Chapter 330: The Shepherds of Xuanyuan

The ones Wu Qingsong planned to send were, of course, the priests of the Xuanyuan Church. After months of training among the Silvermoon Wolf Clan, they had mastered the preaching techniques passed down by Morin through repeated practice. They had also refined their messaging, making it more palatable to the beastkin of the plains.

Having participated in the church’s founding from the very beginning and even personally compiling its scriptures, Morin’s faith was unwavering. His desire to spread the glory of Xuanyuan across the icy plains burned even brighter.

“They’re all good kids!” Even Morin couldn’t help but admit. 

In terms of sheer devotion, he found it hard to match their fervor. Fortunately, as the bishop, he held the church’s second-highest interpretive authority regarding doctrine. With Alice’s powerful support, his preaching remained far more persuasive and infectious than that of the younger priests.

However, preaching in Silvermoon’s domain was still not easy. Beastmen by nature respected strength and bullied the weak, and rabbits were inherently on the weaker side. Most of the time, they had to put in extra effort just to gain the recognition of bearmen, wolfmen, tigermen, and boarmen.

If that was how it was in Silvermoon, one could well imagine the cold reception—or even danger—they would face in the northern tribes.

“That’s why you have to train more dog-man priests,” Wu Qingsong told him. “Better yet, raise local priests from around the Ice Sea. That should make preaching easier. I’ll have these hostages go back with them, so they can teach those people how to open fields and plant alfalfa while they preach. You and Alice also need to travel frequently to different places to spread the faith and treat the beastmen. So while it’s winter, you need to have them all learn these skills and get along well with those hostages. If any of those hostages can be converted, you’ll accomplish twice the result with half the effort.”

“Please rest assured, I’ve already started working on it,” Morin said. “Though for many things, I’ll still need the cooperation of Lady Ram and Lady Ling.”

Wu Qingsong nodded. “I’ve already talked with them. Just submit your plans to them.”

The strategy was clear: gradually shift the beastkin’s perception of Nagrand and the Xuanyuan Church through tangible benefits. By highlighting the privileges enjoyed by believers compared to non-believers, they would attract more nominal converts. Repeated exposure to sermons and religious ceremonies would gradually deepen their faith, eventually transforming them into true believers.

This approach had been the key to Morin’s success in Orgrimmar, and they planned to replicate it.

Becoming a believer meant you could periodically receive salt, rice, and other small gifts from the priests; you got priority in receiving healing from Saintess Alice; if disputes arose, you could count on the Church’s support and protection; you could even buy all sorts of goods from Nagrand’s market and from temples at prices twenty percent cheaper than what others paid. This appealed greatly to many beastmen with a knack for making deals.

Another irresistible incentive lay in the promise of a stable water source. Near every Xuanyuan temple, Nagrand would dig a deep well, ensuring a year-round water supply, powered by a windmill.

But temples couldn’t be built just anywhere. To apply for one from the Xuanyuan Temple in Nagrand, a tribe needed at least two hundred believers. The stone and timber for construction had to be harvested and transported by the believers themselves. They were also responsible for the temple’s construction, with Nagrand providing only a few technical advisors for guidance.

In the plains, a reliable water source was more precious than anything. With water, tribes no longer needed to wander in search of ponds, streams, and grazing lands. Vegetation would flourish, and fields could be cultivated for golden alfalfa. The believers who gathered around the temple would naturally enjoy a more stable and prosperous life.

Moreover, since they would have personally laid each foundation stone, raised each beam, and assembled each wall, they would develop an inherent sense of ownership. Even those who converted solely for material benefits would inevitably grow attached to the temple.

Believers were required to attend sermons at the temple every seven days, learn to sing hymns, and offer prayers to Xuanyuan before every meal, expressing gratitude for His blessings. Any failure to adhere to these practices, if reported, would result in the loss of believer status.

Though seemingly trivial, these rituals reinforced the believers’ identity and subtly reshaped their mindset. This was what Morin admired most about Wu Qingsong’s strategy.

To maintain the privileges they had gained, they had to maintain their distinctive lifestyle. This, in turn, set them apart from beastkin who still clung to their indigenous faiths and customs. Isolated from their former communities, they were forced to form new bonds with fellow believers, strengthening their identification with their new identity.

Once this sense of belonging reached a certain threshold, true faith naturally took root.

From there, another psychological shift would occur. To justify their choices and prove they hadn’t betrayed their ancestors, they would actively spread the teachings they had heard from the priests. They would eagerly share the benefits of becoming a believer with their friends and family—an approach far more convincing than any priest’s sermon.

Unknowingly, their faith would deepen further through this process.

This single strategy alone ensured that, once the Xuanyuan Church gained even a foothold on the plains, it would inevitably supplant the indigenous religions.

Furthermore, the church’s preaching was far from dry indoctrination. More often than not, it resembled a lively storytelling session. The legendary tales narrated by Wu Qingsong and meticulously adapted by Morin captivated the beastkin, whose lives otherwise lacked spiritual entertainment. The hymns were catchy, rich in ceremonial feeling, and easy to remember.

In Orgrimmar, sermons often attracted crowds of children. They not only memorized the stories best but also learned the hymns the fastest. After each sermon, they would customarily receive a piece of honeycomb or a strip of spiced jerky from the priests. Then they would scurry home with it, proudly sharing with their friends and family, and recounting the fun stories they had heard.

Very often, these children became the gateway through which entire households converted to the Xuanyuan faith.

Because so little time had passed, only four temples had been built in the Silvermoon Wolf Clan’s domain. Yet through the tireless efforts of Morin, Alice, and the young priests, the Church’s influence had already quietly taken root.

Although they had to temporarily suspend their proselytizing activities because of the harsh winter, Morin remained full of confidence about the future.

Perhaps in only five years… no, perhaps in just three more years, the Xuanyuan Church would inevitably become the sole faith on this tundra.

And when that time came, he would stand as the holy shepherd of thousands upon thousands of believers—second only to one, yet above all others.