The Elven Cultivator

"It's a shame our resource supply can't keep up. Otherwise, the Clan would have long since allowed everyone to switch to cultivating the Eight Desolates Prison-Suppression Scripture."

"Many members of the Forest Guard want to cultivate this technique."

Romance was still chattering on.

Anton listened quietly, a faint smile on his face.

The resource consumption of the Eight Desolates Prison-Suppression Scripture was indeed a huge problem.

Although the Silver Moon Race had developed rapidly in recent years, their foundation wasn't deep enough to support too many people cultivating this technique.

Only when their financial resources grew could they lift the restriction completely.

Currently, there was only one safe and stable method to increase their income: cooperate with Gray Rock Castle to develop more metal veins in the Thousand Rock Hills.

However, that brought up the problem of manpower.

After all, a rift leading to the Dark Nether Realm had recently opened in the Frost Pattern Silver mining area, tying up a large number of personnel for defense.

'Speaking of which, the Dark Nether Realm is famous for its rich mineral veins. If we could find a few gold mines with large reserves there, wouldn't that solve our financial problems?'

Anton's heart stirred, but then he shook his head.

Unless they could deal with the Mind Flayer city-state, the Clan simply couldn't send enough people down into the Dark Nether Realm to mine.

Thinking of the Mind Flayers, Anton glanced at the Dimensional Bag at his waist.

After his recent research, he had already decided which type of Divine Soul Magical Artifact to forge.

The Soul-Suppressing Bell!

Simply put, this Magical Artifact had two major powers.

The first was Soul Defense.

The bell did not defend against physical objects or block weapons; it was specifically designed to counter malicious techniques that were formless, intangible, and directly attacked the Divine Soul.

All intangible attacks aimed at the wielder's Divine Soul would be blocked and absorbed by the Soul-Suppressing Bell, then converted into Soul Power and stored.

The second was Soul Suppression.

The wielder could strike the bell's wall with their Divine Sense to actively trigger it, releasing all the accumulated Soul Power at once as a soul-cleansing sonic wave to counterattack the enemy's Divine Soul.

A light blow would cause splitting headaches and mental confusion. A heavy one would cause the Divine Soul to shatter and blood to pour from all seven orifices, resulting in instant death.

It was a perfect balance of offense and defense.

Among all Divine Soul Magical Artifacts, it was considered to be in the absolute top tier.

Anton had currently gathered all the substitute materials and could begin forging.

The last time, it had taken him over a year to forge the Separation Fire Shield. With experience, it should take less time.

But no matter what, it would still take at least a year, so it definitely wouldn't be ready in time to deal with Marcus.

'No matter. This thing was meant for the Mind Flayers anyway.'

The Soul Defense ability would have a negligible effect on an enemy like a member of the Dragon Race.

After chatting with Anton for a while longer, Romance contentedly tucked the potion box into her clothes, waved, and departed in a flurry.

Anton chuckled and shook his head. He gathered his thoughts and returned to forging the Magical Artifact and the Five Camp Divine Soldiers.

...

「Three months passed in the blink of an eye.」

The day before the operation, Anton received a message from Scott.

The next day, Anton left the Silver Moon Forest and traveled north, arriving at the designated meeting point.

It was a long, narrow lake. The water was a deep indigo, as calm as a mirror, reflecting the last crimson-gold streaks of the sunset.

The southern shore was a gentle slope dotted with sparse shrubs and gravel, offering a wide, open view.

Anton stood by the lake, his gaze sweeping across the water toward the distance.

At the edge of his vision, the faint silhouette of a small town was visible.

Anton remembered the place was called Changhu Town.

It was a small fishing port town, famous for a rare aquatic product called "Lake Light Fish."

The scales of the Lake Light Fish would emit a faint blue fluorescence under the moonlight, making them a high-quality material for crafting Magic Scrolls. They were especially suitable for inscribing Water Element and Illusion Technique Magic Scrolls, and thus were quite famous in Alchemist circles.

The town was self-governed by a local fishermen's guild, which paid heavy taxes to Dragon City each year in exchange for relative freedom.

In such a remote place, unless Legendary Powerhouses were clashing, no amount of commotion would attract the attention of outsiders.

Anton withdrew his gaze. With a thought, he spread his Divine Sense and quickly detected several hidden auras somewhere along the lake shore.

He strode in that direction.

Rounding a waist-high rock, he saw four figures behind a thicket of bushes ahead, some sitting and some standing, conversing in low voices.

The first to notice Anton was Scott.

He stood up from a flat stone and smiled at Anton. "Canglan, you're here."

Now that Canglan was a companion, he had switched to a more familiar form of address.

Anton nodded slightly, his eyes sweeping over the others present.

Besides Scott, two of the other three were old acquaintances.

They were the Beastman and the Hydra he had met before.

Seeing Anton look over, the Beastman grinned at him. His fierce and ugly face, combined with his somewhat simple and honest gaze, created a stark contrast.

He introduced himself. "My name is Bazzer."

The Hydra's three heads all turned to look at him as well.

"We meet again, Canglan," the left head spoke first, its tone as familiar as if greeting an old friend.

"Hahaha, we're all comrades from now on," the middle head boomed with a wide grin.

"My name is Vorn," the right head finally remembered to introduce itself.

Anton nodded to Bazzer and Vorn, acknowledging their greeting.

The last person was a middle-aged man.

He looked to be in his forties, with a lean figure and a back as straight as a pine tree.

He had short, neat salt-and-pepper hair, a gaunt face with slightly high cheekbones, and deep-set eyes. His gray-blue eyes were as steady as a deep pool, revealing a sharp and serene quality honed by long experience.

He wore a suit of tight, dark-gray leather armor, with a Long Sword hanging at his waist.

Judging from the Runes on the hilt's surface, it was clearly a magical Long Sword.

"Mister Canglan," the middle-aged man spoke first. "I've heard much about you. I am Summers."

"Just Canglan is fine," Anton said with a smiling nod.

Summers smiled and agreed, a hint of hard-to-detect curiosity in his eyes as he looked at Anton.

He had studied the intelligence reports on Canglan many times.

The man's origins were a mystery. He had suddenly appeared on the Eldron Plain over eighty years ago, killed a guard from the Flame Trade Association, and then vanished without a trace.

He only reappeared twenty years ago, first killing the president of the Flame Trade Association, and then proceeding to destroy twenty-one military outposts with lightning speed, killing countless members of the Dragon Race.

Whether in terms of strength or methods, he was the ideal member for the Fallen Dragon Association.

This was also why he had agreed to recruit Canglan into the organization.

But seeing him in person today, Summers was still a little surprised.

'He's too young!'

Although Golden Tier powerhouses generally aged slowly, he could see almost no sign of world-weariness on Canglan.

Based on Canglan's history, his age had to be well over a hundred.

'How strange.'

Curiosity was one thing, but Summers didn't press the matter. Instead, he took a folded sheepskin paper map from his coat and spread it out on the flat rock.

"Everyone's here. Let's go over tomorrow's operational plan."

The others gathered around.

"This is the route Marcus must take to return to Dragon City tomorrow." Summers pointed to a winding dotted line on the map. "About five kilometers north of here, there's a narrow area called 'Ashen Valley.' The convoy has to pass through it. Our plan is to set up an ambush there."

"Ashen Valley is located between Bishui Port and Kresol Dragon City, but it's farther from the latter. As long as we finish the battle within half an hour, we can definitely withdraw before reinforcements from Dragon City arrive."

"Half an hour is enough," Scott nodded.

"As for Bishui Port," Scott continued, "as long as we don't make a move on their territory, the Bishui Council won't meddle. And just in case, our people will feign an attack on the Dragon Race garrison tomorrow to draw the attention of the city guard, keeping them too busy to look elsewhere."

His words were blunt, but everyone present understood the implication.

The councilors of the Bishui Council were, in essence, a group of merchants.

A merchant's nature is to seek profit and avoid harm. Without sufficient benefit, they wouldn't risk their lives for a Dragon Race officer.

What's more, ever since Marcus arrived at Bishui Port, he had been ordering the Bishui Council around, treating the councilors like servants. They were probably hoping something bad would happen to him.

Even if some councilors favored Dragon City, with other members of the Fallen Dragon Association creating a diversion, they likely wouldn't have the mind to pay attention to events outside the city.

The entire plan wasn't complicated, and under Summers's explanation, everyone quickly understood it.

"We'll rest here tonight and head out at dawn tomorrow to lie in wait in Ashen Valley."

Summers folded the map and glanced at the others.

No one had any objections, so they built a bonfire on the spot and prepared to spend the night.

As dusk fell, the last crimson-gold streak on the lake's surface was swallowed by the indigo.

In the distance, the lights of Changhu Town flickered on one by one, like fireflies scattered in the darkness.

The night passed without incident.

Early the next morning, the five of them set out for Ashen Valley.

Ashen Valley was situated between low hills. The earthen slopes on either side were no more than thirty to forty meters high, with a few sparse clumps of withered thorns on top, trembling in the morning breeze.

The valley floor was about a hundred meters wide, covered in a layer of gray-black volcanic ash and gravel that crunched underfoot, kicking up fine dust.

When Anton and the others arrived, the sky was just beginning to brighten.

The morning mist had not yet dispersed, flowing slowly through the valley and blurring distant objects into silhouettes of varying shades.

The five found a concealed spot to lie in ambush, suppressing their auras to the absolute minimum.

Time passed in silence.

The morning mist gradually dissipated, and the sun leaped up from behind the eastern ridge, dyeing Ashen Valley a pale gold.

Anton spread his Divine Sense, covering the entire Ashen Valley and the narrow road outside it.

After breaking through to the Fourth-Layer Foundation Establishment, the range of his Divine Sense had expanded even further. His perception radius now approached three thousand meters.

'At this rate of increase, by the time I break through to the Golden Core Stage, my Divine Sense's radius will probably be twenty or thirty kilometers.'

'And the attack range of the Sword Pill is equivalent to the range of my Divine Sense.'

'That means the enemy would be cut down by the flash of my sword before they could even see me.'

'This is the power of the Flying Sword Skill.'

Just as he was marveling at this, Anton's Divine Sense suddenly caught a convoy heading in their direction from a distance.

"They're here," Anton said in a low voice.

Summers and the other three were startled for a moment, but in the next instant, they also saw the distant silhouette of the convoy appear outside the valley.

Seeing this, the way the four of them looked at Anton changed slightly, now holding a trace of astonishment.

'Such sharp perception!'

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