Elven cultivators

Reports of the Battle of Tal Plains spread across the continent at an astonishing speed.

The first to receive the news were, of course, the twenty-four forces that followed the Bloodclaw Clan in attacking the Silvermoon Clan.

They were putting all their strength into fighting the Silvermoon Clan's foreign army on the border between the Thunder River Basin and the Green Highlands. Although they had not yet made any breakthroughs, they were barely maintaining a stalemate.

But when the results of the bloody battle on the Tal Plains reached their ears, the leaders of these forces felt as if the sky had fallen.

They dared to join forces with the Bloodclaw Clan because they were certain that the Silvermoon Clan could not handle fighting on two fronts simultaneously.

As long as they can hold back a portion of the Silvermoon Clan's forces, the Bloodclaw Clan can defeat the Silvermoon Clan.

But they persisted, while the Bloodclaw Clan was defeated in a direct confrontation in less than a month.

This was unacceptable to them.

Upon learning the news, these forces immediately launched into a tirade of abuse against the Bloodclaw Clan.

To lose despite having such a huge advantage is a disgrace to a first-rate power.

Despite the harsh criticism, these forces are quick to take action.

They almost simultaneously ordered a retreat without hesitation and immediately dispatched an envoy to the Primordial Spirit Realm, adopting an extremely humble posture, clearly indicating their intention to admit defeat and seek peace.

But the Silvermoon Clan did not give them that opportunity.

On the very day the army withdrew from the Tal Plains, it immediately turned around and split into several routes to head towards the border areas of the Thunder River Basin and the Green Heights, launching a full-scale counterattack against these retreating forces, displaying an attitude of wanting to wipe them out one by one.

Meanwhile, other uninvolved forces were also taken aback when they learned of this news.

The major and minor factions that had previously been certain of the Silver Moon Clan's defeat fell silent.

Even those forces that believed the Silvermoon Clan could rival the Bloodclaw Clan were shocked.

They had considered that the Silvermoon Clan might win, but they never expected the Silvermoon Clan to win so quickly and so decisively.

The fighting strength and execution capabilities displayed by this elven clan in this war far exceeded everyone's expectations.

But then, an even more pressing question surfaced.

Throughout the entire war, from its outbreak to its end, the Silvermoon Clan's patriarch, the Fallen Dragon Sword Saint, never appeared on the battlefield.

Meanwhile, the Bloodclaw Clan's patriarch and the four Saint Elders were also nowhere to be seen.

The saints from both sides, as if by prior agreement, all disappeared from this crucial war.

What exactly did they go off to do?

……

Ruins of Deeprock.

The Dragon's Blood Prison still stands amidst the broken walls and ruins, its dark red membrane pulsating slowly in the gradually setting sun, like a giant heart stranded on the shore.

The scale-like patterns on the surface are now much sparser than before, and the flow rate has slowed down significantly, like the last few trickles in a dried-up riverbed.

Inside the Dragon's Blood Prison, a dark red aura, like a viscous liquid, slowly flowed across the cracked ground.

Anton sat cross-legged in the center of the ruins, and the sword pellet floating in front of him was undergoing subtle changes.

The continuous absorption over the past two weeks has made the dark gold color on the surface of the sword pellet extremely concentrated, and the spiritual light emanating from within has almost solidified into a tangible form.

As another wisp of dragon essence was drawn out and disappeared into the depths of the sword pellet, the sword pellet trembled violently. The dark golden light on its surface suddenly contracted inward, and then spread outward like a tide.

The spiritual light spread across the surface of the pill, extending outwards along the fine sword patterns, like a burning net of fire, enveloping the entire sword pill.

The spiritual energy flowed and circulated between the sword patterns, emitting a deep and clear hum, as if thousands of swords were vibrating at the same time, yet all were compressed into the same harmonious sound.

Anton's divine sense was pressed against the surface of the sword pellet, and he clearly perceived the change that occurred at that moment.

Inside the original pill, the impurities left over from absorbing the essence of countless dragons were now completely melted and settled, transforming into a clear primordial light that quietly floated in the deepest part of the sword pill's core.

"It's done."

Anton suddenly opened his eyes, a smile appearing on his face.

I've finally upgraded the sword pellet to a mid-grade spiritual weapon.

He stared intently at the sword pellet in front of him.

Compared to more than half a month ago, the sword pellet is now completely different.

Although its shape has not changed much, it is still a round pill the size of a longan, but its luster is several times richer.

The color of the dark gold is no longer just a thin layer of light on the surface, but shines through layer upon layer from the depths of the core, with a warm and solid texture, like a dark patina formed after countless layers of gold leaf have settled.

The originally fine sword patterns on the surface have now become even deeper.

Each mark is like a sword mark branded into metal, with sharp edges and a fierce trend, and faint starlight-like light slowly wandering along the lines inside.

With a slight thought, Anton sent the sword pellet into a flash of dark golden light, which silently arced through the quiet room.

Where the sword light swept past, the air seemed to be cleaved open with a barely perceptible crack, and even the surrounding dark red light seemed to be cut off from its flow, pausing for a moment before closing again.

"Not bad, its power is at least half again as strong as before."

Anton quickly made an assessment in his mind.

At his level, every increase in output is extremely difficult.

The mid-grade spiritual weapon sword pellet was enough to elevate his combat ability to a new level.

With his current strength and the sword pellet, he could even fight against a Saint of the highest level.

It's not even impossible for them to win.

In fact, we should thank the Bloodclaw Clan.

If they hadn't gone to great lengths to set up this Dragon Bone Blood Prison and create such a unique environment for him, the Sword Pill would have needed to be nurtured for at least another one or two hundred years to break through to become a mid-grade spiritual weapon.

Now we've saved that long period of time.

Unfortunately, the dragon's essence is almost depleted.

Anton looked around and saw that the dark red interior of the space was much dimmer than it had been half a month ago.

The remaining dragon essence was no longer sufficient for the sword pellet to break through and become a high-grade spiritual weapon in one go.

hum!

The sword light circled in the air a few times before returning to Anton and hovering there.

A wisp of extremely clear spiritual intent floated up from the depths of the sword pellet, actively touching Anton's consciousness, gentle and intimate.

Anton snapped out of his daze and smiled at Kenmaru.

"Well, this is already a great result. I can't be too greedy."

"Absorb the remaining essence completely, then we'll go out and properly thank the guys outside."

……

Outside the Dragon's Blood Prison.

Strom sat on a broken stone pedestal, his hands still pressed against the dark red membrane.

On his side, Olsen maintained the same posture.

The other two wolf-born saints sat to the side, recovering their magic.

Compared to half a month ago, their faces looked noticeably more tired.

"Chieftain," Olsen said in a hoarse voice, "the energy of the Dragonbone Blood Prison has been decreasing rapidly. Anton must have used some method to deplete its energy. If this continues, the Dragonbone Blood Prison will soon be unable to hold him."

Strom remained silent, his face grim.

If he was not entirely sure before, now he no longer has any doubts.

Anton was certain that he had mastered some means of countering, or even breaking through, the Dragon's Blood Prison.

Judging from the current trend, the Dragon Bone Blood Prison probably won't hold him for long.

Thinking of this, Strom gritted his teeth inwardly.

The Bloodclaw Clan's five saints ambushed them, and one of them has already fallen.

If even the Dragon Bone Blood Prison can't handle Anton, then the scheme they set up today will probably become a joke.

At that moment, the expressions of the four wolf-born saints changed simultaneously.

They sensed someone approaching the ruins.

Soon, a series of hurried and disordered footsteps came from the edge of the ruins.

Several wolf-blooded officers raced through the broken walls and rubble toward their area.

To the astonishment of Storm and his companions, these werewolf officers were covered in dust and blood, looking quite disheveled.

Upon seeing Strom, the group's knees buckled and they knelt on the ground.

"Chieftain...Tal Plains...has been defeated."

The moment those words landed, Strom's hands, which had been as steady as a rock, trembled violently.

He slowly turned his head, his gaze falling on the officer's face, which was covered in dust and blood, and said, slowly and deliberately, "What did you say?"

The soldier lowered his head even further, his voice trembling: "Chieftain, the Wolf Fang Legion has been routed, the Blood Wolf Pack has been completely wiped out, Lord Casper... is dead, and countless of our men have been killed or wounded. Less than 30% of them will be able to retreat."

The ruins fell eerily quiet.

Olsen abruptly stood up, almost losing his composure: "How is this possible? We have 600,000 troops, and Blood Wolves as our trump card, how could this be..."

The officer's lips moved, but he didn't know how to explain.

Strom and the others saw it all and understood immediately.

They clearly underestimated the strength of the Silvermoon Clan.

A suffocating silence permeated the ruins.

The four wolf-born saints all looked extremely grim.

They made so many preparations, united many forces, and even had the Blood Wolf Pack as their trump card, yet they still lost?

This was unacceptable to them.

Strom felt a wave of helplessness wash over him.

Having done so much, I originally thought I could resolve the conflict between Anton and the Silvermoon Clan, allowing the Bloodclaw Clan to reach new heights, but unexpectedly, I failed on both sides.

The Bloodclaw Clan suffered heavy losses this time, their strength was severely depleted, and it is unknown how long it will take to recover.

Strom closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them again, his expression had returned to its indifferent state.

"Withdraw," he said in a deep voice.

A wolf-blooded saint beside him suddenly turned his head and said urgently, "Clan leader, we've put so much effort into setting up this barrier. If we withdraw it now, Anton will..."

"The Silvermoon Clan's army will be here soon," Storm interrupted him. "Do you think we can hold off the Silvermoon Clan's army in our current state while maintaining the Dragonbone Blood Prison?"

The wolf-born saint was speechless.

Olsen and another wolf-born saint sighed deeply.

They knew very well that Strom's decision was the wisest choice.

It's just that it's hard to accept.

"You do have a good sense of self-awareness."

A voice suddenly drifted out from within the Dragon's Bone Blood Prison.