The paladins decided to collectively hide on the banks of the Sodoril River, waiting for Galen's material support. This location also allowed them to support the Eastweald and Westweald regions at any time.
Uther led his personal guards to Lordaeron City.
There, Terenas would truly decide the fate of the Knights of the Silver Hand.
However, this was no longer important. Most knights believed they should remain neutral, loyal to their faith first, and then to the country.
In truth, the Knights of the Silver Hand were an organization with immense potential. Countless intelligent beings who believed in the Holy Light joined it one after another.
Even though Galen was now revitalizing the Arathi parish and starting anew by establishing the Knights Templar, the Knights of the Silver Hand remained strong.
What could be done?
Who told Stromgarde to have such a weak foundation?
Now, his own Knights Templar had over two thousand paladins, of which more than one thousand nine hundred were trained in the Cathedral of the Heart of Origin. Only a little over a hundred were truly converted from Arathi people!
Truly one in ten thousand…
And not everyone was a high-level paladin.
So frustrating!
Galen had been coveting the Knights of the Silver Hand for a long time!
Not just its official members, but also its series of training methods!
Alas!
If only he had two cathedrals, Galen wouldn't have to scheme so much, Galen thought greedily.
He preferred self-sufficiency and freebies.
Galen had settled the Knights of the Silver Hand, at least changing their fate of returning to their hometowns and being overwhelmed by the Scourge's undead sea with their forces scattered…
The power of individuals was too small in the face of the tide of corpses. Only by uniting the paladins could there be hope.
Of course, this referred to the paladins of Lordaeron. The Lich King currently didn't have the ability to compete with Galen in numbers.
Galen first sent Jaina back to Dalaran, and then rode Onyxia back to Stratholme.
At this time, the city had become a killing field, with houses on fire everywhere. Galen closed his eyes to sense the situation, and then had Onyxia fly towards the west of the city.
When Arthas entered the city, some people had already been turned into ghouls by the plague, and they were quickly wiped out by Arthas's team.
Next were the people of Stratholme. When they saw the Lordaeron army entering, they thought they were there to protect them. When the soldiers in Lordaeron army uniforms raised their butcher knives against them, they looked confused, not understanding why their beloved prince wanted to kill them.
Soon, the south of the city was cleared. Arthas and the soldiers felt great pain in their hearts. At the same time, his power of the Menethil no longer shone with the Holy Light, but there was no turning back. Arthas knew he couldn't waver, otherwise the soldiers under his command would also doubt the correctness of what he was doing.
So Arthas took the lead in setting fire to the houses on both sides of the street, and sealed the doors, ignoring the cries for help from the civilians inside.
However, when Arthas and his men cleared the King's Square in the south of the city, they found that there were not many residents left in the north besides ghouls…
What was going on?
Arthas was puzzled. He knew that Stratholme had a population of 200,000. The ghouls he killed in the south of the city were not that many. Where did they all go?
Soon, Arthas discovered that scattered living people were fleeing to the west of the city, and began to fight back against Arthas's massacre, as if that was their chance to survive.
Just as Arthas ordered the advance to the military camp in the west of the city, a voice rang in Arthas's ears and mind!
"Ha ha ha!"
"I've been waiting for you, young prince. I am Mal'Ganis!"
This voice was terrifying and chilling, while exuding an evil and dark aura.
Arthas looked in the direction of the voice and saw a tall purple figure, purple armor, and purple bat wings.
This was the Dread Lord?
A sense of joy surged in Arthas's heart. Heavens, I finally found the culprit!
The source of the scourge of Lordaeron, the source of the plague!
"Prince, as you can see, your people belong to me!"
Mal'Ganis waved his hand, and a large number of ghouls poured out from behind him, rushing towards the stunned Lordaeron soldiers!
"Mal'Ganis, I won't let you succeed, even if I kill all my people, it's better than dying in your hands and becoming slaves!"
Arthas's fighting spirit soared!
However, Mal'Ganis clearly didn't want to confront Arthas so quickly. He still needed to continue guiding him to expand the flaws in his heart.
"Hey, then come on, I'm waiting for you in the Lord's Manor!" After speaking, Mal'Ganis's figure disappeared.
"Ah!"
Arthas roared angrily, and then rushed recklessly to the northeast of the city, passing through the Festival Lane and the Elder Square, heading straight for the Stratholme Town Hall!
He had been to the Lord's Hall with Baron Rivendare before. Along the way, he swung his warhammer, and ghouls were blown apart one by one. The prince's guards followed closely behind.
Mal'Ganis didn't actually want to show up so early, but a third force had appeared in Stratholme.
A legendary paladin wielding a greatsword was holding on to the military camp and armory in the west of the city, and was letting the civilians of the city gather around him.
Mal'Ganis originally planned to ignore him, after all, the plague on those civilians was about to break out, but he didn't know why so many priests appeared in the military camp, directly using the Holy Light to suppress the outbreak of the plague, and then taking the weak civilians into the underground armory for protection.
As a result, Mal'Ganis was no longer calm. Originally, it was agreed that 200,000 people would be used to create 200,000 undead Scourge, but when he arrived in Stratholme, he found that there were only 100,000…
100,000 was 100,000, this number was barely enough, but now the plague transformation of the residents in the west of the city had also been destroyed. With such a small undead army, any regular army could easily clean them up.
The Dread Lord carefully observed Tirion, who seemed to be just an ordinary paladin, no different from the Holy Light Legion warriors formed by the Naaru on other planets.
But when Mal'Ganis was preparing to sneak attack Tirion, a feeling of palpitations welled up in his heart.
After weighing the pros and cons, Mal'Ganis decided to give up. After all, corpses were still easy to find. If Stratholme wasn't enough, he could go to other places to awaken the undead to make up the numbers. Arthas was his main target.
Memphistroth and Baalnazar in the dark were a little regretful, and could only honestly wait for the prince to defeat this former member of their own race.
Arthas was filled with anger, pushing forward relentlessly. He could no longer distinguish between the undead, reanimated corpses, and living humans blocking his path.
He struck down everything in his sight with his hammer.
He didn't know how long it took, but Arthas felt a clearing in front of him. He had finally broken through the horde of corpses and arrived at the plaza in front of Stratholme's City Hall…
Behind Arthas were his loyal, exhausted soldiers, who had cleared all the living and dead from the south, east, and north of the city.
"Heh heh heh!"
The purple Mal'Ganis descended from the sky, creating a gust of wind when his wings touched down. A bloody stench mixed with the smell of burning flesh assaulted the prince's face, almost making him vomit.
Arthas suppressed the nauseating feeling, his gaze fixed on the dreadlord.
"Let's end this now, Mal'Ganis, settle things between you and me!"
Mal'Ganis had no intention of fighting.
He stretched out his arm, pointed at Arthas and his soldiers behind him, then at the burning Stratholme, and laughed loudly, "You are indeed brave, young prince, but you are too weak. I won't bother killing you now. Gather all your strength and find me in Northrend to the north. That is where our true battle will take place."
"Heh heh heh…"
Amidst the mocking and derisive laughter, Mal'Ganis activated the dreadlord's unique spatial magic and disappeared before Arthas's eyes.
Arthas watched the dreadlord's figure disappear into the portal, and he screamed in anger, rushing forward recklessly.
However, the green magical runes in the air faded, and the portal disappeared. Arthas's mind went blank in an instant!
He was manic, furious, and screaming, swinging his warhammer wildly into the air until he exhausted himself. Trembling, he bent over, placing his hands on his knees, and gasped for breath.
Mal'Ganis had run away!
He had nowhere to vent his pent-up rage!
He felt a swelling in his chest, as if his lungs were about to explode!
Arthas, feeling frustrated and filled with anger, left Stratholme, which had turned into a sea of fire. He would gather the kingdom's fleet and embark on an expedition to the northern continent of Northrend!
"Weakness is the original sin…"
Galen muttered to himself softly in mid-air.
No matter what kind of world it was, without strength, one would always be the target of scheming. This high-magic world of Azeroth was like that, and so was Blue Star. Galen was filled with emotions for a moment.
Onyxia stretched out her neck and looked back at her master.
She didn't quite understand why the person on her back, who had eliminated her tyrannical father with a flip of his hand, suppressed the Black Dragonflight with a single hand, and then transformed the Black Dragonflight into Golden Holy Dragons, completely whitewashing them, would be so sentimental.
In fact, Galen was just speaking from the heart. If he had transmigrated without the cheat of the Origin Heart, his ending would probably not be much better than Arthas's.
He had once wondered if, without the Origin Heart, could he, as the prince of Stromgarde, rely on his foresight of Azeroth's history to change his fate and save Stromgarde?
The answer was no. Galen was not a child of destiny and had no confidence in escaping the curse of Azerothian princes and princesses.
… … … … … …
Turning to another perspective, Mal'Ganis jumped into the portal with a flourish. Then, somewhere in Azeroth, a portal opened, and the dreadlord's purple figure emerged from it.
"Heh, that Lordaeron prince is as dumb as a brick. He fell for a few simple words."
"Next, all that's left is to lead him to the cave where Frostmourne is hidden, and then lure him to pull out Frostmourne!"
The dreadlord was too focused and too confident in his spatial teleportation skills, completely ignoring the surrounding environment.
By the time he came to his senses, he realized that although it was snowy and cold around him, there was no howling wind characteristic of Northrend!
Before Mal'Ganis could react, he was already surrounded!
Hundreds of golden dragons had surrounded him, and even the weakest of them were at the peak of the high-tier.
And the two at the top…
Mal'Ganis was already trembling.
Demigods!
Fucking demigods!
Two of them!
A thousand thoughts raced through the dreadlord's mind. Who on earth had changed the coordinates of his portal?
This was a teleportation spell unique to the Legion, and coupled with the dreadlord's spatial talent, it could almost be considered the best in Azeroth!
Could it be that there was a traitor within the Legion?
Moreover, judging from the color of the dragons, their power attributes must be opposed to his, and they had come prepared!
The dreadlord was not as good at fighting as the pit lord. Mal'Ganis did not intend to fight head-on.
Find a chance to run…
"Corrupt Swarm!"
Four consecutive casts of the dreadlord's ultimate skill flew in four directions. Dense bats and insects blotted out the sky, and Mal'Ganis tried to use them to confuse the dragons' vision.
Then, his body disintegrated, turning into small bats, and he tried to escape by mixing into the swarm.
"Hmph!"
Among the golden dragons, Nefarian, the largest, snorted coldly. Then, all the dragons raised their heads and spewed a burst of holy light dragonfire breath in Mal'Ganis's direction!
A moment later, Nefarian and Sabellian each grabbed a fat bat in their claws.
Nefarian looked at them and said to his half-brother Sabellian, "Those two big bats said that they only need to leave one bat clone behind."
"Chirp!"
As soon as Nefarian finished speaking, Sabellian used force in his claws, directly crushing the two bats in his hands.
Nefarian quickly released one of his dragon claws…
He almost killed all four of them!
At this time, another portal appeared again at the place where Mal'Ganis had opened the door. Unlike the green runes just now, this time the portal was composed of golden runes.
Two golden dreadlords jumped out of the portal. The little bat that survived in Nefarian's dragon claw widened its small eyes…
It recognized them, Mephistroth, the Legion Commander, and Balnazzar, his brother of the same rank!
Damn it!
Sure enough, something was wrong with them!
Mal'Ganis wanted to cry but had no tears.
Nefarian threw the bat in his hand towards Mephistroth. The little bat was still trying to flap its wings to escape in mid-air, but unfortunately, it was hit by a sleep spell in mid-air, closed its eyes, and fell into Mephistroth palm.
"Thank you for the help, great brothers. The Holy Light Wings will remember this favor. If you need anything in the future, just let us know, and we will definitely come."
"Tch, the Holy Light Wings of two dreadlords, how can you be embarrassed to say it…" Sabellian said softly, but unfortunately, you are a dragon, even if you speak softly, it can still be heard for more than ten meters…
"…"
The scene turned awkward.