The Elven Cultivator

A cold wind swept in from the Northern Wilderness, racing over the rugged ridges of the craggy hills. It continued southward, slamming into the Dragon's Spine Mountains on the southeastern edge of the Eldron Plain.

The Dragon's Spine Mountains, an interwoven tapestry of countless peaks and canyons, stood like a great stone wall, isolating the Eldron Plain from the outside world.

The terrain here was treacherous, with only a few natural passes offering passage.

Kresol Dragon City had built military outposts in these passes, guarding all routes into and out of the plain.

Anvil Fort was one of them.

It was situated at the top of a gentle slope, overlooking the vital north-south thoroughfare from its high vantage point.

Below the slope, about a kilometer away.

In a shrub-filled hollow, five figures were huddled amidst withered vegetation and rubble, blending almost completely with their surroundings.

Coarse burlap cloaks covered their bodies, adorned with withered grass, dead leaves, and dirt gathered from the area. From a distance, they looked just like a few unusually shaped bushes.

Without a close and careful look, it was impossible to spot anything unusual.

Roblon lay prone at the edge of the hollow, his gaze fixed warily on the gray outpost at the top of the slope. He was as still as a stone.

Beside him, Reid had been curled up for so long that his limbs were growing sore and numb. He couldn't help but shift slightly and whisper, "How much longer?"

"Soon," Roblon glanced at him. "Just hold on."

Reid winced, but he obediently stilled himself.

The other three also remained silent, their breathing shallow as they did their best to stay motionless.

Their small team was different from ordinary Adventurers.

They didn't hunt fierce beasts, delve into ruins for rare treasures, or accept contracts to escort caravans or guard manors.

They were in the smuggling business.

They specialized in traveling between the Eldron Plain and the Green Highlands, buying and selling the unique products of each region for enormous profits.

Items from the Eldron Plain—like Honeybell Flower nectar, fluorescent moss powder, and swamp crocodile hides—weren't considered rare within the plain, nor were their prices particularly high.

But once they crossed the Dragon's Fang defensive line and brought them to the Green Highlands, the prices would instantly multiply by several, or even ten, times.

The reverse was also true.

Wind-copper ingots, thunder-grass seeds, and rock-antelope marrow oil from the Green Highlands were likewise extremely scarce and highly valuable resources in the Eldron Plain.

The profit margin was astonishingly large.

A small smuggling team of five or six could earn over a hundred Gold Coins from a single successful round trip.

Split among them, that was twenty to thirty Gold Coins each.

To put that in perspective:

An experienced, veteran Black Iron Tier Adventurer, risking life and limb to complete a hunt or escort mission, would often be paid less than a single Gold Coin.

But a single smuggling run could earn them what would take an Adventurer months, or even a full year, to make.

It was precisely because of these shocking profits that so many people flocked to the smuggling trade.

Of course, the risks in this line of work were also high.

If caught by the Dragon Race, the only outcome was death.

No exceptions.

Roblon and his companions had already made a few runs. Having tasted the sweet rewards, they had completely abandoned their old adventuring work to devote themselves wholeheartedly to the grand enterprise of smuggling.

And Anvil Fort was the target they had recently and carefully selected.

This military outpost was garrisoned by sixty to seventy Dragon Race soldiers, and its commanding officer was said to be a high-blooded Dragon Race of the upper Silver rank.

In addition, there was a Vassal Army of over two hundred Gray Scale-men in the outpost.

Among all the military outposts along the Dragon's Fang defensive line, Anvil Fort's military strength wasn't the weakest, but the surrounding terrain was complex and offered good cover.

As long as they scouted the location, figured out the patrol schedules, and learned the approximate timing for the changing of the guard, their chances of slipping through were quite high.

After another ten minutes or so, there was still no movement ahead.

The expected patrol never appeared.

Roblon frowned in confusion. "Strange. According to the usual pattern, the patrol should have passed by now."

"Something doesn't feel right," Reid said suddenly. "Look at the outpost."

The others followed his gaze toward the outpost and noticed something was wrong.

Anvil Fort, normally grim and silent, now had many faint figures moving back and forth on its walls. It looked like some kind of situation was unfolding.

"Did they catch some other smugglers?" Reid frowned.

Roblon shook his head. "Unlikely. What kind of smuggler would ignore all the other routes and make a beeline for Anvil Fort?"

The others thought about it and agreed.

Reid asked, "What do we do now?"

Roblon hesitated for a moment before gritting his teeth and saying in a low voice, "The situation has changed; we can't wait any longer. We'll use the chaos at Anvil Fort to sneak past. Remember, no complications. Ignore what's happening up on the slope, and be quick about it."

Unwilling to give up so easily, the other four immediately nodded in agreement.

The group silently climbed out of the hollow. Crouching low, they moved forward, following the line of shrubs at the edge of the slope.

As they drew closer to the slope, their pace gradually slowed until they stopped completely.

Even Roblon, who had just warned them against complications, said nothing to stop his companions. He simply stared, just as dumbfounded as the rest, at the scene on the slope above.

The scene unfolding before them was completely beyond their imagination.

On the slope above, hundreds of Gray Scale-men surged forward like a tide. Their grayish-brown scales merged into a single mass under the daylight, resembling a gray torrent flooding the hillside.

A charge that terrifying should have been unstoppable.

But in reality, they were the ones being slaughtered.

Blocking their path was a streak of silver-white sword light.

The sharp, cold light formed a vicious arc, weaving back and forth through the gray torrent.

There were no screams, no clash of metal. Wherever the sword light passed, the Gray Scale-men's charge was cleanly severed as if by an invisible blade, and entire swathes of them fell in silence.

The gray torrent was brought to a dead stop by the silver-white light. Like a wave crashing against a reef, it shattered, leaving behind a field of corpses and pools of blood.

In the space of a few breaths, the number of Gray Scale-men on the slope was reduced by more than half.

In the midst of this one-sided, bloody slaughter, a slender figure was particularly eye-catching.

He walked up the slope, his pace unhurried, as if strolling through his own courtyard. His casual demeanor was utterly at odds with the surrounding carnage.

The silver-white sword light danced and flashed before him, a precision killing machine reaping life after life with deadly efficiency.

No matter how the Gray Scale-men roared and charged, they could not get within ten meters of him.

When they suddenly came to their senses, they realized most of their comrades had been slaughtered, leaving only twenty or thirty of them alive.

In that instant, terror filled the faces of the remaining Gray Scale-men. With strange cries, they broke rank and fled in all directions.

But their two legs were no match for the sword light, which moved faster than lightning. Soon, they were all slaughtered.

The sword light then returned to the mysterious man's side, transforming into a silver-white glow that enveloped him completely. Like a meteor, he instantly crossed over a hundred meters and vanished into Anvil Fort.

A new round of battle cries soon erupted from within.

Only then did Roblon and the other four manage to snap out of their daze, their mouths dry and their hearts pounding in their chests.

In all their years of wandering, they had seen many powerful individuals, but never had they witnessed such a bizarre and terrifying method of slaughter.

In just three or four minutes, over two hundred Gray Scale-man soldiers had been completely wiped out. The man was terrifyingly powerful!

"Who... Who was that?" one of the companions stammered.

Reid hesitated. "The Fallen Dragon Association?"

News of the Fallen Dragon Association's attacks on the Dragon Race had long since spread throughout the Eldron Plain.

But the Fallen Dragon Association had always confined its activities to Bishui Port; no one had ever heard of them attacking a military outpost on the Dragon's Fang line.

"It doesn't seem like the Fallen Dragon Association," Roblon said, his expression grave. "As far as I know, the Association always operates in groups, from as few as two or three to more than ten. There's no record of a member acting alone, nor have they ever attacked a military outpost."

The men looked at each other, their faces filled with shock and uncertainty.

'If it wasn't the Fallen Dragon Association, then who was it?'

Attacking a military outpost was practically the same as slapping Kresol Dragon City right in the face.

The Dragon Race would surely hunt down the attacker with furious abandon.

Besides the Fallen Dragon Association, who else would be so bold as to provoke Kresol Dragon City?

"Do you guys think..." Reid suddenly spoke up, "that he can handle the Dragon Race inside Anvil Fort?"

Roblon hesitated before saying, "The other Dragon Race soldiers are one thing, but the commanding officer of Anvil Fort is an upper-rank Silver expert..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but his meaning was obvious.

The others also nodded subconsciously.

To Adventurers like them, who were only at the White Rank, a high-blooded Dragon Race of the upper Silver rank was an unstoppable, terrifying force.

'The mysterious man was powerful, and his methods were bizarre, but could he really kill all sixty to seventy members of the Dragon Race, including their commanding officer...?'

The thought hadn't even fully formed in their minds when their gazes froze, locked on the outpost's main gate.

The familiar, slender figure walked out from the gate.

His stride was as unhurried as before, and his clothes were not stained with a single drop of blood.

Only then did Roblon realize with a jolt that the sounds from Anvil Fort had, at some unknown point, fallen completely silent.

Looking at the figure standing at the main gate, the fate of the Dragon Race inside was all too clear.

The five Adventurers all drew in a sharp breath, their faces etched with shock and disbelief.

At the top of the slope, the mysterious man's gaze slowly swept his surroundings before suddenly snapping to where the five were hiding.

In that instant, Roblon's heart nearly stopped beating.

Fortunately, the man quickly looked away, turning into a streak of light that rapidly vanished over the horizon.

Roblon let out a heavy sigh of relief, slowly unclenching his fists to reveal palms slick with cold sweat.

The other four looked as though they had just narrowly escaped death.

If a being that powerful had decided to act against them, they would have been utterly helpless.

Thankfully, he didn't seem to care about a few small fries like them.

Staring at the corpses that littered the slope, Reid couldn't help but shudder. "The skies over the Eldron Plain are about to change."

The others remained silent.

Anvil Fort had been attacked and its garrison completely annihilated. In a way, this was even more serious than the Fallen Dragon Association's attack on the garrison at Bishui Port.

One could only imagine the uproar this would cause once the news got out.

"We can't stay here any longer. Let's get out of here, quickly."

Roblon took a deep breath, suppressing the turbulent emotions in his chest, and led the way forward.

As if waking from a dream, the other four hurriedly followed him.

The group quickened their pace and soon disappeared into the shadows of the pass.

Silence returned to the hillside.

Only the cold wind continued to howl, stirring up withered grass and rubble as it whirled and moaned among the corpses.

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