Elven cultivators

Under the watchful eyes of numerous scouts, shadowy figures began to appear at the edge of the forest.

Upon closer inspection, they were all elves.

They were dressed in uniform blue robes, their figures almost blending into the shadows of the trees behind them.

When the gray-white torrent of undead advanced to within about five hundred paces of the forest's edge, the elves simultaneously made their move.

Some raised their hands and made a gesture, their fingertips brushing across the ground and forming pale golden runes that then transformed into streaks of light that shot out and crashed into the ranks of the undead, tearing the skeletons and corpse soldiers to pieces.

Some threw out stacks of talismans, which scattered in mid-air, swelled in the wind, and transformed into flames, lightning arcs, and wind blades, crashing down and instantly clearing large scorched areas in the dense array of undead.

The short young man watching the game was secretly amazed and filled with envy.

The Silvermoon Clan's talismans are renowned for their practicality, but they are also incredibly expensive. Only the Silvermoon Clan on the entire continent can afford to consume talismans in such large quantities without any hesitation.

But the effect was indeed immediate.

In the short 500-step buffer zone, at least tens of thousands of undead were torn to pieces by talismans and spells.

A thick layer of broken bones and charred ash covered the gray wasteland, turning it into a mottled landscape of varying shades.

However, the undead showed no fear. With the front lines cleared, the skeleton warriors and undead soldiers in the rear immediately stepped over the remains of their own kind and continued to advance, their pace unchanged.

When the vanguard of the undead army finally advanced to the edge of the forest, the pale blue halo that had been shrouding the perimeter of the woodland suddenly lit up, keeping the undead out.

Immediately afterwards, the atmosphere of the entire forest changed abruptly.

Under the guidance of the Spiritual Pivot Array Eye, the vitality of plants, mountains, rivers, and earth veins surged together, transforming into countless verdant specks of light that rose from the gaps in the forest, intertwined and converged in the sky, and turned into thick clouds.

The next moment, a dense rain of spiritual energy fell, covering the edge of the forest and an area several hundred meters ahead.

The fine, gentle raindrops instantly restored the fairies' pale complexions, which had turned slightly white from continuous spellcasting, to a rosy hue the moment they touched them.

The depleted spiritual energy and true essence were replenished at a visible speed, like a dried-up riverbed being infused with fresh water.

The raindrops falling on the dead, however, sounded like boiling oil being poured into a snowdrift, producing a faint hissing sound.

The skeleton warrior at the forefront froze abruptly, the soul fire in his eye sockets flickered violently a few times, and then suddenly went out. His entire skeleton, as if the last supporting block had been removed, collapsed to the ground with a crash.

The corpse soldiers reacted even more violently.

The moment the spiritual rain fell, a layer of scorched cracks appeared on their withered skin, spreading from their shoulders to their waists, with wisps of blue smoke rising from the cracks.

In no time, these undead soldiers turned to ashes one by one and scattered with the wind. In just a breath or two, most of the densely packed undead in the five hundred meters in front of the forest were cleared away.

The undead army paused only briefly before continuing its attack.

In their dictionary, there are no words like fear or cowardice.

Despite their relentless advance, the undead army found themselves back in the same predicament, forced to charge towards the edge of the forest from 500 meters away, enduring the elves' relentless barrage of fire.

And so a new round of slaughter began.

The short and tall youths watched in amazement.

They could sense that the raindrops contained a very strong life energy, which was a great tonic for intelligent beings, but very harmful to the dead.

The attack may not seem fierce, but it is extremely powerful, subtly and silently annihilating the enemy.

"What a powerful magic array," the short youth murmured.

The tall young man nodded, his eyes shining: "The Fallen Dragon Sword Saint is indeed a master of magic arrays. His ability to design such a large-scale magic array that combines offense and defense is truly admirable."

The scouts around were also deeply shocked by this scene. They stared wide-eyed at the battlefield, afraid of missing any detail.

The battle seemed to have fallen into a mechanical repetition. Whenever the undead army advanced to the edge of the forest under concentrated fire, the halo would suddenly blaze brightly, and a rain of spirits would pour down, clearing a buffer zone in front of them.

This process was repeated more than ten times, and the undead army was worn down by more than 200,000 soldiers at the edge of the forest.

A thick layer of pale white bone meal and charred black ash had accumulated in front of the forest.

Only then did the forest's blue halo visibly dim.

When the undead army advanced to the edge of the forest once again, the spirit rain did not fall again.

The elves retreated in an orderly fashion, giving way to the silent figures standing behind them.

Thousands of oak trees stepped out from the shadows of the forest to serve as guardians.

Their bodies are thicker than ordinary trees, their trunks are covered with a thick layer of bark, and their thick branches hang down like the arms of giants. Every step they take brings a dull sound of earth turning over.

Without roars or howls, the oak guardians stood silently at the edge of the forest, like a towering and solid city wall.

The undead surged into the forest like a tide, only to crash and shatter before this colossal wall.

An oak guardian swung its thick branches, sweeping across the battlefield with a whooshing sound, snapping three or five skeleton warriors in half with a single blow.

The other oak guard raised its massive foot, formed from intertwined roots and wood fibers, and stomped down, crushing two undead soldiers who tried to climb up from the side into the mud. The undead, on the other hand, were only left with faint white marks on the oak guard's thick bark armor, unable to even tear open the outermost layer of protection.

The individual strengths of the two sides are not on the same level at all.

The horde of the undead that once terrified countless towns in the north was no match for this silent wooden barrier. It was like waves crashing against a cliff, crashing and receding, crashing and receding again, unable to advance an inch.

The short young man watched with great admiration.

"This is the Oak Guardian? This is the first time I've seen it in person. It's truly amazing."

The tall young man nodded in agreement.

Most elven clans that possess the Tree of Eternity cultivate oak guardians.

However, these living plants are limited by their environment and are usually only responsible for guarding the forests where the elven clans live. It is difficult for outsiders to see them out.

The combat power of these oak guardians is far stronger than rumored. Besides the excellent training of the Silvermoon Clan, the enhancement provided by this large magic array is likely also a factor.

Just as the two were talking, a series of whooshing sounds suddenly came from both flanks of the battlefield.

A group of elves rushed out from the side of the forest, swept to the edges of the undead army, and in unison swung their hands to scatter handfuls of golden beans.

Golden light rained down and blossomed, causing the bodies of Yellow Turban Warriors to rapidly expand within the spiritual light, instantly forming several neat square formations that fiercely slashed into the ranks of the undead from both flanks.

Immediately following, another elf took out a long, jet-black banner and shook it in the wind.

Grayish-white mist surged forth, from which countless armored, blade-wielding, translucent phantoms coalesced and silently crashed into the flanks of the undead.

Wherever the blade passed, the dead fell one after another like straw being cut.

The latter, however, fell on them as if passing through the air, causing almost no harm.

The short youth stared wide-eyed at the fleeting figures, exclaiming in surprise, "These are the legendary new puppets of the Silver Moon Clan? They are indeed different from ordinary puppets, looking more like ghosts."

Just as the tall young man was about to reply, a muffled rumble suddenly came from afar.

He looked in the direction of the sound and saw countless hideous and terrifying figures emerging from behind the undead army, charging wildly towards the forest.

Among them were skeletal creatures as tall as towers.

The joints were covered with thick bone plates, and he held a bone club or stone hammer as thick as a beam in his hand. Every step he took made the ground tremble slightly.

There were smaller, but more robust, grayish-brown monsters.

Their skin resembled dried lava, covered in cracks, with dark red flowing magma faintly visible within. The short youth's expression immediately turned solemn: "They are bone giants and rock beasts, the elite troops of the undead, each possessing at least silver-rank combat strength."

The tall young man seemed much more composed: "So what? The Yellow Turban Warriors of the Silver Moon Clan are already Silver-rank alchemical puppets. Many of those ghost-like new puppets have also reached the Silver rank. And don't forget, the Silver Moon Clan has an even more powerful puppet army."

As if in response to his words, another group of elves rushed out of the forest.

Each of them held a palm-sized command flag. As the flags were waved, five-colored light burst forth from them, and hundreds of figures solidified in the light, transforming into puppets clad in magnificent armor.

They were divided into five colors: blue, red, yellow, white, and black. Each of them was arranged in formation, and their energy was interconnected, like a moving five-colored barrier, which crashed into the charging line of the bone giant and the rock beast demon.

These were the five renowned battalions of divine soldiers of the Silver Moon Clan.

The menacing bone giants and rock beasts were like waves crashing against rocks in the face of the five battalions of divine soldiers, being dismantled and strangled layer by layer.

The tide of battle has once again turned in favor of the Silvermoon Clan.

The repeated setbacks in the battle seemed to have angered the commander behind the undead army, who finally played its last trump card.

A deep, mournful horn sound came from afar.

The next moment, the sky behind the battlefield suddenly darkened.

Countless enormous figures tore through the clouds, unleashing thunderous roars. Their bodies were constructed from grayish-white keel bones, their wing membranes serrated at the edges, gleaming with a cold, eerie blue luster in the sunlight.

There was no flesh or organs in the chest cavity, only a slowly rotating dark purple ball of light.

It was the fearsome Nether Dragon, the undead army that struck terror into the hearts of all.

As the massive body of the Nether Dragon descended from the sky, an invisible and heavy pressure instantly enveloped the entire battlefield.

Even the scouts watching from afar felt a tightness in their chests at that moment, as if a heavy boulder was pressing on their hearts, giving them the illusion that they couldn't breathe.