On the frozen throne of death, frost and frost, the High Lord looked at the helmet and sword in front of him, and he did not immediately reach out to take them.

He took a step back and sat down on the frozen throne covered in frost shards, the moment he touched the throne, his spirit seemed to merge with the Icecrown glacier beneath the feet of the entire Scourge Legion, and he could clearly feel every wisp of cold wind rolling on this ancient glacier, and every trace of falling snow splashing on the ground.

He seems to be one with the cold will of this land, and perhaps with the Helm of Domination, he can easily control all the ghosts on this land, control the entire Scourge Legion, and bring them into his control and system.

But he won't do that...

For Tyrion now, the Helm of Domination would be a good collector's item, but it was not necessary, because from the beginning, he had not used coercion to restrain his brothers and warriors, the Dark Blade... There is no need for that kind of coercion.

The Great Lord paid more attention to the legendary magic sword.

He rested his hands on the armrests of the Ice Throne, then propped his left hand on his cheek, his ice-blue eyes looking at Frost Sorrow and the Orc Death Knight holding Frost Sorrow, and after a moment, he asked:

"I've heard that Neozu chose you as the sword-bearer of Frost Sorrow, and I know how important a good weapon is to a warrior, and I'm sure you won't know what it means to hold this sword, so why would you give it up, Grom?"

Faced with this question, a trace of helplessness flashed on the rough cheeks of the Death Knight under the frost helmet, and his fingers stroked the blade and blade of the frost sorrow, and then said in a cold voice like the north wind:

"As we all know, I am a warrior, even after death."

"I can feel the power of the ruling power that dominates all spirits when I hold this sword, but it doesn't quite match my style, this sword is good, it's powerful, but..."

"It's not strong enough, Great Lord, when I hold it, it's like I'm holding a crystal sword, and I don't even dare to use all my strength to slash... I know that if I did that, it would most likely be... Shattered. ”

Grom's voice revealed a sense of helplessness, and the frost sorrow in his hand also kept humming aggrieved, no way, compared to its brother Apocalypse, the frost sorrow was not originally a warrior weapon used in the frontal battlefield, if the brutal Apocalypse was a warlike knight, then the frost sorrow was a strategic commander.

The two magic swords have their own advantages, but they also have their own shortcomings.

"Okay, okay."

Grom's reason is irrefutable to the High Lord, indeed, of the vast majority of legendary weapons that have come into existence so far, the power of Frostmourn is considered the top of these weapons, but its sturdiness... It is estimated that it will not even rank in the top ten, and when those ancient Nasrezm demons forged it, they probably didn't even think about holding this sword and going to battle.

"Then I'll... You're welcome. ”

As he spoke, the High Lord stretched out his fingers with black gloves and held them on the hilt of Frost Sorrow's sword, at the moment of contact, Frost Sorrow's silent soul was still a little resistant, it had not forgotten the last contact with the High Lord, it was not an experience that made Frost Sorrow feel pleasant, but it seemed to know that this was its destiny in this world.

Therefore, after a second, the sword of evil spirits let out a low hum, and endless blue cold air floated up on the body of this sword like ice, and the seven necromantic runes on both sides of the blade were lit up one after another, and the Great Lord sat upright on the Ice Throne, letting the pale cold air envelop his body, he leaned on the side of his leg, and held the hilt of the sword with one hand, looking ahead, and the eternal silence majesty of the Great Lord of the Dead realm erupted at this moment.

And in the mid-air of this platform, the ghost owl Moon Claw domesticated by the Great Lord, this pet with the same heart as the Great Lord, grabbed a magic stone in his claws, saying that it was too late, that time was fast, at the moment when the momentum of the Great Lord's sword unity reached its peak, this scene was accurately captured into the Philosopher's Stone, and a few seconds later, this domineering leaking magic image appeared in the magic image sequence of the Blood Master, other Death Lords, and several bear children of the Dawn Blade family.

For a while, all kinds of voices sounded in the spiritual mind of the Great Lord, and to sum it up, it was probably the following.

"The boss is domineering!"

"My husband is so handsome!"

"Daddy is cool!"

"Tyrion! When will you take me to the Ice Throne to play! The dead world is so boring!! ”

"Boss, your sword is handsome, I'll exchange my holy sword with you! 8 into the new holy sword! You can also clone / Soul Eater! ”

Tyrion smiled, ignoring the congratulatory sentiments, and simply replied to the two beauties who tried to "trade in the old for the new":

"Oh, don't change! You can't control it..."

After saying that, he flicked his fingers, and the blue frost sorrow was thrown into the weapon space he had specially opened up, where the bad guy Apocalypse, who had long been impatient, couldn't wait to "chat" with his brother he hadn't seen for a long time.

He stood up, reached out and took the Helm of Domination, and then said to Grom in front of him:

"I won't take you for nothing, after completing the Immortal Conversion, go to the logistics office to find Gasseris, he will give you enough materials, and then go to the Molten Heart to find Magni and Thorrison, and the two of them will make you a suitable battle axe."

"The Order's legendary weapon is called Shadow Sorrow, what a broken name! Your tomahawk is called..."

"Bloody roar!"

Grom interrupted the High Lord's interest in naming the weapon, and the stubborn orc said calmly:

"The battle axes of the Hellroar family have only one name, and it's called Bloodroar!"

"Okay, whatever you want."

The High Lord shrugged his shoulders, he glanced at the spirit Nao Zu suspended in mid-air behind him, and said:

"Glokush has never been very willing to represent the orc civilization in the Forgotten Kings, he is essentially a warrior, belongs to the frontline battlefield, and does not like to touch politics very much, so when you complete the conversion, Naozu, there is a chair of you in the Council of the Forgotten Kings, will you refuse?"

In mid-air, the illusory old orc Nao Zu bent down and bowed, and said in a relieved voice:

"So, as you wish."

"Well, that's good."

The High Lord walked to the edge of the Ice Throne's Ice Ring Platform, where he stood and looked at the dead silence of the Icecrown below, and after a few seconds, he waved his hand:

"The Scourge's Legion will be reorganized from today, selecting the most powerful undead in this frosty land to join the Dark Blade's combat system, this matter will be done by the Seven Heroes of Draenor, I will give you 7 battle bands, and the undead who have been eliminated will be sent to the Death Realm, waiting for the Tree of Reincarnation to re-inject them into the world... Then unleash the Mist of Death and seal off Icecrown once and for all! ”

"From now on, this will be Azeroth's only entrance to the Underworld's hellish dimension!"

"The living... No near! ”

——————————————————————————

"It hurts... It hurts! ”

"It hurts!"

"It's over, it's over! It hurts! ”

A helpless and painful roar came from the mutilated soul in the hands of the Great Lord, this originally powerful soul was only left with a fragmented core, as if it had been brutally thrown into a meat grinder, tearing the whole soul apart, gluing it apart, tearing it apart, gluing it again, and it seemed that it had been taken out as a trophy of several important pieces, so that it could not become whole.

The soul of this Eredar demon was distorted, and it was clear that the people who tortured him had an extremely terrible hatred for him, otherwise no soul with a mind would torture a vanquished like this.

He is Kil'Gardan, the Grand Demon of the Burning Legion, the true King of Demons, the Hand of the Dark Titans.

In the dawn of Sulama's fall, the body of the deceiver was completely destroyed by the Knight of Damnation, and his soul should have completely fallen on the land that had been infested with the twisted void, but he did not.

The deceiver's usual shrewdness and cunning, and his penchant for doing everything ahead of time saved his soul, and the moment his body's evil power exploded and fell, his soul was torn open, half crushed by Viren, and more than half teleported back to his loyal servants.

But alas, the Archdemon's calculations didn't really save him, because...

His minions, from the very beginning of this bad game, even before the game began, were never loyal to him.

"It's miserable."

The Great Lord leaned against his black iron throne, or this somewhat old throne suited him, the frozen throne looked mighty and domineering, but the throne was really not comfortable at all. At this time, he held a glass of fine ice blood wine in his left hand, and in the other hand he looked at the miserable remnant soul, looking at the fraudster Kilgardan who had truly come to an end.

"Nao Zu is really a ruthless man, he really does what he says."

Tyrion poured the cold wine into his mouth, and as he savored the fishy sweetness, he said:

"He took revenge, and returned to you the torture you did to his soul back then, multiplied by ten times, if it weren't for the fact that I still have some questions to ask you, I'm afraid he would have chopped up your soul and fed the cheap ghouls, so, in a sense, I saved you."

As he spoke, the Great Lord stretched out his finger and touched the remnant soul in front of him, accompanied by the infusion of cold and pure soul power, Tyrion used the means of death to fill the broken soul in front of him little by little, just like a master of miniature carving, under the exquisite technique, after a few minutes, he barely put together the deranged soul fragments in his hand.

But this soul is missing a lot of fragments, it seems that Neozu still intercepted something from Kil'Gardan's soul as a "souvenir", of course, it doesn't matter, anyway, it doesn't hurt, Tyrion doesn't have any obsessive-compulsive disorder, he doesn't need Kil'Gardan's soul to be completely complete, he just needs him to come to his senses and answer a few of his little questions, that's all.

"Hey, stop howling, man."

Tyrion whispered:

"Sober up, I'm going to ask you a few questions."

The will of the Great Lord blew away the confusion of Kil'Gardan's soul like a cold winter wind, so that the illusory and small soul of the Great Demon raised its head in the next moment, and the last trace of bitterness in his eyes dissipated, replaced by a gritted hatred.

"Tyrion! You sinister bastard! ”

The fraudster stood in the palm of the High Lord's hand, and he roared sharply:

"Thou hast corrupted the great legions with darkness, and thy wickedness will bring destruction! My death is nothing, the master of the devil will come to do what we have not been able to do, you can't protect your pathetic world! ”

"The Dark Pantheon is coming! Hahahaha! ”

The remnant of the Great Demon was like crazy, and he screamed:

"Naozu is your lackey, isn't he? You win, I really didn't count that, but it doesn't matter, that idiot thinks he won? You think you won? To hell with it! ”

"I've sent all your plots back to Argus! Master Agrama already knows everything! ”

"You! Nao Zu! Casanatire and its stupid traitors! Saloras and Oreses, those two sluts! All! All your conspiracies! I've told the Fallen Titans, and the Dark Titans will soon know all of this! You're done! ”

"You're done! Did you hear that? Kill me! Kill me, my death will bring your end, and I will watch you suffer in hell! Hahahaha! I'm the winner! ”

The series of roars seemed like a real defiant provocation, but unfortunately, when the fraudster threw his last counterattack to the High Lord, he didn't see a trace of fear on Tyrion's face, but instead there was a hint of calm in those ice-blue eyes.

It was as if all of this was in his plan.

"Finished?"

The Great Lord put the red wine glass to his lips, and he asked softly:

"You really told Agrama and Sargeras everything? Do you have what it takes? ”

"Hah! You're underestimating me! ”

The deceiter gritted his teeth, and his soul, which had been completely transformed into a demonic form, snorted coldly:

"My connection with Argus is deep in the soul, and everything I see, Argus will know! You're done! Fear, enjoy your final victory, for the end of the world... It's coming! ”

"It's so nice..."

The Great Lord drank the blood wine from the wine glass, he nodded with satisfaction, he leaned on the throne in a more comfortable posture, he looked at the fraudster, and said:

"Thank you..."

"I've been worried about how to get the Dark Pantheon of Sargeras here, you've done me a great favor, man."

"Also, look at you, naively thought you were going to hell? Don't be silly. ”

The Grand Lord shrugged:

"Hell is in my hands, and I'll tell you..."

"You, fraudster, you'll never want to get the real thing..."

"Rest in peace!"