Elven cultivators

Seeing the Nether Dragon descending from the sky, the short youth subconsciously swallowed.

Even in the towns that fell in the northern part of the mainland, the Nether Dragons did not fail to appear when the war broke out.

But they were all only a few, at most a dozen or so.

The number of Nether Dragons in front of them was roughly five or six hundred.

This was the first time he had ever witnessed such a scene.

That's five or six hundred legendary combatants!

Among them were several with exceptionally deep and concentrated auras, most of which had already reached the Saint level.

Undoubtedly, this is an extremely formidable lineup.

I wonder how the Silvermoon Clan will respond?

Will that Meteor Dragon Sword Saint make a move?

The moment this thought crossed his mind, the short youth caught a glimpse of more than thirty streaks of light rushing out of the forest and hovering in mid-air.

Most of these puppets were tall and imposing, clad in magnificent armor and enveloped in multicolored light, exuding an aura of majesty. Surprisingly, their imposing presence was evenly matched against the oppressive aura of the Nether Dragon.

The short youth's spirits immediately lifted: "That must be the legendary puppet of the Silver Moon Clan, right?"

The tall young man nodded slightly, his eyes shining.

The legendary puppets of the Silvermoon Clan don't make many moves, but the battles they participate in are almost all at the legendary level, and they have even killed more than one legendary powerhouse.

This is also why outsiders speculate that these puppets possess legendary-level strength.

When this news first broke, it surprised many people.

After all, only ancient golems of legendary rank existed in ancient times.

Since the beginning of the new era, no one has been able to create a legendary-tier puppet.

Unexpectedly, it was reproduced in Anton's hands.

This further enhanced Anton's reputation as a master alchemist and enchanter.

but......

The tall young man's gaze fell on the four figures at the front of the group, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes. The appearance of those four puppets was completely different from the others.

They exhibit a warm and lustrous texture, somewhere between jade and porcelain, with smooth surfaces like unpolished jade and a very faint ridge on their foreheads.

"What kind of puppet is that?" the tall young man wondered to himself.

But he quickly stopped thinking about it.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, those strangely shaped puppets transformed into streaks of light and rushed straight into the oncoming horde of Nether Dragons.

boom!

The sky was instantly torn apart.

The dazzling spiritual light and the dark dragon breath intertwined and exploded, and the deafening roar, accompanied by a violent shockwave, swept across the sky, as if the entire heavens were trembling violently.

The tall and short youths were terrified and instinctively took a step back before regaining a little sense of security.

Even so, their eyes were unwilling to leave the battlefield for even a moment.

As it turned out, they were right.

Those thirty-odd puppets were indeed genuine legendary-level beings, even stronger than they had anticipated. In a one-on-one fight, they were actually overwhelming the Nether Dragon.

On average, it takes six or seven Nether Dragons working together to barely contend with a single puppet.

"Wow, amazing..." the short youth murmured, his expression full of amazement. "This is probably at the level of a peak legend, more than one level stronger than the ancient golem."

The tall young man did not respond.

His gaze was fixed on the most intense and chaotic area high above the battlefield.

There, four puppets of different shapes were locked in battle with eight dark dragons of saintly rank.

Despite having only half the number of their opponents, the four puppets were not at a disadvantage at all.

The short young man quickly noticed this scene and was immediately dumbfounded.

"The rank of Saint... Saint?"

The Silver Moon Clan actually created a puppet of the Saint level.

The two looked at each other, both with expressions of disbelief.

That's a Saint! The pinnacle of combat power on the continent!

They couldn't imagine that someone could create a puppet of the Saint level.

The key point is not the ordinary saint rank.

Judging from the performance of those puppets, they are at least at the Resonance Realm.

The short young man's mind was buzzing, and he felt his throat go dry.

The scouts watching from the sidelines were all stunned.

They realized the significance of this matter almost simultaneously.

The ability to mass-produce Saint-level combat power means that given enough time, the Silver Moon Clan will undoubtedly become the strongest power on the continent, without exception.

After all, with a hundred or so Saints, which force would dare to say it can compete with the Silver Moon Clan?

Just as they were in shock, the situation on the battlefield changed once again.

The thirty-odd legendary puppets suddenly dispersed, forming groups of twelve, their energy interconnected, creating three orderly arrays that divided the Nether Dragon horde (excluding the Saint Nether Dragon) into three groups, each trapping the others within.

The moment the array activated, the puppets' power surged, and countless bolts of lightning, flames, and gales swept towards the Nether Dragons.

The violent and fierce power of the laws filled every inch of the surrounding void, crushing towards the Nether Dragon from all directions.

The horde of Nether Dragons, which had previously held a slight advantage due to their superior numbers, was thrown into disarray and quickly fell into a disadvantageous position.

In just a few breaths, more than a dozen Nether Dragons were overwhelmed by the storm of attacks, and they were reduced to ashes before they could even let out a scream.

The sudden turn of events left everyone dumbfounded once again.

These puppets actually had such powerful trump cards hidden away?

at the same time.

In the shadows of the distant clouds, Morales stared expressionlessly at the battlefield, his brows furrowed in a deep frown.

The military strength displayed by the Silvermoon Clan far exceeded his prior expectations.

He never expected that the Silver Moon Clan not only had legendary-level puppets, but also saint-level puppets.

What infuriated him even more was that, from the start of the battle until now, the Silvermoon Clan had sent almost no members, or even any vassal races, to directly engage the undead in a real, head-on fight.

From beginning to end, they either used that magic circle to annihilate the undead or sent out puppets to fight. The elves all remained safely huddled behind the defensive line, not losing a single hair.

In this way, he would never be able to devour even a tiny bit of soul from the Silvermoon Clan.

Morales's face was ashen as he turned his gaze to the undead being slaughtered by the puppets on the battlefield.

There's nothing we can do.

Although the soul power of the undead is of low quality and mixed with too much death energy, it is far less pure than the soul of intelligent beings, but there is no other choice now.

It's better than making a wasted trip.

Once his mind was made up, Morales no longer hesitated.

A faint gray halo silently spread from his body, extending along the texture of the air towards the battlefield, like an invisible net, quietly enveloping the crumbling remains of the dead.

But as soon as he made a move, his heart tightened and a sense of crisis suddenly surged into his mind.

The next instant, two spirits from the void crossed the void and locked onto his location almost simultaneously.