Elven cultivators

Chapter 82 The Sword's Cry (Bonus Chapter 4/5 for Monthly Tickets)

Hydra, a warrior race among the sea creatures.

Their status among the sea creatures is similar to that of warriors among the orcs; they are the most elite fighting force of their race.

Every adult Hydra possesses at least Silver rank strength, with a few exceptional individuals even reaching Gold rank.

On the continent of Dawn, sea creatures typically live in coastal waters and the deep sea, rarely appearing on land.

One reason is that their body structure is more suitable for the underwater environment, which would make it inconvenient for them to move around on land.

On the other hand, the dragon race has a stricter control over the sea races than the land races. Many sea areas are blocked by the dragon races, making it difficult for the sea races to leave the water.

Only in coastal cities like Bishui Port can one see a small number of marine creatures.

Even so, seeing a Hydra here is still a rare occurrence.

Anton's gaze lingered on the three heads for a moment, secretly marveling at them.

He had actually sensed the presence of these three people long ago through his divine sense.

Although the opponent was cleverly concealed and had their aura well hidden, these disguises were useless in the face of divine sense.

He just didn't say it out loud.

Now that he saw Marcus take the initiative to force the three out, Anton felt a bit amused.

This dragonborn officer was far more astute than he had anticipated.

Fortunately, he did not sense any aura similar to that of Zhuogu or the Great Elder from the other party, so the other party should not have awakened the power of laws yet.

Three groups of people gathered in the large courtyard, creating an eerie atmosphere. Only the three heads of the Hydra continued their incessant chatter.

Then all three heads turned to look at Anton.

"Feed," the middle head asked Anton, "Are you here to cause trouble for Everett too?"

Anton was quite interested in this Hydra, and nodded in agreement, "That's right."

"Do you have a grudge against him?" the left head asked curiously.

Anton shrugged: "He framed me for a crime and has been wanted for me for decades."

"Why did he do that?" This time it was the right head that asked the question.

Anton glanced at Everett, whose expression had changed drastically, and chuckled, "This involves a secret organization..."

Everett was furious when he saw Anton and Hydra talking as if no one else was there and completely disregarding them.

Seeing that the two were about to bring up the Ring of Annihilation in their conversation, he became anxious and quickly interrupted, "Enough with the nonsense. Not only did your Meteor Dragon Society attack White Sail Wharf before, but now you've come to attack our Chamber of Commerce headquarters. Fortunately, Lord Wilder anticipated your actions. Tonight, none of you will escape."

After saying that, he turned to look at Wilder, and his ferocious expression instantly turned into one of utmost respect.

"Lord Wilder, I would like to trouble you and the other two gentlemen to deal with those three members of the Fallen Dragon Society."

"As for Canglan... I'll handle him!"

As Everett finished speaking, the two people who had been standing silently beside him since he appeared stepped forward in unison.

One of the two was burly and muscular, wearing a fine scale armor.

A man of slender build, dressed in a gray robe, with a slightly aged face, held a short cane in his right hand.

It was obvious that they were the two Gold-rank experts who had been following Everett for many years, as mentioned in the intelligence reports.

Wilder gave Everett a deep look, then waved his hand, tacitly acknowledging his suggestion.

Everett felt a slight sense of relief, turned to look at Anton, and a cold smile returned to his face.

"I thought you were dead, so I had the arrest warrant withdrawn. But I didn't expect you to not only be alive, but also to come to my door. How foolish."

"Since you want to die, then I'll grant your wish."

In Everett's view, Canglan was only at the Silver rank more than sixty years ago. Even with his outstanding talent and good luck, he has broken through to the Gold rank in recent years, but he is at most a lower Gold rank.

In addition to more than two hundred skilled fighters, our side also has two Gold-rank combatants, which is more than enough to deal with Canglan.

Anton had no interest in wasting words with the other party. With a thought, a cold glint leaped from his chest and hovered in the air in front of him.

This complete disregard for him fueled Everett's anger even more.

"Take him down, I want him alive!"

Everett waved his hand coldly, determined to torture Anton thoroughly before interrogating him later.

Leon, sword in hand and expressionless, stepped out from the crowd and lunged at Anton in a flash.

On the other side, Hydra was still muttering to herself.

"Should we go help him? The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"You still have the mind to worry about others? Those three high-blooded dragon descendants don't look like easy targets."

"Heh heh, if you're scared, then let me handle it!"

The orc standing nearby finally couldn't take it anymore and hissed, "Shut up, stop making noise!"

He paused, then couldn't help adding, "Also, you're a trinity; it doesn't matter who makes the move!"

The middle-aged man looked at his two companions speechlessly, feeling a little resentful towards his superiors for pairing him with two dim-witted clowns.

Taking care of these two guys is exhausting.

"Alright, stop fooling around."

The middle-aged man interrupted his two companions' conversation, his gaze falling on the dragonborn opposite him, his expression turning serious.

"Take care of the important business first."

The Hydra and the orc exchanged a glance, both composed themselves, drew their weapons, and assumed fighting stances.

A cold smile flashed across Wilder's face as he watched this scene.

"It's laughable that a bunch of rats hiding in the gutter think they're strong enough to fight us just because they've succeeded in a few sneak attacks."

"Today I'll show you that a rat is still a rat; if it dares to peek out, it deserves to be crushed!"

The two high-blooded dragonborn standing behind Wilder also revealed disdainful sneers and took off their weapons.

Just as the battle was about to break out, a sudden, piercing scream interrupted their standoff.

Both of them turned to look at the sound and saw Leon stiffly leaning backward.

A thin, long blood hole had appeared between his eyebrows, its edges smooth, as if pierced by something extremely sharp.

His face was frozen in horror and disbelief, as if he had witnessed something utterly incredible.

What happened?

The middle-aged man, the orc, and the Hydra were all taken aback.

The intelligence reports said that Leon was a low-ranking Gold Warrior with extremely rich combat experience, so how did he die?

What exactly happened?

The three high-blooded dragon descendants were also horrified.

Wilder's gaze fell on the silvery-white light floating in front of Anton, and his eyes showed surprise and uncertainty.

The beam of light was less than a meter long, as thin as a hair, yet it exuded a chilling sharpness, as if it could sever even the gaze.

"Stop him!"

Everett suddenly yelled, his voice so sharp it was almost shattered, like a mouse whose tail had been stepped on.

Duncan was the first to react, and with a sudden swing of his short staff, the sapphire at the tip of the staff burst forth with a dazzling, cold light.

Fifth Ring spell: Ice Crystal Graveyard!

In an instant, the water vapor in the air condensed wildly, and countless tiny ice crystals appeared out of thin air, like millions of gleaming needles, shooting towards Anton in a massive, overwhelming rush.

The guards and mercenaries around them suddenly realized what was happening and rushed towards Anton.

"kill!"

"Kill him!"

The muffled thud of bowstrings vibrating and the hum of elemental energy rang out almost simultaneously, as a rain of arrows mixed with spells attacked from all directions, weaving together an impenetrable net of death.

Anton remained calm and unmoved.

He didn't even lift a finger, and the silver-white sword light hanging in front of him suddenly trembled.

A clear, resonant sword cry echoed through the night sky, making everyone present feel a sharp pain in their eardrums and a tightness in their chests.

The next instant, the sword light suddenly moved.

fast.

It was faster than anyone present could see.

A silvery-white light traced a thin, hair-like path across the night sky, like a fleeting shadow, before crashing into the oncoming ice crystals. With just a gentle stir, the ice crystals shattered into countless white powder particles that scattered across the sky.

The sword light continued its relentless advance, lightning flashing and weaving through the crowd.

Sometimes it's like a meteor falling to earth, piercing through a spellcaster along with their shield while they're casting a spell.

Sometimes it moves like a fish playing in the water, weaving gracefully through the crowd, each turn bringing with it a cloud of blood mist.

Sometimes it swept across the sky like thunder, moving from east to west, breaking weapons and shattering armor wherever it went; no one could withstand its power.

The sword light swept through the crowd as if it were in an empty field.

It has no weight, is not bound by any physical rules, and can be turned, accelerated, and changed direction at will simply by Anton's thought.

The speed was so fast that it left countless afterimages in the night sky, as if hundreds of sword lights were flying in the courtyard at the same time.

But in reality, from beginning to end, there was only that one touch of silvery white.

This is the power of sword cultivators.

Once the sword pellet develops its spiritual essence and merges with the divine soul, it can reflect the entirety of the place it goes, ensuring it never loses its target.

Furthermore, the flying sword is driven and controlled by divine sense. As long as it is within the range of divine sense, it can arrive in an instant, faster than lightning.

This is the principle behind the flying sword's ability to kill enemies over long distances.

If it were a high-level sword cultivator, their divine sense could cover millions of miles. Even if the enemy was millions of miles away, they could arrive with a single thought and take the enemy's life.

Anton's divine sense expanded, and the entire courtyard was within his attack range, with no blind spots.

The guards and mercenaries didn't even have time to see the trajectory of the sword light before their lives were taken.

In contrast, their attacks couldn't even break through the protective shield of true energy on Anton's body.

It was a completely one-sided massacre.

In just a few breaths, the originally dense crowd had dwindled by more than half.

Corpses lay strewn across the ground, blood flowing between the cracks in the stone slabs, forming dark red streams, and the air was thick with the stench of blood.

The guards and mercenaries finally broke down.

No one knows who was the first to drop their weapon and turn to run away, but fear spread as quickly as a plague.

"Run!"

"He's not human! He's a devil!"

"I don't want to die!"

The remaining guards and mercenaries scattered and fled, running wildly toward the courtyard exit, pushing and trampling each other, their cries of pain, screams, and wails mingling together.

However, that silvery-white sword light was like a persistent carbuncle, relentlessly pursuing and ruthlessly reaping every life.

In just a short while, there was no one left standing in the courtyard.

All around was deathly silent, except for the crackling of the burning torches and the faint sound of flowing blood.