[The Tyrant of Behemoth] (1)

Volume One: The Human Journey
Chapter One: Good News
Each race's capital city has its own unique characteristics, reflecting
the distinctive features and direction of its civilization. For example, the Orcs' Orgrimmar was built with sturdy Bloodstone, the human kingdom of Sophia's Storm
City was built with white marble, and the dwarves' Ironforge was carved into a cave within towering mountains. The Behemoth's capital
is also unique, situated atop a vast snow-covered mountain. While the Behemoth territory is normally spring-like year-round, this mountain
range is perpetually covered in snow and ice. The pristine white snow is a testament to the Behemoths' pursuit of power; they believe that a warm climate
only brings comfort, increasing the inertia and complacency of creatures.
Once, a human bard traveled here and composed a poem, which included the line, "Standing tall, white
snow before hooves, peach blossoms behind."
The snow-covered mountain is dotted with rows of haphazardly built wooden huts, offering no protection from the biting cold. Only one
Hall of Heroes, carved from a single massive stone, stands atop the mountain, enshrining the heroes of the Behemoths throughout history.
The Behemoths' day is divided into three periods: morning for work, afternoon for study, and evening
for rest. This differs greatly from humans, as the Behemoths believe that
increasing their own strength is far more important than creating wealth. This is mainly due to their simple lifestyle, lacking the extravagance of humans; even
their rulers never set out meals for two, having no need to create much wealth.
At this moment, the chieftain of the Tago tribe, and the current ruler of the Behemoths, Bigairu, is looking at an open book while
using his sharp claws to carve words onto a piece of wood.
Although the Behemoths possess the art of papermaking, holding a pen is a
painful experience for carnivorous Behemoths. To grip the slender pen, they must clench their fists, but their sharp claws inevitably
pierce their palms. Therefore, Behemoth scribes are often Behemoths with hooves.
Bigairu was engrossed in his book, so the characters he carved were crooked and uneven, but he didn't care at all. His claws
would leave marks as they scraped across the hard, driftwood; as long as he could understand them, that was enough. After all, no one would dare say that the King of Beasts
' handwriting looked like Doug swimming, unless he wanted to swim.
"Truly worthy of the human race! So despicable, so shameless," Bigairu exclaimed, his face full of admiration.
The book was turned to the end of the Second War of Races on the continent of Azeroth. The humans and orcs had been fighting for continental
dominance for nearly a century, with the humans ultimately emerging victorious and the orcs driven to the Barrens.
However, just as the human kingdom had successfully wiped out its formidable enemy, the orcs, from the continent,
the leader of the human kingdom—the Emperor of the Light Empire—suddenly died. Instantly, the human kingdom shattered, igniting a
perplexing war for the throne that baffled other races. Warfare erupted, internal strife raged, and ultimately gave the orcs
a chance to recover, allowing them to wipe out the original monsters of the Barrens and successfully establish a formidable fortress there—Orgrimmar
.
The human kingdom was ultimately divided into five kingdoms. The "Second War of Light," aimed at eliminating other races, ended in human
fragmentation, a regrettable outcome. Of course, if the humans had truly succeeded in eradicating the orcs,
the Behemoths, residing in the east, would undoubtedly have become the next target of human attacks. Whether Bigel is still
here reflecting on this is another matter entirely. However, the account of the cause of this schism written by the human historians both amused and impressed Bigairu
: His Majesty Thoradin, the ruler of the human kingdom, was assassinated by the despicable orcs. Orc assassins had infiltrated the human race
for years, finally succeeding in their plot. His Majesty, mortally wounded, succumbed to his wounds. "
If the bloodthirsty orcs can infiltrate the human race for so long, then even saintesses could be selling themselves in courtyards,"
Bigairu thought dismissively. This was merely wishful thinking on the part of the humans; they probably didn't even
believe it themselves. What use was assassinating the king after being driven to the barren continent? The king was stationed at home, and
the army was then commanded by the frontline commander of the Alliance of Righteous Races—Dellitz. Besides, if the king died
, another could be chosen, especially since the rightful heir to the throne—Arthas—was still alive at the time.
"How despicable! How shameless!" Bigairu concluded. He did feel sorry for the human race, but
their despicable nature was their best weapon; they were both their strength and their weakness. There was nothing inherently wrong with being despicable
; the continent's rule was survival of the fittest. So, while Bigel cursed the human race's shamelessness, he diligently studied
. Weren't other races also learning from the human race? Learning wasn't just a human's specialty; all highly intelligent species
had the potential to learn. It was a manifestation of their adaptation to the environment, their best weapon for survival. Even the supposedly pure
elves had learned to coat their arrows with plant poison.
Bigel watched with great interest, mercilessly despising the shameless human race. Although everyone
was learning, the human race's endless and skillful use of intrigue still amazed other races.
Just as Bigel was enjoying himself, an old voice came from outside the window: "Bigel, I have
good news for you."
The person who came was the one known as the most idle person in the Behemoth race—indeed, very idle, and a human. However, this human was no ordinary
person; he was a Taoist priest from the mysterious Eastern continent. His initial arrival, riding the wind on a sword
, stunned the Grand Elder, who mistook him for a Saint-level expert. After all, the Eastern continent held an aura of mystery and fantasy for the natives of Azeroth
. Their continent was a unified and powerful nation, where even minor officials were wealthier than the king.
Bread grew on the ground, and expensive silks, worn only by nobles, adorned the trees. Their warriors were said to possess superhuman
strength, capable of moving mountains.
According to the old man, he lived a life of great prestige back then, and even now, the mad old man recalls it with a look of rapture
and longing. This isn't surprising; a Saint-level expert would receive a grand welcome and enthusiastic hospitality wherever they went
. Unfortunately, the mad old man's strength was truly pathetic, no stronger than a D-level martial artist
. Of course, for a species unfamiliar with Eastern magic, he could still intimidate them, potentially
leading to unexpected results.
When Bigel was little, he loved pestering this crazy old man to tell him stories; after all, he had traveled the world and seen a lot.
He was also eloquent and possessed novel magical abilities. In Bigel's eyes at the time, this mad old man perfectly embodied
the image of a reclusive, peerless master in human novels: seemingly eccentric, outwardly ordinary, yet often
displaying extraordinary talents. However, as he grew older, this mystique gradually faded.
Bigel witnessed the mad old man's various misdeeds and his incomplete abilities, and naturally, he no longer admired the fellow. Nevertheless,
he did learn many magical techniques that Bigel considered useful.
"Mad old man, what good news do you have? Let me think." Bigel looked up at him, feigning deep thought.
"What good news can you bring me? Have you found another place to freeload?" Bigel
loathed his freeloading; didn't this guy know that even a monarch's food was rationed?
Perhaps Bigel wouldn't become the wise ruler praised by the descendants of the Behemoths, but he would definitely become the thinnest monarch.
"Of course not." The old man chuckled sheepishly, without even blushing.
He walked into the wooden hut, stroking his white beard.
It was said that stroking his beard was a way of practicing the Eastern magic of "immortal grace," but to this day, Bigairu still
couldn't figure out what this "immortal grace" magic actually was—bewitching or mind control? After all, many of the old man's words
were unreliable. He claimed to have practiced the art of fasting, able to live on dew and air, needing no food. But judging from his
swift eating speed, this was clearly a conspiracy to deceive his Behemoth brethren and plunder their resources.
"Don't look at me like that, Bigairu. This time it's really good news. Aren't you most envious of humans?
This time, the Grand Elder has convened a secret meeting of Behemoth chieftains and voted with his feet to let you travel among humans."
"Really?" Bigairu stood up excitedly, gripping the wooden board tightly, crushing it into powder
. The Grand Elder's usually stern, wrinkled, aged face now seemed inexplicably kind. But in
an instant, Bigairu's face was full of doubt again. "But how do we get there? We can't just tell them that the Behemoth monarch came here to study and visit
, can we? They'd definitely turn me into Tago whip wine! It's said that only the King of the Sofia tribe has
one bottle of Tago whip wine, which shows how precious it is.
" "It can be used to make more than just wine!" The old man began to show off his knowledge again. "It can also be used to make Tago leather coats, Tago
leather banners, Tago bone wine..." The old man wanted to go on and on, but he inadvertently noticed that the "king" stripe on Bigairu's Tago face
had deepened and become more prominent. This was a sign that he was about to get angry, so he quickly shut his mouth.
"But you don't need to worry about that. This problem is actually easy to solve. Our mysterious Eastern magic
has a move called 'Soul Transference Technique,' which can swap your soul with that of a human boy, then
freeze your body with Extreme Speed Ice Palm. Once you return from your travels in human territory, you can switch back.
" "Is this safe?" Bigeru couldn't help but worry. He'd never even heard of the Soul Transference Technique, and more importantly,
it involved changing bodies. Even the strongest beast couldn't bear
the terrifying reality of waking up to find itself transformed into another person.
"Don't worry about that," the old man patted his chest, assuring him. "Eastern magic, the real deal.
" "I naturally trust Eastern magic, but I don't trust you." The old man was the only Eastern Taoist here , and it was obvious that having this mad old man handle the operation was bound to 　　cause some trouble. After all, this old man had messed up
even the simplest things before . 　　 The old man chuckled, not even blushing at being openly distrusted by Behemoth. Perhaps 　　he was used to it. "This was a collective decision made by the racial assembly, and the Grand Elder has also agreed. By the way, 　　the Grand Elder asked me to inform you to come over and discuss it, and also to meet the body you're going to transform into. 　　It's a very cute human child, and from a high-ranking noble family. He'll definitely make your travels in the human realm very comfortable; consider it a 　　publicly funded trip!" 　　 Here comes the crazy talk again. What does "publicly funded" mean? Bigairu didn't ask any more questions and 　　went to find the Grand Elder with a troubled heart.

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