Elven cultivators

Two or three hundred lizardmen charged at the same time, their roars deafening, creating an extremely terrifying scene.

The nearby elves all gasped in shock, their faces showing expressions of horror.

"Help! Save them!"

Although she disapproved of Anton's usual behavior, Eleanor was the first to react in the crucial moment. She shouted, raised her staff, and uttered an obscure incantation, as pale blue magical light rapidly gathered at the tip of the staff.

The surrounding spirits seemed to awaken from a dream and immediately set out to provide assistance.

Finn and Rosalyn, standing in front of the light screen, also changed their expressions and immediately sent a message, ordering the nearest guards to rush to the depression.

Of all the people, only Roman remained calm and stood still.

She knew Anton very well, and was well aware that the latter would never do anything without being sure of success. Since he dared to bring the lizardmen here, he must already have a plan to deal with them.

Supporting her judgment was Anton's calm and composed demeanor, even when surrounded.

as predicted.

The next instant, Anton suddenly opened his mouth and let out a clear whistle like a dragon's roar.

The howling sound was completely different from the previous one; it was higher and sharper, carrying a kind of eerie power that was captivating.

In an instant, countless tangible sound waves suddenly appeared, sweeping outwards from him in all directions.

The air seemed to be stirred by an invisible giant hand, displaying visible twists and ripples.

The elves, who were rushing towards the depression, suddenly stumbled, feeling their blood and energy surging and their heads spinning.

Some of the weaker elves were even more pale-faced and swaying, having to lean against trees to avoid falling.

If this was the case even for those who were relatively far away, then the lizardmen, who were at the center of the sonic attack, were even more affected.

Wherever the sonic ripples passed, the charging lizardman seemed to crash into a giant wall, his body involuntarily flying backward, his internal organs seemingly crushed together, blood gushing from his nose and throat, instantly turning the sky crimson.

Bang bang bang!

One after another, the lizardmen were sent flying backward and crashed heavily to the ground.

Some clutched their heads and rolled around frantically, letting out piercing screams.

More often than not, they fall to the ground and remain silent, with bright red blood slowly flowing from their mouths, noses, and ears, pooling into shocking pools of blood beneath them.

In just a few breaths, the depression was already filled with the corpses of lizardmen.

The elves, having caught their breath, stared blankly at the scene before them, their mouths dry and gaping open, unable to process what had happened for a long time.

Eleanor was so shocked that she almost dropped her staff.

Even Roman, who had expected this, couldn't help but stare in astonishment at the scene before him.

What kind of move is this?

Anton had never used it in front of her before!

Finn and Rosalyn, standing in front of the screen, were stunned, their faces filled with shock and disbelief.

"What was that just now...?" Rosalyn's lips trembled slightly.

Finn did not answer; he, too, had never seen such a bizarre and domineering combat technique.

What alarmed him even more was the power that Anton was displaying at that moment.

He could see clearly that after that attack, apart from the elite lizardmen of the Black Iron rank, almost all the other lizardmen were dead.

A single strike could instantly kill nearly two hundred lizardmen; even a silver-rank spellcaster might not be able to do that.

In the center of the depression, Anton's expression remained calm and unwavering, as if he had not just killed hundreds of lizardmen, but merely brushed away a fallen leaf.

He pulled the black steel sword from the ground and glanced at the remaining elite Black Iron-tier lizardmen around him.

They are now wobbling as they get up.

The pain did not deter them; instead, it fueled their ferocity. They roared and charged at Anton once more, their yellow vertical pupils burning with savagery and madness.

Undeterred, Anton moved swiftly, like a ghost, to meet the attack.

The fierce sword light tore through the void like lightning. The two lizardmen who charged ahead froze, their heads flying off at an angle, gushing out hot blood.

At the same time, a lizardman approached Anton from behind, its claws slashing down fiercely at the back of his neck, a cruel glint flashing in its murky yellow eyes.

However, just as the claws were about to strike Anton, a dark golden light suddenly flashed across the latter's body!

The dark golden radiance was as thin as a cicada's wing, seemingly fragile enough to be pierced with a single poke. Yet, when a sharp claw, capable of tearing through solid rock, struck it, it produced only a dull thud, as if struck by rotten leather, unable to advance an inch.

Golden armor is forbidden!

The cruelty in the lizardman's eyes instantly turned into astonishment. It exerted its strength, its muscles bulging, but its claws were firmly blocked by the thin layer of dark golden light, and it couldn't even leave a white mark.

laugh!

The sword light then struck, slicing off its head like a hot knife through butter.

Anton's offensive continued relentlessly, charging into the lizard-like horde like a tiger among sheep, his sword flashing as he reaped lives.

The lizardmen either launched a desperate counterattack or flanked from behind to launch a sneak attack, but no matter how they attacked, they could not break through the dark golden glow on Anton's body. They could only watch helplessly as their companions fell one by one under the sword of that terrifying god of death, letting out desperate roars.

Moments later, with a final, short scream, the headless corpse of the last lizardman swayed a few times before collapsing to the ground with a thud.

After the dull thud of the head hitting the ground, there was a deathly silence.

All the elves stared blankly at the figure standing in the center of the depression, sword in hand, and a sense of absurdity, as if in a dream, arose in their minds.

More than two hundred lizardmen, including a double-digit number of elite Black Iron-ranked warriors, were wiped out without any resistance.

The power that Anton was displaying at that moment completely redefined their understanding of "peers"!

Is this still the Anton they know?

After a long silence, Roman was the first to break it.

She jumped down into the depression, came to Anton's side, and whispered, "Didn't we agree to keep it a secret?"

Anton chuckled softly, "Not now."

Roman glanced at him, nodded, and said nothing more.

She was the only one present who knew the details of Anton's "dual cultivation of magic and martial arts," so although she was surprised that he had become much stronger, she was more able to accept the reality before her than the others.

Anton's gaze swept over the lizardman corpses on the ground, then he turned to the elven guards who had arrived unnoticed: "Should we still tally the scores?"

The guards looked at each other, hesitant to speak.

This was the first time they had encountered such a situation, and they didn't know how to handle it for a moment.

Fortunately, Finn and Rosalyn arrived quickly.

The two stared at Anton for a long time, looking him up and down as if he were some strange creature they had never seen before, before Finn announced: The assessment is over, and Anton has won first place.

There was no other way; Anton had wiped out all the lizardmen single-handedly, so the assessment naturally couldn't continue.

There's no need to keep track of points; the combined points of everyone else don't even equal the points Anton has alone.

"The reward will be delivered to your address tomorrow."

Finn spoke gently, showing none of his previous coldness.

Even he couldn't put on airs when faced with such a monstrous genius.

Moreover, he saw in Anton the hope for the clan's return to glory.

Anton readily agreed, nodded slightly, and then pulled Roman away.

He can't stay here; he'll end up becoming a giant panda surrounded by onlookers.

In the crowd, Eleanor stared blankly at Anton's figure, her heart filled with mixed emotions.

She once thought Anton was someone who was hiding his treasure without realizing it, a wasteful and fickle person.

She even regarded him as a rival and secretly vowed to surpass him and prove to her grandfather that she was the better one.

But now it seems so ridiculous that those speculations and obsessions were so laughable.

It's not that Anton doesn't cherish his talent; rather, he has already transformed it into strength, but he simply doesn't bother to show it.

Loss, frustration, shock, shame... a flood of emotions overwhelmed Eleanor, leaving her stunned and at a loss.