. Now they are neatly setting up stalls around the arena base, keen on selling the goods they sell, and serve the warriors summoned by the Northern Expedition Army. Their flags, goods, and clothing are unfolded in front of the audience.

Their support made Tyrio's face again. The merchants were quite elegant and interesting, reminding him of many of the Knights competitions that seemed to be held in Fireplace Valley in his previous life: Lordaeron's breeze, the sound of horns and laughter, the juicy barbecue and wine on his tongue, and the excitement of Tyran's eyes seeing the knights from all over the world compete on the competition.

A cold wind bit into the gap between the Great Lord's armor, which brought his consciousness back to reality. Holding a heavy heart, he reminded himself that the warmth of Lordaeron would not appear in this land of eternal winter, and that Tyran's eyes would not open again. Only these merchants were the only things that remained.

"It's so thankful and surprising to see that there is no blood on the Ashes Messenger!"

The voice of his speech was cold and harsh, and Tirion knew whose voice it belonged to without turning around and facing the person.

"I heard from your people that you didn't attend, but you came anyway."

Nathanos Wither spoke as if he was shooting an archery. He is now wearing a dark purple robe he bought from a vendor.

Tirio once looked at the entry table. Before the game started, the Forgotten One chose to abstain from the first two rounds, perfectly "missing" the good show just now.

"Welcome, wither. Sorry, I can't greet you officially, this may be your intention."

"The living has the ability to hate," said Nathanos, completely ignoring Tirio's greeting. "Hate is also an emotion that cannot be controlled by the living."

"And there is a greater hatred than the Scourge's hatred for the living?"

"Stop deceiving yourself, Grand Lord. The hatred that arises from the cold death is given by the Lich King, and is also fixed, and is not as good as the hatred of the living."

Nathanos slightly turned his head back and listened carefully to the chaos and noise behind him. The blood of the Alliance and the tribe was boiling, foaming at his mouth, and his loud roar seemed to shake the whole world.

The Wither continued, the voice sounded like it was twisted with the darkest magic. "Blooding... is inevitable, but the subsequent diplomatic work is the most troublesome."

Tirio sighed with frustration. He knew that once Thrall or Varian knew about this, they would only condemn the other party's behavior, and would not restrain their subordinates.

Fordine's eyes met Nathanos's sight. The abnormal red light. The frost in the air freezes on his robe, turning it into complete white.

"The Forgotten is indeed much quieter than them, and it is more worry-free," Tirio replied after a while. "At least, he won't compete with his opponents in the battle with his opponents. But what I'm worried about is that the conflict will make people feel that the game has no value at all."

"This is still a topic that has been argued to badly from the beginning," Nathanos said.

"The existence of the league is necessary, the Withered One. You and I know that there is an extremely evil existence hidden in the Lich King's fortress. We cannot just let the army fight against Arthas, otherwise he will turn the power of everyone against us."

"You don't have to say that to me," Nathanos replied. "I know what you think, but in other people's eyes you are less real than those who are participating in the game. The purpose of the league is to find out the most powerful warriors in Azeroth, but everyone knows that what you really want is to extinguish the warriors caused by Wrien and Hellscream. And because you intend that, many people say you are an idiot."

Tyrio was furious and furious, but he knew that the Withering One had just told the truth. He deeply hoped that the armistice agreement could promote cooperation between the tribe and the alliance, even if it was only temporary. But now, it is not necessary to spend too much energy to observe and find that this situation cannot be achieved at all. They may even... suddenly face each other when they attacked the Ice Crown Fortress.

"If we are going to defeat Artsas, we must unite."

"So, what do you want to do?" Nathanos looked back at the arena again, "...to improve this bad situation?"

"Would you like to help me?"

"If your plan can make the Lich King's Destruction day come one day early."

Tyrio felt the anger in his body was calming, and he did think of a way, first he had to stop and take a breath. "I want the Forgotten to participate in the next game."

A strange look flashed across his face as Nathanos turned around. Soon he understood the ashes' thoughts, and the Withered nodded secretly, "Then you have to invite the leader of the Alliance Tribe first."
Chapter completed!