Elven cultivators

The ripples caused by the Taiyin Body did not affect the preparations for war in the Nine Netherworld City.

Spring of the year 9409 in the Dawn Calendar.

The Silvermoon Clan army assembled at the border and then set off towards the Crimson Blood Fertile Land.

Meanwhile, the army of the city-state alliance also gathered and arrayed itself in a natural basin in the central part of the fertile land, ready for battle.

Deep within the basin, in a makeshift command post.

The seven Dark Elf matriarchs of Vion, including Maris, along with twelve city-state lords and other high-ranking officials, gathered together.

Everyone stared intently at the water screen suspended in the air, which displayed a panoramic view of the battlefield in real time.

The atmosphere was unusually heavy.

Everyone was well aware of the importance of this battle.

They have nowhere to retreat.

If they are defeated, their best outcome is to become prisoners.

"Is it really okay to move the battlefield here?"

"It's better than being in the border area; our soldiers are no match for those ethereal puppets."

"At least in places like this, the advantage of those ethereal puppets will be greatly reduced."

"The elves have a small population and insufficient military strength, and cannot withstand too many casualties. As long as we hurt them, even if we can't win, we can try to make peace."

The mushroom lord's words made all the lords' eyes light up.

That's a feasible solution.

If we really can't defeat Jiuyou City, as long as we drag this battle into a bloodbath, and let the other side see that continuing to fight is not worth the cost, there might still be room for maneuver.

Even ceding a portion of territory, or even a portion of the Blood Soul Crystal share, is not out of the question.

It's better than a complete defeat.

Marise watched coldly, saying nothing, only occasionally exchanging glances with the other mistresses.

Just then, the image on the water screen suddenly changed.

A large number of figures emerged from the far end of the screen, like dark waves surging up from the depths of the earth.

The gray-white rock walls were completely obscured by those massive, moving figures, which gradually filled the entire scene, starting from one corner.

"Those alchemical golems..."

Lord Kou Tao, the merman lord, spoke in a deep voice, but stopped abruptly halfway through his sentence, his expression suddenly changing.

The other lords all had similar expressions.

The number of alchemical golems appearing in the scene far exceeded their expectations.

Those dark gold figures formed neat square formations, spreading out layer upon layer, like spilled ink rapidly spreading across the ground, expanding from one corner of the scene and quickly occupying half of the battlefield.

"How is that possible..."

"Why do they still have so many alchemical golems?"

"We've already destroyed so many puppets before..."

The lords were horrified.

In the previous war to attack the Nine Nether City defense line, they destroyed at least a thousand alchemical puppets.

They thought this was already most of the Nine Nether City's wealth.

But now it seems they completely misjudged the number of alchemical golems the other side possessed.

There are at least four or five thousand puppet troops in front of us.

Following closely behind the alchemical golem formation was the elven army.

The elven soldiers stood in neat rows, their steps perfectly synchronized, their armor gleaming, and their weapons gleaming—clearly high-quality magical equipment.

They moved silently, yet their imposing and chilling aura pressed down on them like cold iron.

Seeing this, the faces of all the lords turned ugly.

In previous battles, they had mostly faced alchemical golems, vassal races of Nine Nether City, or small elven armies.

This is the first time I've ever truly witnessed a well-organized elven army.

Well-equipped and well-trained.

This was their first impression of the army.

Even someone with poor eyesight could see the elite and powerful nature of the army before them.

Further back, even more queues were moving forward.

Due to limited visibility, they could not see the details further away.

But those densely packed figures did not stop; they continued to surge towards this side, constantly merging into the battlefield, filling the gaps, and making the enemy's lines even thicker.

The lords remained silent; none of them spoke.

The air in the command center was as heavy as lead.

War soon broke out in silence.

The Yellow Turban Warriors, with heavy and even steps, were the first to press forward, like a dark golden torrent, crashing heavily into the vanguard of the allied army.

As the largest forward in the league, the Stone Golem was able to put up a fight against the scattered Yellow Turban Warriors in previous small-scale conflicts thanks to his thick stone skin and physical advantages.

But at this moment, when the Yellow Turban warriors advanced in dense formations and coordinated with each other in an orderly manner, the physique and brute strength that the Grish people were so proud of were completely inadequate.

Just as a Grärchen raised his warhammer, before he could bring it down, he was attacked from both sides by two Yellow Turban warriors, whose golden maces struck him precisely on either side of his knees.

His stone skin shattered, his thick legs twisted, and he lost his balance and fell forward. Immediately afterward, the third Yellow Turban Warrior stepped forward and brought down his hammer, shattering his head like stone.

With the Yellow Turban Warriors' seamless cooperation, the Grishmen fell one after another like straws being cut.

The forward line was quickly breached.

At the same time, the elven spellcaster behind them began chanting a spell.

Multicolored light quickly poured out from the formation, falling into the densest area of ​​the Alliance army.

Fireballs, ice spikes, and lightning bolts intertwined to form a blinding curtain of light.

Many more elven soldiers took out talismans from leather boxes at their waists and quickly activated them.

In an instant, golden blades, scorching fireballs, lightning, and gales poured down, exploding into clouds of blood mist on the alliance's front line.

In comparison, the Allied forces' firepower output is much weaker.

Most of the attacks were blocked by the Yellow Turban Warriors.

The remaining shockwaves were simply unable to penetrate the elven soldiers' defenses.

In a short time, the casualties of the Allied forces increased dramatically.

The lords' faces turned green with rage.

The enemy's tactics were incredibly simple, yet extremely effective.

The Yellow Turban Warriors acted as the vanguard, using an ironclad line to firmly block the alliance army's advance, while the rear relied on talismans and spells for saturated damage output. Their offense and defense were virtually flawless.

Unless the allied forces can break through the Yellow Turban Warriors' blockade and directly threaten the Elf main camp behind them, they will be stuck in place, suffering the enemy's bombardment.

But achieving this is easier said than done.

Although the Allied forces had superior numbers, they lacked elite strike forces capable of breaching that steel defense line.

Ordinary soldiers often had to suffer several times, or even ten times, more casualties to take down a single Yellow Turban warrior.

Even the elite dark elves could not quickly create a breach in the face of such a dense frontal assault.

The entire allied army was like a giant beast with its front paws chained. It had a huge size and strength, but it could not really charge forward. It could only stand in place and be sliced ​​to pieces.

The only solution is to rely on superior troop strength to wear them down.

Even if it costs the lives of a dozen or even dozens of soldiers to destroy each Yellow Turban Warrior, that's the only way we can do it.

As time went on, the casualty figures for the Allied forces were rising rapidly.

The lords felt as if their hearts were bleeding.

Even Maris and the other dark elf matriarchs frowned.

They had previously secretly instructed the frontline soldiers to conserve their strength and not to advance too far.

However, the intensity of the current melee far exceeded their expectations. Even with the utmost care to avoid combat, they still suffered heavy losses in the meat grinder-like battle.

At this moment, the number of Yellow Turban warriors in front of the Allied army on the water screen had decreased by nearly half, and the ground was littered with shattered iron armor wreckage.

The army finally advanced its lines to within about two hundred meters of the elven army's formation, and it looked like they were about to enter close combat.

Just then, a short horn sounded from behind the elven army.

The next moment, the elven army began to retreat in an orderly manner, their formation remaining perfectly intact.

Meanwhile, another army has arrived to reinforce the front.

That was the army of a vassal race of Nine Nether City.

Their formation was relatively loose, and their equipment was not as bright as the elves', but they had the advantage of large numbers, standing in layers between the Yellow Turban Warriors and the elven army.

The defensive line that was thinning suddenly became thick again.

The elven soldiers, having regained distance, began unleashing ranged fire once more under the cover of their vassal races.

Fire and lightning erupted again on the front lines, showering the Allied forces with a new wave of despair.

"Damn it!"

The dwarf lord of Dilo slammed his fist on the table, his expression filled with shock and anger.

They finally made it this far, and now they have to start all over again.

Those vassal races' armies may not be as elite, but they have the advantage of large numbers.

To get past this thick wall of people and get back to the elven lines, who knows how many more lives would be lost.

The morale of the allied forces was also worn down and shattered in this back-and-forth struggle.

When the casualties finally accumulated to a number that could no longer be ignored, the front lines began to falter.

The soldiers of the vassal races of the major city-states were the first to collapse.

They didn't have a strong fighting spirit to begin with, and quickly lost their will to fight in the face of heavy casualties.

Some people dropped their weapons and retreated, and then it spread rapidly like a snowball.

The officers shouted desperately and brandished their swords to kill deserters in an attempt to regain their footing, but to little avail.

Just as the front lines began to falter, a sudden commotion broke out in the rear of the Allied forces.

The lords looked on in astonishment and saw a large number of elves dressed in blue robes emerge from the ground and appear at the weakest point in the rear of the Alliance army.

As soon as they appeared, they swiftly cut into the ranks, working in groups of three to five with perfect coordination, unleashing a bloodbath among the panicked rear guard soldiers.

After quickly defeating the surrounding soldiers, they all took out black banners and waved them fiercely.

Grayish-white mist gushed out from the banner like a flood bursting its banks, instantly engulfing a large area.

Within the mist, hundreds and thousands of ghostly soldiers emerged like a tide, silently rushing towards the panicked soldiers.

The already wavering rear guard line collapsed completely at this moment.

The soldiers who were still fighting at the front heard the chaos and screams behind them. When they turned around, they saw a gray and white phantom surging in from behind like a tide. The last taut string snapped.

"It's a monster!"

"Run!"

"I don't want to die!"

Terrified screams erupted in the ranks, spreading rapidly along the lines like a plague.

The soldiers dropped their weapons, turned and ran wildly backward, pushing and trampling each other, and their formation completely collapsed.

The lords stared intently at the water curtain, their faces ashen.

It’s over.

It's completely over.

"Damn it!"

The dwarf lord of Dilo smashed the low table in front of him with a powerful punch, sending shards of stone and wood flying everywhere.

He suddenly looked up, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the solemn yet composed expressions of the Dark Elf Matriarchs. A thought flashed through his mind.

"It's you guys!"

Kazmo's single eye instantly became bloodshot, fixed firmly on Maris.

"Maris, I've felt something was wrong for a long time. Your Vion City has been conserving its strength from beginning to end, and now you're showing this kind of expression... Have you been colluding with Nine Nether City all along?"

Upon hearing this, the other lords also cast suspicious glances at the Dark Elf Matriarchs.

In the Underdark, dark elves are notorious for their penchant for betraying their own allies.

Moreover, their reaction at this moment was indeed quite strange.

In the current situation, any suspicious point will be magnified infinitely.

"idiot."

Maris spoke coldly.

"Fools. If we were colluding with Nine Nether City, we wouldn't need to cause all this trouble. We could just join forces and crush them. Do you think you have any chance to resist?"

The dwarf lord of Dilo paused for a moment.

The other lords gradually calmed down and had to admit that Maris made sense.

The strength of Vion City alone is already comparable to that of the twelve city-states combined.

By joining forces with Nine Nether City, there's no need for any schemes or tricks; we can simply crush them head-on.

Lord Kou Tao, the merman lord, saw through the deception and said in a deep voice, "Maris, judging from your appearance, you probably have a backup plan. Since things have come to this point, there's no need to hide anything."