Sylvanas reluctantly swallowed the strange-tasting milk, her eyes filled with a trace of humiliation and surprise.
"You've become much stronger. Back in Strahnbrad, you were still very weak."
Arthas shrugged indifferently; perhaps it was the benefits of leveling up and increasing skill levels.
If he was lucky enough to trigger Bash or a critical hit now, one hammer strike could kill a ghoul. If he was lucky enough to trigger two at once, he could even instantly kill a level three abomination with thousands of health points.
So, saying he had become stronger was indeed true.
"If I'm not strong, how can I protect you?"
Sylvanas sneered, turning her head away to avoid his mischievous smile.
"You're a scumbag! A paladin like you is a disgrace to the Silver Hand!"
Seeing her gritting her teeth, this was definitely sarcasm.
Arthas, on the other hand, took a deep breath, his uneasy heart calming down considerably as he released his emotions.
"Let's go to Stratholme. That's where I fell in my dream. I hope there's still hope for it, otherwise the undead Scourge will force me to purge the city!"
At these words, Sylvanas was stunned. Forgetting shame and humiliation, she quickly tried to persuade him.
"You're insane! You can't do that!"
"That's the second most important town in Lordaeron, with many adventurers, foreign merchants, and high elves. Doing this will ruin you!"
A town, even the second largest city, could be destroyed.
But as the crown prince, he absolutely could not propose purging the city, much less do it. The impact would be too severe!
Arthas chuckled mischievously, wrapping an arm around her slender, agile waist, his tone a little flippant.
"It seems you care about me a lot?"
Sylvanas then realized her lapse. She was also surprised why she was so agitated. Perhaps, unknowingly, her fate had already become intertwined with Arthas'.
They would prosper or suffer together, and there was a feeling she was unwilling to admit but had already taken root in her heart.
"Pah, don't get ahead of yourself. If you die, who will accompany me back to the forest to fight the undead?"
She would never admit it, nor could she.
After half a day's rest, the army set off again.
This time, with the assistance of the Silver Hand, it still took three full days. During this time, they encountered many undead and bandits who had taken to the roads.
Among the undead, besides ghouls, one could vaguely see many animal carcasses and murloc carcasses, all reanimated as undead.
When they reached the outskirts of Stratholme, a military camp was already set up outside.
Fordring, carrying the Ashbringer, stepped forward to salute, his armor still bearing numerous blemishes.
"Good day, Prince Arthas."
"No need for formalities. What is the situation in Stratholme?"
Arthas walked up the hill to gaze at the magnificent city before him: a five-meter-wide moat, city walls nearly fifteen meters high, and watchtowers above. It would be almost impossible for any army to conquer this city.
But what if it was blown up from the inside?
Effortlessly!
"I apologize, Prince Arthas, I have disappointed you."
Fordring lowered his head, a trace of guilt flashing across his old face.
It was Marwyn, the captain of the assisting guard, who helped explain, revealing the truth to everyone.
After splitting into two groups that day, Arthas continued to investigate the plague and confront the Cult of the Damned.
Fordring, meanwhile, had gathered the Silver Hand and priests from the Church of the Holy Light to go to Stratholme for investigation and defense, but the nobles within the city had already fallen.
While investigating the granary, accompanied by the mayor, they were ambushed by a group of the undead Scourge. This Scourge not only had towering flesh giants, abominations, but also a type of half-human, half-spider undead that ambushed them.
The investigation team suffered heavy losses. Although Fordring's will was firm and he had the blessing of the holy weapon Ashbringer, he was still no match for the monsters surging from all directions.
Fortunately, they received help from the priests and soldiers stationed at the Crusader Square outside, which allowed them to retreat.
The one who tipped them off was Baroness Anastari, who monopolized the jewel business in Stratholme. This lady guided Fordring and others through a secret passage to escape the city, and she herself also ran out.
Now, Baron Rivendare had stopped pretending, sealed off the city, preventing them from entering. Screams could be heard from inside at all times.
A scent of baked bread wafted over, and Arthas subconsciously looked towards the city. It was the smell of dinner cooking.
An ominous premonition came to him. He knew that the food from Andorhal had already been distributed, supplying various villages and towns.
As the second largest city and commercial center of Lordaeron, Stratholme had a population of over two hundred thousand.
After consuming the plagued food, people would die agonizingly after a period of time. The Holy Light could not cure it, only relieve the pain; those who were meant to die would still die.
He truly couldn't believe how they could defend against two hundred thousand undead. They would never finish killing them, even if their hands went numb!
"What is the population of Stratholme?"
Only Uther was relatively clear about this question, as the Silver Hand was stationed in this city.
"Prince Arthas, the resident population surveyed a year ago was one hundred and fifty thousand, including three thousand garrisoned soldiers. With the floating population and trade, it has already exceeded two hundred thousand."
These words made Arthas frown deeply, and his tone became exceptionally grave.
"Uther, I ask you, if everyone inside turns into undead, we will face over two hundred thousand sleepless, tireless undead. How will we confront them?"
He didn't propose purging the city. Even though his strength was now incomparable to the past, if he faced an army of two hundred thousand undead, his only option would be to quickly flee.
Human wave tactics were still effective until one's strength could destroy a city with a single blow.
Uther also couldn't come up with a solution, only vaguely saying,
"Prince Arthas, there must be a way to solve this. Not everyone in the city has turned into undead, and there are still soldiers inside. We can suppress these undead."
"The Holy Light will protect us, and the undead will ultimately fail and be destroyed!"
These words were as good as unsaid. Where was the solution? Where was the way to solve the problem?
Before the crown prince could speak, Mograine, who had accompanied the army, had perfectly taken over as the mouthpiece. His fiery temper couldn't stand it.
"Uther! Have you been the crown prince's tutor for too long, burdened by honor?"
"Two hundred thousand civilians are about to turn into undead before our eyes. I saw it in Hearthglen; soldiers next to me, after eating the plagued grain, suddenly turned into undead during battle and tore their comrades to pieces."
"You have no idea how terrifying the plague is. If we don't stop it, the monsters that turn into undead will kill the uninfected people and turn them into undead as well."
"Now, what we need to do is break into Stratholme and kill all the plagued residents, leaving no one behind!"
"This entire city must be purged!"
My God!
At these words, everyone was too shocked to speak.
Purge the city!?
This was an important town with two hundred thousand people, a commercial city for foreign trade. How great would the political impact be?
Not only humans were inside, but also members of the Alliance: Dwarves, high elves, Gnomes, and other human kingdoms, etc. The political impact was too severe!
Everyone looked at Arthas, wanting to see how this young crown prince of Lordaeron would choose.