The Elven Cultivator

The moment he stepped onto the battlefield, Anton spread his Divine Sense, blanketing the field for a thousand meters in every direction.

So, the instant Moloch moved, Anton noticed and turned his head to look.

Moloch was more powerfully built than the average Lizard-man. His muscles were knotted, and his murky, vertical pupils shone with undisguised killing intent.

He wielded a double-bladed War Axe, its blades etched with blood-red markings that pulsed with a faint, flowing light. It was clearly a magical item.

'Golden Tier.'

Anton assessed his opponent's strength at a glance, a bright glint flashing in his eyes.

'I've more or less tested the limits of my martial skills. I was just looking for a worthy target to test my Techniques on, and now one has delivered himself to my doorstep. That saves me some trouble.'

Moloch closed the distance in an instant. Without a word, he swung his axe down, the blade's shriek as it tore through the air sharp enough to hurt one's ears.

Anton neither dodged nor evaded. He simply raised his hand as if to grasp the air. A deep, almost tangible, ethereal light rose from beneath his skin, coalescing into translucent, illusory armor over his body.

Iron Shirt Spell!

CLANG!

The resonant clash of metal on metal exploded outward. Moloch's War Axe was stopped dead in midair, unable to move another inch.

Moloch's pupils constricted, a flicker of horror flashing in his yellow, vertical eyes.

'His War Axe is a Micro-Light Level magical item. Combined with my Golden Tier strength, a single swing can cleave through solid steel with ease. Yet this Elf caught it bare-handed?'

'This is completely different from any Elf I've ever encountered.'

'Since when did Elves produce someone who relies on brute physical strength?'

Startled and suspicious, Moloch quickly retreated. His yellow, vertical pupils were fixed on Anton, a hint of wariness in their depths.

He was only just now realizing that this Elf was far more formidable than he had ever imagined.

"You're strong," Moloch said, his voice low. "State your name."

Anton curled his lip, uninterested in playing along with this warrior's battlefield rituals. With a mere thought, a gentle breeze manifested and lifted him off the ground, leaving him hovering in midair.

Wind Manipulation Technique!

Immediately after, Anton's figure blurred, and he shot forward like a streak of light.

Seeing Anton ignore him, Moloch's expression turned grim, and the killing intent in his eyes flared.

"I thought I was arrogant, but I never expected to meet someone even more arrogant than myself."

The scales on Moloch's body bristled slightly as a ferocious aura erupted from him.

"Let's see if you can keep that same expression after I've chopped off your limbs!"

The moment the words left his mouth, he gripped his axe with both hands and swung it forward violently.

ROAR!

The blood-red markings on the axe blade flared. A spectral dragon's head, formed from pure Magic Power, burst from the weapon, its massive maw of interlocking fangs lunging to devour Anton.

The spectral image carried a faint, oppressive aura, and the very air grew thick and sluggish in its wake.

Anton's expression remained placid. He curved his fingers into a claw and made a grasping motion at the empty air.

In that instant, misty clouds of five colors—white, cyan, black, crimson, and yellow—materialized from the void. They intertwined into a swirling mass and rushed to meet the spectral dragon's head.

Five-Element Suppression!

With the Taichu Hiding Skill as his foundation, Anton could freely manifest the True Essence of the Five Elements, allowing him to cultivate nearly any Technique.

This included top-tier Techniques like Five-Element Suppression.

This Technique, rooted in the energy of the Five Elements, could erode the primal energy of all things and dissolve any form of energy-based attack.

The moment the five-colored cloud collided with the spectral image, it was a perfect example of the soft overcoming the hard. The energies vied to envelop the phantom, and with a single swirl, they completely eroded it out of existence!

Moloch's face fell. He stared at the scene, his expression one of pure disbelief.

'My ultimate technique, 'Dragon's Maw'—a skill even more powerful than a fifth-circle Magic spell—was just neutralized that easily?'

But Anton's assault had only just begun.

He looked down upon Moloch from his high vantage point and pressed his palm downward through the air.

A beam of azure, chilling light shot from his palm, transforming into a piercing column that crashed down on Moloch, carrying with it a bone-deep cold.

Ice Soul Profound Light!

Moloch hastily raised his War Axe to block. With a deafening BOOM, the entire weapon was visibly coated in a layer of white frost, which then spread wildly down the handle.

He felt a chill slither up his arm like a venomous snake. His blood seemed to freeze and his Magic Power stagnated in its wake, leaving his entire right arm instantly numb.

"Damn it!"

Moloch frantically channeled his Magic Power to dispel the cold as he rapidly retreated.

But Anton gave him no room to breathe. With continuous waves of his hand, he sent beam after beam of Ice Soul Profound Light crashing down, forcing Moloch into a desperate, clumsy defense.

The surrounding Elves and Lizard-men were all dumbfounded.

That was a Golden Tier Lizard-man, one of the strongest Warriors of the Molten Spike Tribe, and he was being completely overwhelmed by a young Elf?

Elena was utterly dumbstruck, a storm of shock raging in her heart.

'Golden Tier... Anton actually broke through to the Golden Tier...'

'A Golden Tier who isn't even an adult!'

'In the entire history of the Silver Moon Race, no one has ever ascended to the Golden Tier before coming of age.'

'The scene before her was shattering her understanding of the world.'

Eleanor was frozen in shock, her emerald eyes filled with disbelief.

She knew that with Anton's talent, reaching the Golden Tier was only a matter of time, but she never expected it to happen so soon.

Within the Silver Moon Race, she was considered something of a genius herself, but she was still only at the lower Silver rank. Anton, on the other hand, was already a Golden Tier powerhouse. It was a good thing she'd given up on comparing herself to him long ago; otherwise, she'd probably want to dig a hole and bury herself from shame right about now.

"Anton's gotten so strong, so fast,"

said Romance, the most straightforward of the group, her eyes wide with surprise.

But she quickly snapped out of it. Her face lit up with excitement, and she waved her frost-marked axe, cheering loudly.

"Anton, finish him!"

The longer Moloch fought, the more terrified he became.

'The strength I prided myself on is useless against him.'

'My techniques are neutralized with ease.'

'My defenses are like paper against his attacks.'

'This isn't a fight. It's a one-sided slaughter.'

All of Moloch's earlier confidence had evaporated, replaced by sheer terror. The thought of retreat began to take hold.

"Trying to run?"

Anton saw right through Moloch's intentions and gave a disdainful laugh. He raised his right hand, and a dazzling light began to dance between his fingers—a crackling, purple-and-white web of lightning, from which faintly came the roars of dragons and tigers.

Staring at the lightning in Anton's palm, an unnatural chill crawled up Moloch's spine. The primal, bestial instinct deep in his bloodline shrieked a frantic warning.

Without a moment's hesitation, he scrambled backward, desperately trying to create some distance.

But it was too late.

As Anton thrust his right palm forward, the bolt of lightning shot from his hand.

At first, it was but a thread of light, but in the next instant, it swelled into a seven or eight-meter long serpent of lightning. It closed the distance in the blink of an eye and pierced through Moloch's chest.

BOOM!

A deafening thunderclap erupted, accompanied by a blinding flash of light.

The Lizard-man's body convulsed. A look of horror and despair had just begun to form on his face when the lightning exploded from within, tearing his formidable, Golden Tier physique into charred fragments. Before the bits of flesh and blood could even hit the ground, they were incinerated into ash by the electrical fire.

All that remained was his War Axe, which fell to the ground with a CLANG, the blood-red markings on its surface as dim as dying embers.

Anton drew his hand back, placing it behind him. The lightning vanished, leaving only a single wisp of smoke to curl into the air.

He looked at the ashes on the ground and nodded to himself.

'As expected of a Thunder Skill, renowned for its sheer destructive power. Truly formidable.'

Meanwhile, the fighting all around had, at some point, stopped.

Elves and Lizard-men alike stared blankly at his figure, unable to snap out of their stupor.

Since the fighting began, there had never been a death at the Golden Tier.

But today, that precedent had been shattered.

A Golden Tier Lizard-man had been killed, clean and simple, right before their very eyes.

And the one who had done it was Anton, someone they never would have expected.

For a moment, an eerie, dead silence fell over the entire battlefield.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!