Elven cultivators

The passageway was dimly lit, with a low-hanging dome.

Water droplets condensing on the rock face occasionally dripped down, making a clear pattering sound in the silence, which made the surrounding darkness seem even deeper.

A group of Dilo dwarves were walking along the passageway.

The group consisted of more than twenty people, all of them sturdy, with broad shoulders and thick backs, wearing heavy leather armor inlaid with iron plates, and holding war hammers, two-handed axes or maces.

Despite the gloomy and dark surroundings, the Dilo dwarves seemed completely unconcerned, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

"Those pointy-eared creatures finally managed to crawl out of those broken shells."

The dwarf at the front grinned, revealing a set of uneven, yellow teeth.

A long, old scar ran across his face, diagonally from his brow to his left cheek, making him look particularly fierce and terrifying.

"I thought they were going to cower until they died."

"That's right," a Dilo dwarf chimed in from behind. "They've been relying on those lumps of iron all day long, but this time we can finally have a real fight."

"I always heard how powerful the surface elves were, but now they seem to be nothing special," another Dilo dwarf sneered. "A bunch of useless cowards who only know how to hide behind iron lumps. They don't even have the guts to fight us head-on. Without those iron lumps, let's see what they have to fight us with!"

The crowd burst into laughter.

Rough laughter echoed through the passageway, carrying far and wide.

For those born and raised in dark regions, the gloomy and cramped environment, the uneven terrain, and the rock formations that could collapse at any moment are as commonplace as breathing.

This dark underground world nourished them and taught them how to survive in this barren and brutal land.

In their view, no matter how powerful those elves from the surface were, they were still outsiders.

Stepping into the Dark Territory is like stepping into a natural hunting ground.

And they are the true masters of this hunting ground.

Therefore, upon hearing that Nine Nether City was mobilizing its army and planning a direct confrontation with Crimson Blood Fertile Land, they were not alarmed but delighted, and immediately requested to go into battle with great enthusiasm, intending to teach those surface elves a lesson.

Over time, they had grown tired of dealing with those iron lumps every day and were constantly craving the enemy's blood and screams.

"The Underdark is not a place those surface bastards can set foot in. They can't even find their way around here, how can they fight us?"

"If we were to meet them head-on, one charge would crush them!"

"If we encounter them later, don't kill them all right away. Leave a few alive. I've always wanted to get an elven slave..."

The last sentence elicited knowing chuckles from the other dwarves.

In the Underdark, many subterranean races have the custom of keeping slaves.

The Dilo dwarves were no exception.

Their brutal racial nature made them relish the torment and abuse of slaves.

Every year, a considerable number of slaves die as a result.

And if we're talking about the slaves they want most, then without a doubt they'd be the dark elves.

Unfortunately, the dark elves are vengeful and will retaliate by any means necessary if anyone dares to capture one of their own kind as a slave—even a lowly male dark elf.

Over time, no faction dared to openly keep dark elf slaves.

However, since we cannot keep dark elf slaves, it would be good to use their surface races as substitutes.

While surface elves lack the ruthlessness and arrogance ingrained in the dark elves, making them less satisfying to conquer, they are more visually appealing and offer less of the risk of prolonged and insidious retaliation.

The Dilo dwarves exchanged glances, each already planning their next move after capturing the elf, their voices tinged with eagerness.

Just then, the scarred dwarf suddenly noticed something amiss and immediately raised his hand, signaling everyone to stop.

"Watch out, there's trouble ahead."

More than twenty Dilo dwarves stopped abruptly, composed themselves, gripped their weapons, and looked ahead warily.

At the end of the passageway, a grayish-white mist was quietly spreading along the ground.

"What is that?"

The Dilo dwarves looked at each other, bewildered and uncertain.

The scarred dwarf sensed something was wrong and was about to order a retreat when the mist suddenly accelerated, like a gray-white curtain being violently torn open, enveloping them.

Immediately afterwards, seven or eight blurry figures rushed out of the fog.

They hovered a few inches above the ground, clad in armor and helmets covering their faces, with only two eerie green spots visible around their eyes, flickering slightly in the darkness like two undying will-o'-the-wisps.

What's alarming is that they charged at a speed far exceeding that of ordinary infantry.

Moreover, they completely ignore the undulations and obstacles on the ground; protruding sharp rocks and ridges pass directly through their bodies without affecting their charge in the slightest.

In the blink of an eye, these phantom monsters had already attacked the Dilo dwarves.

A dwarf cried out in surprise and instinctively swung his axe down hard at the phantom figure charging at the front.

The battle axe whistled through the air, but the expected metallic clang did not occur.

The axe blade pierced straight through the translucent body, as if cutting into a shadow without substance.

The dwarf Dilo was startled. His arm swayed slightly forward as he missed his target, and before he could regain his balance, a cold blade of light fell and struck his shoulder heavily.

The dwarf Dilo let out a muffled groan and staggered backward, glancing at the wound on his shoulder out of the corner of his eye.

The wound had an abnormal grayish-white color, the skin and flesh were losing blood, and the edges were white and dry, as if something had drained the color of blood from it.

A chilling coldness spread from the wound outwards, seeping into his chest along his shoulder blade, causing him to shiver involuntarily, and making the battle axe in his hand feel heavier.

"Damn it!" he gritted his teeth and shouted, "What the hell are these things?"

As soon as they finished speaking, more semi-transparent figures clad in armor and wielding swords suddenly emerged from the rock walls on both sides of the passage and the ground behind them, silently attacking them.

In the blink of an eye, the Dilo dwarves were completely surrounded in the narrow passageway.

Chaos erupted in an instant.

The Dilo dwarves swung their weapons to slash at the translucent monsters, but each attack felt like hitting a weightless fog.

Warhammers smashed through their chests, maces cracked their helmets, and axes severed their arms...

But those wounds healed in the blink of an eye, like gathered smoke reforming its shape.

The ghost soldiers' counterattack was merciless; each strike of their long and short swords left a pale wound on the victims.

Although the wounds were not deep, the chilling aura they contained was constantly seeping into their bodies, causing their movements to become visibly slow and stiff, and their bodies to be gradually drained of warmth.

"What the hell is this thing?!"

"Damn it! My attacks are useless against them!"

"Retreat! Retreat back!"

Exclamations and screams rose and fell.

The scarred dwarf swung his axe, smashing the helmet of a ghost soldier with all his might.

However, the figure of the ghostly soldier only dimmed slightly for a moment, then quickly gathered again like a wisp of smoke that had been dispersed, and returned to its original state.

Seeing this scene, the scarred dwarf felt a chill he had never felt before.

Even when facing hordes of dark elves, he had never felt so powerless as he did at this moment.

What exactly is this thing?

ghost?

I've never heard of ghosts wearing armor and carrying swords!

The monsters before them launched a dense and silent attack. They did not roar or scream, and even when attacked, they did not make any sound of pain, nor even breathe.

They simply remained silent and continued to launch attacks.

But it was precisely this appearance that made the Dilo dwarves even more terrified.

They would rather fight their enemies head-on, drawing blood, than get entangled with this monster that they could never defeat.

In the blink of an eye, half of the Dilo dwarves had fallen.

Most of them did not have fatal wounds, but their bodies were stiff, their faces were ashen, and they were curled up on the rocky ground as if they were frozen alive, unable to even straighten their fingers.

The remaining Dilo dwarves were terrified and lost all will to fight, turning to flee.

After finally breaking through, they were devastated to discover that the monsters in the treacherous tunnels were faster and more agile than they were.

They couldn't get far before they were caught up. As the blade sliced ​​through them, their bodies stiffened and they fell to the ground, never to move again.

After a moment, the passageway fell silent.

The bodies of more than twenty Dilo dwarves lay scattered on the ground, their broken armor and shattered blades strewn about.

The ghostly soldiers hovered silently in mid-air, their eerie green eyes slowly scanning the mess on the ground. After confirming that there were no more living targets, their figures gradually faded away, like scattered ashes, disappearing into the thin mist.

The mist then quickly contracted and disappeared into the two soul-gathering banners stuck in the ground behind the corner of the passageway.

The dark red patterns on the banner glowed slightly for a moment, as if it had swallowed something, before fading away again.

Ryan reached out and pulled out the Soul Gathering Banner, a hint of emotion appearing on his face: "In the Dark Regions, the Yin Soldiers are indeed far more useful than the Yellow Turban Warriors."

Evan, standing to the side, also pulled out the Soul Gathering Banner and said with a smile, "The Yin energy in the Underdark is heavy. In such a place, the combat power of the Yin soldiers is 30 to 40 percent higher than that of the surface world. Even the speed of soul condensation and repair after being injured is much faster. This place is indeed very suitable for the Yin soldiers to perform well."

In terms of combat power alone, the lower-quality wandering ghost soldiers are actually not as good as the Yellow Turban Warriors.

However, in terms of killing efficiency in dark areas, the Yellow Turban Warriors are far inferior to the Ghost Soldiers.

Whether searching for or killing enemies, the ghost soldiers have advantages that the Yellow Turban warriors cannot match.

As they spoke, the two swiftly collected all the valuable items on the battlefield and stuffed them into their storage bags.

In no time, the two of them had finished cleaning up the battlefield.

"Let's go, keep looking for other enemies." Evan dusted off his hands.

"Mm," Ryan replied.

The two did not linger and continued walking along the passageway, their footsteps soon disappearing into the darkness.

Meanwhile, similar scenes are also taking place in many places at the border between Crimson Blood Fertile Land and Nine Nether City.

Narrow passageways, cramped cracks, and abandoned mine shafts crisscrossing like a maze... the complex terrain that the Fertile Soil Alliance once regarded as a natural advantage has now become the best hunting ground for the ghost soldiers.

They disregard the obstruction of rock strata and are not restricted by the direction of the passage. They can appear at any time from above, below, or on the side walls, always attacking from the most unexpected direction of the enemy.

The underground soldiers, accustomed to fighting with flesh and blood, were often routed and wiped out in just a few encounters when faced with these monsters that were fearless of weapons and pain.

The underground coalition, which had hoped to take advantage of the Nine Nether City's initiative to launch a fierce and decisive battle, suffered a head-on blow from the ghost soldiers before they even truly met the elves.