The plaza fell into a dead silence. The Pandaren monks stared open-mouthed, first at Frostmourne in Arthas's hand, then at the dissipating remnants of the Sha leader. Shock was written across every face. The head monk hurried forward, bowing deeply to Arthas, his eyes shining with sudden hope.
"Thank you for your timely intervention, traveler! I am Gen Shi, the Abbot of the Temple of the Jade Serpent. This Sha of Doubt has plagued us for days; dozens of disciples and surrounding creatures have been corrupted. We exhausted our Chi just to hold the line, yet you ended it with a single strike. Your power is truly divine!"
Arthas sheathed his blade, the frost receding. He liked the Pandaren—not just because of old memories, but because most were humble, polite, and spoke in a way that made one feel at ease.
"Why did these Sha erupt so suddenly?" Arthas asked. "Their energy fluctuations are unstable, as if they weren't naturally triggered."
Gen Shi's joy faded, replaced by gravity. Though sharing such secrets was technically against the rules, rules were static while people were dynamic. In the face of absolute power, many rules could be bent.
"Your eyes see much. Half a month ago, a disciple found an ancient altar in the restricted area behind the mountain. Sealed upon it was a 'Remorseful Jade,' said to be formed from ancient grievances. A disciple touched it accidentally, loosening the seal. That leaked power stirred the Sha lurking beneath Pandaria's soil. The negativity nourished them, making them violent enough to begin infecting the minds of those nearby."
He pointed to the fallen creatures—Pandaren, cranes, and even several hozen and sprites. Looking at his fallen students, the Abbot's voice grew heavy.
"The infected lose their sanity. If not purified in time, they become nothing more than fuel for the Sha. We tried using Chi to cleanse them, but with little success. Since you possess such strength, surely you have a way to deal with this. Please, save the Temple of the Jade Serpent and the creatures of this forest!"
It was a bold request—asking for more favors immediately after someone had already helped—but Gen Shi felt he had no choice. If they waited for the Shado-Pan, they might not arrive in time, and even they struggled with the Sha. He bowed again, his voice urgent.
"I am willing to gift you the Temple's 'Mind-Soothing Lotus.' It calms the spirit and resists mental corruption—it would benefit you and your companions greatly. Furthermore, I can teach you our secret Chi techniques to harmonize your internal energies. If you require other resources, the Temple will do its utmost to provide!"
Had he not achieved godhood, Arthas might have been interested in martial arts. But now, having surpassed the level of a demigod, he had little use for Monk skills.
Task Triggered: Sha Slayer.
Sha Slayer: Use the Heart of Darkness to absorb the seven Sha of Pandaria: Fear, Despair, Anger, Doubt, Violence, Hatred, and Pride.
Reward: Y'Shaarj's exclusive Emotion-to-Power Conversion ability.
The sudden appearance of the system after such a long silence was surprising.
"Y'Shaarj's exclusive power? Now that's interesting." Arthas stroked his chin, appearing to be in deep thought. The Pandaren elder watched him anxiously, hoping for a "yes."
In truth, Arthas was pondering why Y'Shaarj was the strongest of the four Old Gods. It seemed this method of converting raw emotion into power was unique. After all, everything has a spirit, and everything feels.
A worm feels fear when caught by a bird; a bird feels triumph; a mother feels strength for her child; a survivor feels lost when their kin dies. These emotions are the cheapest and most abundant "fuel" in the universe. Everyone has them, but only Y'Shaarj knew how to harvest them. To become the head of the Old Gods through such "cheap" energy... that was indeed impressive.
Shandris looked at her father, her eyes asking for direction. She never interfered with his decisions.
Did she pity the Pandaren? Yes. Shandris was inherently kind, but she wasn't a fool or a martyr. She would help if it were within her power and didn't require unreasonable sacrifice. Helping them now was a simple matter of convenience.
Helya leaned in and whispered, "Master, these Sha are remnants of Y'Shaarj's death. They aren't easily erased. If the Titans could have found a way to truly destroy the Old Gods back then, they wouldn't have resorted to sealing them."
"It's not that hard," Arthas replied quietly. "Don't forget we have the Goddess Aionhara. As the Will of the World, destroying an Old God isn't impossible. Besides, Y'Shaarj has been dead for ages. No matter how potent his lingering malice is, it's still just a remnant. I know what I'm doing."
Arthas looked toward the back of the mountain. Frostmourne vibrated slightly, sensing the power of the Remorseful Jade. He looked at Gen Shi. "Take me to the restricted area. I want to see this jade. If I can solve the Sha problem permanently, I will accept your offer."
Gen Shi was overjoyed. "Thank you! This way, please!"
The Temple of the Jade Serpent was a masterpiece of classical eastern architecture. Walking through its halls, Arthas felt a flash of nostalgia. It had been a long time.
They passed through a lush bamboo forest, the rustle of leaves bringing a sense of inner peace—the very thing needed to counter the violent influence of the Sha. The Sha can only manipulate the living; they have no power over mindless constructs like robots. The Titans likely took this into account when forging their armies.
Arriving at a towering hall at the back of the mountain, Gen Shi bowed to the empty gate. "May the departed souls be at peace. Honored guests, this is the restricted zone. Usually, it is guarded by the Shado-Pan, but due to recent troubles elsewhere, the guards were reassigned. We were left to watch it... and we failed. The jade inside is the cause of all this."
"Fortunately, the seal hasn't been completely shattered. Otherwise, all of Pandaria would be swallowed by the mists."
Gen Shi looked desolate. He blamed himself for the deaths of his disciples. Why did this happen now, after centuries of peace? He didn't blame Arthas's arrival; Pandaren do not blame outsiders for their own misfortunes unless there is clear evidence. They look inward for the cause.
"Stay here and guard the door," Arthas commanded as he pushed the heavy gates open.
Inside, a thick, cloying fog filled the hall, so dense one couldn't see their own hand. The fog pressed against the door but was held back by a faint barrier. From within the mist came a roar—not of a beast, but something inexplicable and unpredictable. Perception was suppressed to its absolute minimum.
To a Monk who relies on their senses, this was lethal. To Arthas, it was a joke. No Sha, no matter how powerful, could compare to a demigod.
"Father, does this mist remind you of the fog surrounding Pandaria?" Shandris asked. Without outsiders present, she reverted to her playful self.
"Similar, but much weaker," Arthas explained. "The Sha are split into seven: Doubt, Despair, Anger, Violence, Hatred, Fear, and Pride."
"When we entered, did you see the expression on that monk apprentice? It was a look of utter hopelessness. That emotion birthed the Sha here. This temple is likely home to the Sha of Despair. It won't be hard to deal with, though we shouldn't make it look too easy. We should look like we're at least trying."
"But with your strength, is that even necessary?" Shandris tilted her head, looking adorable in her confusion.
As she spoke, the mist condensed into a massive, pitch-black claw that lunged at her. The hand was larger than she was; if it hit, a normal elf would have been crushed instantly.
Clang!
Frostmourne unsheathed itself. The runic blade sliced through the air, bisecting the intangible hand. A pained howl echoed through the fog. This blade, forged by the Primus of the Shadowlands, had been reinforced by the World-Soul and the system. It no longer controlled the user; instead, it could absorb vengeful spirits and emotional energy like the Sha.
As the claw was severed, the fog began to retreat. Frostmourne hungrily sucked in the trailing vapors.
A roar echoed through the hall as the eyes of the Sha of Despair appeared—crimson orbs radiating a power that stole one's will. To look into them for more than five seconds was to feel an overwhelming sense of futility.
This outbreak was actually tied to the arrival of the Naga. When the vanguard annihilated the combined forces of the local tribes, the sheer power displayed by the invaders had driven the survivors into a state of total despair. Those thousands of warriors provided the "fuel" that allowed the imprisoned Sha of Despair to break its bonds and corrupt the temple.
Arthas pulled out a palm-sized disk—the Heart of Darkness from Neltharion's vault. A Titan artifact designed to absorb any form of energy: Holy, Shadow, Nature, Death, Arcane, or Fel. Its capacity was vast. If filled, it could provide enough power to stabilize a portal between Azeroth and the Void for an entire army.
For absorbing some lingering Sha energy? It was more than enough.