Shadow Trails in Azeroth

The large ooze monster in Ironbeard's Tomb was exploded by the magic power of the cursed evil weapon. Blake was lucky enough to find a weird leather bag covered in mucus in the exploded remains of the ooze monster.

This leather bag looks unusual.

Especially after Blake cleaned it, it looked even better.

It is a very compact backpack that can be worn on the belt, just like a waist bag. It should be made of some kind of fine, fine leather and sewn with a shiny thread.

Black estimated that it should be high-end goods such as rune thread or magic thread used by mages. On the top of the small backpack, there is a drawstring that can tighten or open it.

But if it were just pretty, this thing wouldn't be worth getting Blake so excited about.

It is a magic item.

After Blake put it on the belt he had pulled from the orcs, an entry for Magic Pattern Luggage appeared in the equipment column of the character card.

Its actual capacity is much larger than its size appears. Maybe the mages used magical magic similar to the extension spell on it.

Blake threw all his belongings in. The backpack was still not full, and there was something in it.

Some food, meat and a whole box of dwarf ale that had been there for an unknown period of time but were still not spoiled.

A pile of polished gold coins.

There are probably close to a hundred of them. This magic pattern backpack should be a trophy that a blood ring orc plundered in Azeroth, but in the end it was advantageous to Black, a rib man.

Speaking of which, if I remember correctly, eighteen years later, there was a quest chain for the dwarf herbalist in the Tomb of Ironbeard, and the final reward was also a magic bag.

Blake rubbed his chin and thought:

Could it be that the bag that the female dwarf gave me as a reward was the one I found now? No way.

Of course it was an unexpected surprise to get the magic backpack. Blake immediately threw the magic suitcase into the backpack. It was too eye-catching to have such a dangerous thing on your body.

He calmed down and began to look at another magic item found in the remains of the ooze monster.

This thing is rather weird.

It looks like a piece of rotten wood, gray-black, as long as a forearm, with the top thicker than the tail, and a circle of small frosted balls embedded in it.

Other than that, there's nothing to praise.

The only strange thing is that this thing is heavy to buy, and by weapon standards, the balance is excellent.

Blake grabbed it in his hand and waved it back and forth.

Well, it feels very good.

He glanced at the equipment column of the character card again, and found that this thing was actually regarded as a weapon, and the name made him miss it very much.

Werther's third leg

Excellent quality. Strengthened heavy blow. Weak crushing.

Well, the third leg

This thing is indeed quite weird in every sense of the word.

It was so weird that Blake didn't dare to think too deeply about it.

But in fact, this thing was not as evil as he thought. When he was sorting out mourning for the bones in the second level of the tomb, he found some small stone tablets recording the life of the deceased in the tomb.

There is a stone tablet inside that belongs to a dwarf named Witt. According to the stone tablet, Wait fought for the Bronzebeard family in the War of the Three Hammers and lost his left leg in Grim Batol.

So he built himself another leg.

It has powerful functions. It can not only be used to open beer, beat eggs, and make kitchen utensils, but it can also be used to open people's skulls after losing in gambling.

This thing must be good for hitting sap.

Black swung Wirt's leg in his hand, and then inserted it into his belt, intending to use this sophisticated weapon as his main weapon. As for the murloc knife that had drunk the blood of murlocs and orcs, he would not waste it.

Just use it as a throwing knife.

In the past two days of fighting, he had mastered the fatal throwing skill to the point where he could hit wherever he pointed within ten meters.

After this evil big ooze monster exploded, it brought a lot of experience to Black, and he allocated all that experience to the thief class.

Let that little experience bar break through level 9.

It is only one-third away from level 10.

Let's go, Ben Bolba. Let's work together to reach level 10 before tomorrow morning.

Blake finally bowed to the simple tombstone on the second floor of Ironbeard's Tomb.

Asking these dead dwarves to give him good luck, he then put on the gray-black hunting cloak of the Bloodring Orcs amidst the croaking sounds of the little murlocs, left Ironbeard's Tomb, and continued walking northeast.

Soon, he discovered the second bloody ring orc camp, and just like the camp at Ironbeard's Tomb, there were only a few old, weak, sick and disabled orcs guarding it.

Blake whistled and grabbed Werther's leg from his waist.

Say softly:

We're going to do it, Werther, please push harder, okay.

——

That night, Black used a poisoned throwing knife to kill the last old orc who escaped a few miles away from Dunmod, a dwarf town occupied by orcs.

After clearing the third camp he encountered, the one-armed old orc was stabbed in the back. After falling to the ground and taking his last breath, a familiar heat rushed into Blake's body.

He ignored the search for the camp and rubbed his hands, looking forward to assigning this experience to the thief class. Then, with his expectant gaze, the class experience bar took a step forward.

Finally jumped from level 9 to level 10.

This upgrade process was not as exaggerated as he imagined, but he just felt a flash of inspiration in his heart.

After hiding in the dark for the past few days, Black has already gained an understanding of the tiptoeing technique, and it's like the last layer of window paper has been pierced.

He looked to his side.

The night was like the best disguise. It gently put a garment of shadow on him, and he could feel the shadow that he could see but couldn't touch.

He felt a faint ray of knowledge opening up to him in the darkness.

That is the secret of the shadows.

Blake stood up, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, followed the feeling in his heart, took a step back slightly, and learned to touch the invisible shadow.

It's like the king's invisible new clothes are gently draped on himself, like a cloak.

He opened his eyes and raised his hands.

On the thin and slender fingers, an inaudible black shadow flows, covering every part of the palm and every part of the body.

The shadow reaches out to the beginner.

Blake took the hand and embraced it without reservation.

So the shadow gave him the blessing of strength, allowing him to live in the darkness.

Blake's heart was filled with joy. This was the first praiseworthy gift he had obtained with his own hands in this magical world.

He reached out and touched his forehead, and the character card was called up. In the talent column, there was now a Shadow Walking talent, and there was also a Stealth skill in the skill column.

It is the foundation of thieves, assassins, and stalkers. They are good at special skills. A skilled thief can even disappear quietly in broad daylight while hundreds of people are watching.

And blocking all his breath, it's like escaping into the shadows and disappearing from the world.

That is a realm that is beyond the reach of Blake now.

But it doesn't matter, he still has enough time to learn these shadow ways.

Shua

Blake's movement was a little bigger, tearing the thin shadow clothes on his body, causing the first stealth to fail, and his thin body reappeared in the dark night camp.

But he was not upset. Instead, he squatted on the ground with a smile on his face and began to search for the good things of several orcs.

There was no hope at all.

It is impossible for these old, weak, sick and disabled people who were left behind in the wetland to hide anything good, but surprises are surprises, and they come without any warning. In the pocket of a wounded orc soldier with a broken leg, Blake found a pair of Animal skin wrist.

Very clannish.

After wearing it on the wrist, there are new entries in the equipment column.

Dense Forest Bracers: Excellent quality. Weak protection.

Um.

There was only one entry, which was equivalent to none. It was slightly tougher than ordinary leather armor, which made Blake curl his lips helplessly. He now understood some of the characteristics of the equipment.

The more entries, the better. For a high-quality weapon like Werther's Leg, if the description on the entry is strengthened, it must be more powerful than weak.

But things of excellent quality are so rare. If you want to get lucky again and find excellent equipment like Werther's Leg, you may have to wait until the end of the year.

And Blake's current attire is also quite interesting.

The leather armor on his body was stolen from the orcs. Due to the curse, he became as thin as a bamboo pole, so the size of the leather armor was a bit inappropriate.

The trousers are hunting leather trousers, shorts style, leaving two bare legs, which does not affect the movement. The leather boots on the feet were picked up from the fishman village.

The size is just right, and it can protect the delicate toes. There is a turban on the top of the head, and it is dressed like an Arab.

This mix-and-match style doesn’t matter whether it’s beautiful or not.

Now is not the time to be particular.

He found a few more bottles of blood ring poison in the camp, and then quenched the poison on the short sword and dagger again. Werther's leg was no longer needed. It was a blunt weapon.

If you hit it on the head during a sneak attack, you will either fall into coma or have your skull split. There is really little point in applying poison.

The next step, then, is Dun Moder.

Taking advantage of the darkness, Blake entered stealth and tiptoed outside the camp. He hid in the shadows and looked toward the end of the horizon, where he could vaguely see a small town in the valley.

Typical dwarf style, built on the mountain.

There were very few buildings exposed on the surface, but there were lights on in the town, and there were patrolling orcs riding on the backs of the wolves, roaring out of the town and rushing further north.

If we could kill all the orcs in this town.

Blake licked his lips.

A genius idea popped into my head.

If he could really do it and kill all the 400 orcs in Dunmod Town, then his thief class would probably be promoted all the way to level 15, or even level 20.

But thinking about it, I know it’s impossible.

The people stationed there are not just stragglers, old, weak, sick and disabled, but real blood ring elites, and they also tame orc warwolves with keen sense of smell and hearing.

He was afraid that Blake would be discovered before he even got close, and would be torn into pieces by the violent orcs.

In this real world, there is no such thing as level crushing or instant kill.

He looked over to Dunmod a few more times, and finally stepped back with regret, planning to go to other places and find a few blood ring camps to bully the old, weak, sick and disabled.

It's best to lure a small group of elite orcs to check it out, and then kill them one by one. By the way, the elite orcs should be able to drop some good stuff.

Blake thought.

He glanced at his character card again.

He pessimistically discovered that the warrior class had dropped another level, already to level 3. At this rate, he could stay in the wetland for at most three or four days, and he would have to rush to the Arathi Highlands to find a priest to dispel the curse.

But just ten minutes after Black left Dunmod, he came to a hilly highland and planned to take a nap, when the little fishman in his arms suddenly started croaking.

Benbolba shivered and hid in Blake's arms, pointing his finger at the sky and covering his eyes with his other hand.

Apparently frightened by something.

Blake looked along the little fish-man's claws and was horrified for the next moment.

Above the quiet sky of the wetland, under the stars, a huge black shadow was spreading its wings and flying towards the Arathi Highlands. It was far away and flying very high.

Blake could only vaguely see a shadow, but that thing was at least thirty meters long!

Although Blake did not need to breathe in the form of the Undead Curse, he still instinctively held his breath at this moment, and conveniently covered the croaking mouth of the little fish man in his arms.

That is

A dragon!