In Northrend, deep within the Titan Guardian fortress of Ulduar, thousands of meters underground, a colossal fish head roared in a pool of water.
This fish head was extremely bizarre, formed by countless large mouths full of sharp teeth.
Even its eyes, upon closer inspection, were miniature mouths, truly grotesque.
"It's useless. The Burning Legion has promised to destroy everything with Fel. Your power is no match for Fel."
"C'Thun says you're an idiot, a fool who only knows how to pretend to be a woman. He says you're a zero, who likes to be penetrated by Loken!"
"N'Zoth says you used to be Y'Shaarj's little lapdog. He'd make you stand on your head, make you dance. Bah, you're truly disgusting!"
Yogg-Saron was enraged, frantically slapping the surrounding confining walls, but the rebound force activated the defensive facilities, causing it to howl in pain.
You are one, one, ah hahaha!
Only Old Gods ever whispered to others, driving them to madness, but no creature had ever managed to reverse-whisper, incessantly chattering in their minds.
This whispering method was invented by the Old Gods after countless years of imprisonment, gradually understanding the prison's restrictions and discovering a way to bypass defenses to find faithful tools and cannon fodder.
They could even transfer a portion of their power to their followers, but it would leave them extremely weak, requiring a very long time to recover.
Without flesh and souls to consume, they could never return to their peak strength, not even until death.
"Useless! Useless!"
"Damn N'Zoth, you weakest of mongrels, if I hadn't helped you seal Xal'atath back then, you'd already be a pile of rotten meat!"
"C'Thun, I'm coming for you! Don't let me see you. If I see you, I'll blast out every single one of your dog eyes! Ahhh! I'm so angry!"
The enraged Yogg-Saron couldn't calm down. It had always viewed the creatures on Azeroth as the highest-tier Old God, seeing them as tiny ants, dust, not even worthy of its efforts to corrupt.
Perhaps, just as it succeeded, and took a nap, those tiny ants would already be dead.
Too weak, they weren't even fit to be its servants!
Coincidentally.
In the deepest southern part of the Kalimdor continent, beneath the Uldum Titan prison.
The Old God C'Thun was also in a furious rage, so angry that he summoned a large number of his servant Qiraji, devouring these dirty, smelly, and highly poisonous insects.
"Just you? Archimonde said he could take ten of you. What The Legion can give me, you can't. You're just a little brother."
"By the way, Yogg-Saron said you used to be his fire extinguisher, to be played with however he pleased. In front of the great Yogg-Saron, C'Thun is the little brother of little brothers. He says you're just a songstress!"
"N'Zoth says that when you were still weak, you were his bootlicker. You licked your way to success, grew wings, and now you don't even greet N'Zoth as your good husband!"
The Old Gods' whispers were meant to tempt and corrupt; Arthas' whispers were about sowing discord and hurling insults, as disgusting as possible.
Next time, he would go back to the dwarven artisans and mages to get a phonograph, find a professional voice actor for a 'biogas explosion, you are one, one, ah hahaha' audio, and play it on a loop for the three Old Gods.
He would let them know what mental pollution was, and what it meant for this cage to be 'dirty' and 'unusable'.
The furious C'Thun wasn't unaware that the other party might be lying, but some of the secrets the other party spoke of were known only to them, the Old Gods. It had to be the other two beasts who told him!
Beneath Nazjatar, at the bottom of The Great Sea.
N'Zoth, on the other hand, seemed very calm, because he was the weakest and also the most resolute in mind.
He did not deny that he wanted to lick Xal'atath's feet.
He did not deny being Azshara's bootlicker.
He did not deny being mounted by Archimonde of the Burning Legion.
A truly wise person cannot be swayed; such slanderous rumors are beneath contempt.
However, seeing his constantly swaying tentacles, enduring Arthas' whispers at all times, making it impossible for him to communicate externally, one knew that this giant squid's heart was far from calm.
Name: Arthas Menethil
Profession: Newly Entered Demigod
Lifespan: 3000 years
Looking at the updated information, the 'Newly Entered Demigod' part seemed a bit odd.
A Demigod is a Demigod, or not; what's the point of being half, not half?
Wait, his lifespan suddenly increased by three thousand years?
This is probably less than half of a high elf's lifespan, isn't it?
It was a headache. Could it be that only by becoming a Demigod could one achieve eternal life?
He shook his head, temporarily pushing these thoughts aside. As long as he lived long enough, he would still find the answer.
Now, he didn't know what stage the Burning Legion had reached. It was better to return to Lordaeron first to check.
After anchoring to the Town Hall, he cast group teleportation. The spell, which originally required a five-second cast time, was now reduced to four seconds after his intelligence increased significantly!
This could be considered a pleasant surprise!
Especially since the ten-hour cooldown was also reduced to just over six hours.
However, as soon as he returned to the City of Hope, he noticed something strange.
There wasn't a single person in the city!
This wasn't right.
After the destruction of Lordareon Royal City, most of the nobles fled here. They had some savings and could temporarily settle here.
The original intention was to drain their wealth and then drive them back once the undead Scourge had been mostly cleared, and it was time to return to their fiefs for reconstruction.
The concentration of a large amount of wealth here also accelerated infrastructure development considerably.
In addition, with high elves settling here, they would inevitably contact their former kin and promote the benefits of this place.
Even if it didn't attract people to settle, at least adventurers would come.
Quel'Thalas was overrun by the undead Scourge, and now they couldn't even care about the number of civilians, being busy with clearing the undead Scourge and rebuilding.
Many civilians could only fend for themselves; hoping for rescue was impossible.
Thus, becoming an adventurer, traveling around, earning money to support their families, was also a way to find a solution for their magic addiction.
Besides the high elves, there were also the Wildhammer dwarves who had settled here temporarily after Aerie Peak was destroyed.
Trade with the Stormwind Kingdom also attracted many foreign adventurers, and the entire city thrived with the influx of adventurers and merchants.
When the black dragon princess wasn't playing mind games, she was truly a dedicated and responsible Minister of Finance. There was no one more suitable than her.
Even cunning goblins couldn't get the better of her.
Dare to embezzle a dragon's gold?