Elven cultivators

In the northern part of the continent, the frost and wind are as sharp as knives.

Autumn comes earlier in the Warn Plains than in the south.

The grass had long since withered and turned yellow, pressed flat against the ground by the wind. The gray-brown dirt road meandered through the withered grass, leading to the distant giant city built of gray stone.

That was Bloodclaw City, the heartland of the Bloodclaw clan.

As Lekenso descended the airship's gangway, a gust of wind blew in from the north, whipping up fine sand that stung his face with a dry, cold, and harsh taste.

He pulled his cloak tighter and glanced back at the airship behind him.

The greyish-white transport ship was unloading cargo, and several wolf-blood soldiers dragged out sealed iron boxes from the hatch, the boxes bearing the emblem of the Bloodclaw clan.

"Be careful not to break it," Lykenso said in a deep voice. "Move it to the warehouse immediately after unloading it, don't delay it on the way."

He had been traveling for almost half a month, and the box contained his biggest find from this trip, which he was preparing to report to the clan leader and elders. He could not afford to lose it.

"Yes, Lord Lekenso."

The leading wolf-blooded officer immediately straightened his back and responded respectfully. He then turned and whispered a few words to the soldiers behind him, urging them to speed up their movements.

Without another word, Lykenso turned and strode toward Bloodclaw City.

The city gates in the distance were wide open, and the flow of people coming and going was sparse, unlike the bustling scene before he set off.

It felt as if there was an invisible layer pressing down on the air, making it harder to breathe.

Lykenso frowned, keenly sensing that something was amiss in the atmosphere.

He quickened his pace toward the inner city, and as he passed through the stone gate, he bumped into Baal coming out of the side corridor.

The wolf-born man, a generation older than him, was the deputy commander of the inner city guard. He was stocky and had a missing piece in his left ear, which had been cut off by the enemy when they fought against the dragonborn a few years ago.

Upon seeing Lekenso, Barr smiled slightly.

"I was just thinking you should be back soon. How about we grab a drink tonight? Same old place, the tavern on East Street. The owner recently got a batch of strong liquor from the south; I hear it's pretty potent."

"Hmm." Lakenso nodded, then lowered his voice and asked, "What's going on in town? I sense something's off."

"...Your intuition is still so sharp."

Baal paused for a moment, his smile fading slightly, and said in a low voice, "Lady Scar is dead."

Lykenso paused, then his eyes widened in surprise.

"What happened?"

Lord Scar was a saint, one of the top combatants on the continent. How could he have died so suddenly?

Aside from the Dragon Slaying War, he had never heard of any saint's death.

Barr sighed and recounted the whole story.

Upon hearing this, Lykenso stood frozen in place, his mind reeling.

He certainly knew about the Silvermoon Clan's Meteor Dragon Sword Saint.

That was a legendary powerhouse at the pinnacle, comparable to a five-star pillar.

But he never expected that the other party would be able to kill Lord Scar.

A legendary kill of a saint?

He wouldn't have believed it at all if it hadn't been Baal who said it.

This is absolutely outrageous!

It took Lykenso a while to recover. He took a deep breath, suppressing the shock in his chest, and asked, "What did they say? Are they sending troops to avenge Lord Scar?"

"They haven't said anything yet, but..." Baal hesitated for a moment, then shook his head, "I don't think they're likely to send troops. After all, we're too far from the Silvermoon Clan, almost half a continent apart. If a war really breaks out, our supply lines alone could cripple us, not to mention..."

Barton paused for a moment, turned his head, and looked towards the distant city wall, his tone revealing an undisguised apprehension.

"The Silvermoon Clan's airships have terrifying troop transport capabilities and flight speed. If we go to war with them, our rear supply lines will be laid bare right under their noses. They can cut them off whenever they want. Without solving this problem, an expedition is just a pipe dream."

"It's better to take a longer-term view."

Lykenso was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded.

He knew, of course, that Barker was right, but he still couldn't suppress his anger.

The Bloodclaw Clan is a long-established first-class power on the Dawn Continent, and with the Bloodhowl Fortress as its backing, it has nothing to fear from any force other than the other four top powers.

When have they ever suffered such a great loss?

A saint died, but revenge could not be taken immediately.

If word gets out, countless forces will secretly laugh at them.

They laughed at them for being unable to do anything about an elven clan.

Baal saw through his thoughts, patted him on the shoulder, and said in a deeper voice, "The Bloodclaw Project is our most important task right now. Once the project is complete, we can deal with the Silvermoon Clan later. This score won't be settled so easily."

Lykenso took a deep breath, slowly suppressing the unease in his chest, and nodded: "You're right."

Baal changed the subject: "By the way, did you find anything interesting on your trip to the east?"

"We've made some progress." Lakenso's expression relaxed slightly. "I'm about to report to the chieftain and elders."

"The chieftain and elders are in the council chamber right now." Baal stepped aside to make way. "When you're done, let's meet at our usual spot tonight for a drink."

"OK."

The two parted ways, and Lykenso continued deeper into the inner city, soon arriving at the council chamber.

Two guards stood on either side of the heavy stone gate, short blades hanging from their waists, motionless like two stone statues.

One of them recognized Lykenso and, after asking what they wanted, raised his hand and knocked on the door.

A moment later, a deep, hoarse voice came from inside the door saying "Come in," and the guard pushed open half of the door, gesturing for Lakenso to enter.

Lykenso straightened his robes and stepped inside.

The council chamber was warmer than outside.

Magic crystal lamps were embedded in the walls, casting a yellowish light that enveloped the entire hall in an amber glow.

Four or five figures sat around the long table in the center.

Strom, the patriarch of the Bloodclaw clan, sat at the head of the table. He was tall and had a few dark brown old scars mixed in with his gray hair. His hands were placed on the table, and his knuckles were as thick as stone edges.

Several elders sat on either side, all with somber expressions, as if they had just been discussing some important matter.

Upon seeing Lykenso, Strom nodded slightly: "When did you get back, Lykenso?"

"I just disembarked from the airship, Chieftain." Lykenso bowed respectfully.

"Did you gain anything?"

"Yes, Chieftain."

With a flick of his wrist, Lykenso produced a longsword in his palm, stepped forward, and gently placed it on the long table.

"During my trip to the southern border, I discovered a batch of weapons of unknown origin at several underground trading points. These weapons all carried a faint aura of spirit, and I think they must be what the chieftain is looking for."

As soon as he finished speaking, Strom and the elders all looked at the sword.

The sword is entirely silver-gray with several rust marks of varying depths, yet it does not appear old; instead, it exudes a rustic charm that comes with age.

The patterns on both sides of the sword spine extend naturally along the blade, intertwining like tree roots, giving one a sense of the passage of time that has accumulated on it at a glance.

To the average collector, this is undoubtedly a rare and precious antique.

In the eyes of a powerful figure like Strom, he could perceive an almost imperceptible spiritual pulse within the sword.

"That's right, it's definitely a spirit." A slight smile finally appeared on Strom's cold face. "How many of these did you bring back?"

"Eighteen items in total. The rest have already been transported to the warehouse. I instructed them to store them carefully and not to touch them without permission."

Storm nodded in satisfaction: "You did a good job, Lykenso."

Lykenso was overjoyed, but he suppressed it and didn't show it, only lowering his head even further.

"Chief, I've interrogated the merchants who sold these weapons and figured out their distribution channels. If we can continue tracing along that line, we should be able to intercept even more."

A glint flashed in Storm's eyes: "Where is the source?"

"These weapons all came from the eastern part of the mainland, but their exact location has not yet been fully pinpointed."

Upon hearing the word "Eastern," Strom and several elders simultaneously frowned.

But Storm didn't say much, only said in a deep voice, "Continue the investigation, dig out the source."

"I'm leaving this matter entirely to you. Bring all those weapons back. If you need manpower, just transfer them directly from the clan; there's no need for all the reporting."

"Yes, Chieftain!"

Lykenso took two steps back, bowed again, and then turned and left the council chamber.

The heavy stone door slammed shut behind him with a low, muffled thud.

Only after the footsteps in the corridor had completely faded away did an elder frown and speak: "Is it really appropriate to entrust this matter to Lykenso? He's only a Gold-rank cultivator; what if he runs into trouble..."

Before Storm could speak, another elder shook his head: "We old guys are too conspicuous. The Silvermoon Clan is currently riding high. If they notice that the Bloodclaw Clan has sent legendary warriors into the East, it will only alert them. Lykenthoore is reliable and has just returned from outside, so he won't attract attention."

The other elders nodded in agreement.

Currently, the movements of the saints and legendary powerhouses of various forces are often closely watched, and their every move is under intense scrutiny.

In comparison, the Gold Rank is less conspicuous and is more suitable for tasks that require concealment.

After reaching an agreement, everyone skipped over this topic and returned to the previous issue.

"Is the matter with Scar just going to be left like this?"

"So what if we don't count? We simply don't have the resources to launch an expedition against the Silvermoon Clan right now. On the contrary, the Silvermoon Clan has those new airships and can attack Bloodclaw City at any time. We have to be on guard all the time."

"But if we do nothing, what will the outside world think of the Bloodclaw Clan?"

"If we go to war with the Silvermoon Clan and lose, we'll lose even more face."

Just as the elders were arguing amongst themselves, Strom raised his hand and tapped the table, interrupting them.

He glanced around and said in an unquestionable tone, "Put the Silvermoon Clan's affairs aside for now. Let's finish raising the Bloodclaw Wolf pack first. This is a major matter concerning the future development of the entire clan."

"Once the Bloodclaw Wolf pack is fully formed, the Silvermoon Clan will be nothing to fear."

"We'll get back the face we've lost now sooner or later."

The elders looked at each other, and no one raised any further objections.

……

Primordial Spirit Realm, Primordial City.

Below the Tree of Eternity.

Anton sat cross-legged on a blue stone.

In the void before them, a grayish-white egg hung suspended in a net-like pouch woven from emerald green vines.

The vines extended from the roots of the ancient trees in all directions, intertwining and winding around the surface of the eggs, like the veins that wrap around the fetus in the mother's womb.

The tip of each vine emitted a warm, bluish light, flickering intermittently, as if breathing in sync with some long, slow rhythm.

The cloud-like patterns on the surface of the egg shimmered slightly under the light, as if something that had been dormant for countless years was slowly awakening.

"The effect is pretty good."

Anton smiled with satisfaction as he sensed the life force slowly reviving within the Old World Egg at an imperceptible pace.

After searching through the Great Dao Jade Slip, he quickly selected a formation suitable for infusing the Old World Egg with life.

He then combined his own understanding of formations with some modifications, ultimately creating the current formation.

Anton named it the Myriad Woods Spirit Transformation Array.

The core concept of the entire formation is not to forcibly inject energy, but to leverage existing momentum.

Using the root network of the entire forest in the Primordial Spirit Realm as the mother structure, the wood element energy is slowly and naturally guided along each vine and root to the area around the egg, and then transformed into life force through the array, permeating into the old world egg.

This approach is more efficient than simply injecting vitality.

After all, the life force required for the Old World Egg is extremely large. Even if all the water from the Fountain of Life were poured into it, it probably wouldn't be able to fill it.

Only by transforming wood element energy into life force can the revival needs of the old world's eggs be met.

Thanks to the ecological support of the entire Primordial Spirit Realm, the energy supply is almost inexhaustible, and the transformation process is naturally compatible.

It is a completely natural symbiotic model and will not cause any stimulation to the egg.

The only downside is that it's a bit slower.

Anton withdrew his hand from the array's core, allowing the array to operate on its own for a while. Then he closed his eyes and probed the egg with his divine sense along the veins of the vines.

The life force inside the egg was more stable than during the last exploration. Although it was still as faint as a candle flame, it was no longer as intermittent and almost dissipated as it had been at the beginning.

The pulsation is becoming more regular, gradually moving towards stability.

When Anton opened his eyes again, he already had a rough estimate in his mind.

At this rate, the Old World Eggs should hatch in about thirty years.

The divine creatures inside will then hatch.

"I wonder what kind of divine being it is?"

Anton is still unable to determine what kind of creature is inside the egg.

But one thing is certain: it is extremely powerful.

Divine beings have long lifespans and grow very rapidly. Adults possess power comparable to Nascent Soul stage cultivators, making them ideal spirit beast contracts for cultivators.

Thirty years of incubation time is perfectly acceptable for Anton.

Anton rose from the bluestone, took one last look at the egg wrapped in vines, and then turned and left.

A moment later, he arrived at the Tianyuan Hall and saw Eleanor sitting behind a long table, engrossed in processing documents.