The Elven Cultivator

Two to three hundred Lizard-men charged at once. Their roars were deafening, the scene utterly terrifying.

The nearby Elves all gasped, horrified expressions appearing on their faces.

"Quick, save him!"

Although she couldn't stand Anton's usual behavior, Eleanor was the first to react in this critical moment. She shouted and raised her Magic Staff. As an esoteric incantation poured from her lips, a pale green glow of Magic Power rapidly gathered at the staff's tip.

The surrounding Elves, as if waking from a dream, all moved to help.

Before the light screen, Finn and Rosaline's expressions changed as well. They immediately sent a message, ordering the nearest Elf Guards to rush to the hollow.

Among the crowd, only Romance remained calm, standing in place without moving.

She knew Anton all too well. He would never do something he wasn't sure about. Since he dared to lure the Lizard-men here, he definitely had a plan to deal with them.

Her judgment was supported by Anton's own expression, which remained as serene as ever, even while surrounded.

Sure enough.

The next moment, Anton suddenly opened his mouth and let out a clear cry, like the roar of a dragon.

This cry was completely different from his previous one. It was higher, sharper, and carried a strange, soul-shaking power.

In an instant, countless ripples of sound, almost tangible, suddenly appeared, sweeping out in all directions with him at the center.

The air seemed to be churned by an invisible giant hand, creating visible, distorted waves.

The Elves rushing toward the hollow suddenly staggered, feeling their blood churn and their heads grow dizzy.

Some of the weaker Elves turned deathly pale and swayed on their feet, having to lean against trees to keep from collapsing.

If even they, at a distance, were affected this much, one could only imagine the fate of the Lizard-men at the center of the sonic attack.

As the ripples of sound passed, the charging Lizard-men were thrown back as if they had slammed into a giant wall. Their bodies flew backward uncontrollably, their internal organs feeling as if they had been crushed together. Blood burst from their noses and throats, instantly painting the sky red.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

One after another, the Lizard-men were sent flying, crashing heavily to the ground.

Some clutched their heads and rolled on the ground, letting out piercing shrieks.

But most fell silent the moment they hit the ground. Dark red blood slowly trickled from their mouths, noses, and ears, forming shocking pools beneath them.

In just a few breaths, the hollow was already littered with the corpses of Lizard-men.

The Elves who had recovered stared blankly at the scene before them, their mouths dry. They gaped, unable to process what had just happened for a long time.

Eleanor was so utterly stunned that her Magic Staff nearly slipped from her grasp.

Even Romance, who had expected something, couldn't help but stare wide-eyed in astonishment at the scene.

'What kind of technique is that?'

'Anton's never used it in front of me before!'

Before the light screen, Finn and Rosaline were also frozen in place, their faces etched with shock and disbelief.

"Just now... what was that?" Rosaline's lips trembled slightly.

Finn didn't answer. He had also never seen such a bizarre yet domineering combat technique.

What shocked him even more was the level of power Anton had just displayed.

He had seen it clearly. That single blow had wiped out nearly all the Lizard-men, save for the Black Iron Tier elites.

To instantly kill nearly two hundred Lizard-men with one strike... not even a Silver Tier Caster could necessarily achieve that.

In the center of the hollow, Anton's expression remained perfectly calm, as if he hadn't just slaughtered hundreds of Lizard-men, but merely brushed away a fallen leaf.

He pulled his black steel sword from the ground, his gaze sweeping over the surviving Black Iron Tier Lizard-man elites.

They were staggering back to their feet.

The pain hadn't scared them off; instead, it had fully unleashed their ferocity. They roared and charged at Anton again, their yellow, vertical pupils burning with cruelty and madness.

Anton was fearless. With a flicker of movement, he moved to meet them like a phantom.

A biting sword light tore through the air like lightning. The two Lizard-men at the front of the charge froze, their heads flying from their shoulders as hot blood gushed out.

At the same time, a Lizard-man closed in from behind Anton, its sharp claws swiping viciously at the back of his neck, a cruel glint flashing in its murky yellow eyes.

However, just as the claws were about to strike, a layer of dark gold brilliance suddenly flashed across Anton's body!

The dark gold light was as thin as a cicada's wing, looking as though it would shatter with a single poke. Yet when the claws, strong enough to tear through solid rock, struck it, they produced a dull THUMP. The claws seemed to hit tough leather, unable to advance even an inch.

Forbidden Golden Armor!

The cruelty in the Lizard-man's eyes instantly turned to astonishment. It put forth all its strength, its muscles bulging, but its claws remained firmly blocked by that thin layer of dark gold light, unable to leave even a single white scratch.

SLASH!

A flash of the blade followed, slicing off its head as easily as a hot knife through butter.

Anton's assault didn't stop. He charged into the throng of Lizard-men like a tiger among sheep, his dancing blade reaping life after life.

The Lizard-men tried to counterattack before death or sneak up from behind, but no matter how they attacked, they couldn't break through the dark gold light on Anton's body. They could only watch, roaring in despair, as their comrades fell one by one to the sword of that terrifying god of slaughter.

Within moments, with a final, short scream, the last Lizard-man's headless body swayed a few times before crashing to the ground.

After the dull thud of its head hitting the ground, a dead silence fell.

All the Elves stared dumbfounded at the figure standing with his sword in the center of the hollow, a shared sense of dreamlike absurdity washing over them.

'More than two hundred Lizard-men, including a double-digit number of Black Iron Tier elites... just... wiped out without any resistance?'

'The power Anton just revealed completely shattered their understanding of what a 'peer' could be!'

'Was this even the Anton they knew?'

After a long while, it was Romance who finally broke the silence.

She jumped down into the hollow, walked up to Anton, and whispered, "I thought you wanted to keep it a secret?"

Anton chuckled softly. "Not anymore."

Romance glanced at him, nodded, and said no more.

She was the only one present who knew the secret of Anton's training in both magic and martial arts. So, although she was surprised at how much stronger he'd become, it was easier for her to accept the reality before her than it was for the others.

Anton's gaze swept over the Lizard-men corpses on the ground. He then turned to the Elf Guards, who had arrived at some point. "Are you still going to tally the scores?"

The guards exchanged glances, hesitating, at a loss for words.

It was the first time they had ever encountered such a situation, and for a moment, they didn't know how to handle it.

Fortunately, Finn and Rosaline arrived soon after.

The two of them stared at Anton, sizing him up for a long moment as if he were some strange, undiscovered creature. Then, Finn announced, "The assessment is over. Anton takes first place."

There was no other choice. Anton had single-handedly slaughtered every last Lizard-man, so the assessment naturally couldn't continue.

There was no need to tally the points, either. The combined scores of all the other participants wouldn't even come close to Anton's alone.

"The reward will be delivered to your residence tomorrow."

Finn said with a gentle expression, all traces of his previous sternness gone.

Faced with such a monstrous genius, even he couldn't afford to put on airs.

Besides, in Anton, he saw the hope of the Clan's return to glory.

Anton had no objection. He gave a slight nod, then took Romance by the hand and left.

He had no desire to stick around and become a panda gawked at by a crowd.

In the crowd, Eleanor stared blankly at Anton's departing figure, a complex mix of emotions churning within her.

'She had once thought Anton was sitting on a mountain of treasure, completely unaware of its value. She'd seen him as a flighty person who squandered his gifts.'

'She had even seen him as a rival, secretly vowing to surpass him and prove to her grandfather that she was the more exceptional one.'

'But now, all those assumptions and obsessions seemed so ridiculous.'

'It wasn't that Anton didn't cherish his talent; he had long since converted that talent into real strength. He simply disdained showing it off.'

Disappointment, dejection, shock, shame... a tide of emotions washed over her, leaving Eleanor frozen in place, utterly at a loss.

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