Azeroth Monster Manual

Aegwynn swayed her body and walked gracefully towards Elan. Today, she had specially dressed up, and a blush had spread across her originally plain face.

Her full lips were slightly upturned, as vibrant as two butterflies overlapping each other. Her eyes were charming and alluring, exuding a captivating aura.

She licked her lips and stared straight at Elan, her red lips slightly parted:

"You are Elan? Hmm, you have a fascinating masculine charm."

After a burst of silvery laughter, the Guardian had approached the Archmage before anyone knew it.

Her fair and slender hands caressed Elan's face.

Aegwynn's beautiful eyes stared intently at the man's pupils, a green light flashing deep within her eyes.

Elan seemed to be frozen in place, his eyes dazed as he looked at the woman before him. His breathing was heavy, and his face was flushed, like a drunkard.

Byrnise watched enviously as the beautiful woman charmed the crowd and his old friend lost his soul. He sighed softly and slowly retreated.

"Then, you are mine now…"

Aegwynn giggled and threw herself into Elan's arms, her full figure pressing tightly against the Archmage's chest under her mage robes.

The entire Stormwind Keep was filled with a pink, romantic atmosphere, and soon, the heavy breathing of a man and the delicate moans of a woman could be heard.

…

Byrnise clenched his fists, dismissed the guards on duty, and sat alone in the corridor outside Stormwind Keep.

"Damn it, damn it, that lewd woman who indulges in debauchery in broad daylight, how dare she, how dare she on my throne…"

The unbearable sounds coming from the hall fueled the Lionheart King's anger.

But he endured it silently, because he knew that he couldn't afford to provoke that promiscuous harlot. If he angered her, the entire kingdom would be destroyed by her ruthless magic.

This young and promising, wise and mighty Lionheart King, in the eyes of the people, was now like a helpless child.

He squatted on the ground, holding his head in his hands, muttering to himself. This was a sign of an adult about to collapse.

"I still need to endure, yes, I still need to endure, I must clear all obstacles for my Llane…"

At this moment, Lionheart King's tiger eyes were filled with tears as he sobbed silently. This vast kingdom was suffocating him.

"Heh heh, trolls… compared to those bloodthirsty gnolls, they are just a minor ailment…

Nobles, Stromgarde, and the bastards of Lordaeron, wait, my little lion will burn you all to ashes."

This Lionheart King was like a patient with split personality, hysterical.

Time passed slowly.

"I'm sorry… Elan."

The Lionheart King muttered in a dim voice.

The poor King, if he were a mage, even a mid-level mage, would be able to see that his best friend was not a lustful ghost indulging in debauchery in broad daylight.

He was just under the Guardian's profound illusion magic - Charm Human.

…

Byrnise stood up, wiped away his tears expressionlessly, smoothed out the wrinkled dress, and then walked out with a smile.

"Tom, good lad! The order of Stormwind City depends on you to maintain it."

"For the glory of the King!"

The sheriff named Tom raised his head and saluted with his chest out. Passing in front of him was the most sublime belief in his heart.

The lion-like man in front of him was the beloved King, the Stormwind Lionheart King who would never fall!

…

Un'Goro Crater, Marshal's Stand.

"When did I become a prince's tutor?"

Aier scratched his head and continued reading.

The young man frowned and skipped large sections of text. It wasn't that His Highness's rhetoric wasn't flowery enough, nor was it that Kael'thas's literary literacy was low, but the things he wrote were unsightly.

"So the licking dog attribute has always existed?"

Aier finished reading with a dark face, because he found that the entire letter, apart from the lengthy and extensive praise, only had a tiny bit of useful information.

"Dalaran Academic Seminar? All the magisters of Silvermoon City will participate?"

The young man stroked his smooth chin and thought quietly.

'Why invite me? And how could His Highness address me as a tutor? It's really a confusing plot.'

'But…'

The light of the flame lit up, and the letter in his hand turned to ashes. A playful smile appeared on the corner of the young man's mouth.

'It's time to harvest some leeks.'

…

"Hey, hey, hey, can the old man hear me?"

The young man fiddled with the gorgeous round mirror in his hand, saying something loudly.

This round mirror came from the Quel'Thalas court. Saying it was a round mirror was more like a well-crafted work of art.

The young man's face in the round mirror began to blur. Amidst a burst of strange crackling sounds, Belovael's old face slowly became clear.

"You brat! Do you still remember that you have a grandfather!"

Aier covered his buzzing ears and accompanied him with a flattering smile.

"Do you know how desperate I was when you were swept away by the spatial turbulence!"

The old man continued to roar on the other side.

"Your parents died early, if you have any shortcomings…"

"Hey, hey, hey, are you done yet?"

Aier looked at Belovael with a black line on his face, crying on one side and secretly peeking at himself on the other.

"He's a 2500-year-old antique, his acting skills are so bad"

Aier curled his lips.

"How do you talk to your grandfather?"

Belovael put down his hand covering his eyelids, and finally couldn't control himself and laughed loudly.

"You brat, why did you think of contacting me, this lonely old man? I heard that you made a lot of noise in that mountain place, and in a few months, the former Father of the Warts has been praised as the founder of arcane arts in the new era."

The Speaker ridiculed his grandson with a look of disdain, but he couldn't help but smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Is it about the blood petal flower and Jin Ke La? Well, I should have thought of it earlier. Those adventurers who don't get up early for nothing are all big mouths. I was going to give you and His Majesty the Sun King a surprise when I went back."

The young man spread his hands and said helplessly.

"Okay, Speaker, we'll have plenty of time to exchange pleasantries after I return to Quel'Thalas. What I want to know is…"

The young man rubbed his eyebrows and continued:

"As far as I know, the last and only academic seminar between Dalaran and Quel'Thalas was 2700 years ago, when the Tirisfal Council was just established. The organizer was the first Guardian, Alodi.

So… why?"

Aier looked at his grandfather. Seeing that Belovael didn't answer, he continued:

"Is it a political game between His Majesty Anasterian and Antonidas… right?"

Belovael was silent, but Aier got the answer he wanted from the old man's eyes.

"Blood petal flower?"

"And the secret recipe for Jin Ke La and Jin Ke La 2.0…"

Belovael sighed, looking at Aier with complicated eyes, wanting to say something but stopping.

"Aier, I am first the Grand Magister of Quel'Thalas, the Speaker of the Silvermoon Council, and then your grandfather. The interests of the country… are above all else."

Belovael said sadly.

"Okay, I understand. At the end of this month, I will go to Dalaran to participate in this seminar."

Aier's face was ashen, and he was about to disperse the communication magic on the round mirror.

But Belovael's old voice came from the round mirror again.

"So I, as the Grand Magister of Quel'Thalas and the Speaker of the Silvermoon Council, order you…"

Belovael's originally sad face suddenly cleared up. He smiled with relief and looked at Aier lovingly.

"Honorary Councilor Aier, be yourself and let those dirty politics get as far away as possible!"

The young man stared blankly at the bright mirror surface until Hermit called him to eat dinner in the distance, and then he woke up.

"When did the old man learn to cook chicken soup…"

A soft chuckle, and then a hearty laugh sounded.

"But to be fair, chicken soup is really delicious…"