SWISH!
The second Arrow Raine fired was once again deflected by the Undead Garson’s swinging axe. The sharp arrowhead scraped a fleeting trail of sparks across the heavy axe face before falling silently into the darkness.
However, this brief interference gave the four-person squad enough time to regroup.
Before they could even secure their footing, the Undead Commander, a veritable avatar of a Death Deity, charged at them once more with a momentum that threatened to crush everything in its path.
The mottled Long-handled Giant Axe swept up a gale of death, chopping down right at their heads!
"Let Old Sodden test your weight!"
The Dwarf’s sturdy figure stomped forward fearlessly. Like the most solid boulder, he resolutely positioned himself between the War Axe and his companions.
BOOM!
The heavy axe blade slammed viciously into the battle-scarred Giant Shield. An explosion of sparks illuminated Sodden’s glaring, wide-eyed face in a flash of bright white.
Even though he had already cast Unbreakable Fortress, the sheer force—enough to split mountains and shatter stones—still caused his stout body to shudder violently. The soles of his boots skidded half an inch backward across the bone-strewn ground.
Raine’s fingers swiftly swept over his Quiver. The light sensation at his fingertips made his heart sink. He did not have many Arrows left.
Beside him, Kaelin’s breathing grew increasingly rapid. The simply bandaged wound beneath her Arm Armor was clearly eroding her condition.
On the other side, the Colorful Ball that Winnie had forcefully launched bombarded the dense black mist surrounding Garson. However, like a drop of water falling into boiling oil, it only stirred up a violent churning before being mercilessly swallowed by the viscous Negative Energy.
"This won’t work! Earth Person boy, think of something quick!" Sodden squeezed out a low growl through gritted teeth. His Shield had sustained several dents under the continuous heavy blows. "These old bones are harder than the rocks in the deepest parts of the mines!"
Maintaining his intercepting stance, Raine’s brain raced as he carefully assessed the situation before him.
The only way to forcibly defeat this powerful Undead Commander seemed to be utilizing the chaotic, complex terrain to kite him. But that would inevitably turn into a protracted war of attrition. They would likely pay a heavy price, and someone might even fall here forever.
Furthermore, there were hundreds of temporarily confused Undead Soldiers surrounding them. They were like a Sharp Sword hanging over their heads. No one could predict when their consciousness, torn between Negative Energy and their residual will, would revert into an abhorrence for the living.
Once the Undead Army was driven by Negative Energy again, they would be completely overwhelmed.
"I must find a faster way to end the battle," Raine thought.
Raine’s gaze passed the frantically swinging War Axe and landed once more on the imposing, burly skeleton.
Since Kaelin’s bloodline call could cause confusion among the ordinary Undead Soldiers, it undoubtedly proved that the residual will of these former warriors had not been completely obliterated by Negative Energy.
Therefore, Garson, the Duke Fenglang—the hero who had led three thousand Clan soldiers to make a blood oath to "fight to the death without retreat" right here—should possess a will more resilient than anyone else’s.
Could it be that there wasn’t a single shred of light left deep within his bones?
But clearly, Kaelin’s bloodline resonance alone was not enough to pierce the thick layer of ice covering the depths of Garson’s skeleton.
What else was there? What else could touch the essence of his soul more than the blood of his descendant, and make him remember who he truly was?
A thought, like a meteor streaking through the night sky, suddenly dispelled the fog in Raine’s mind—the Wolf’s Oath!
It was the ancient Gemstone that symbolized the duke’s authority and encapsulated the glory of the entire Fenglang Clan.
For Garson Ice Trace, it was never just a symbol of status, but the crystallization of honor, the embodiment of responsibility, and the totem subjected to his Soul Binding!
If there was anything in this world that could touch his residual consciousness more than a descendant’s bloodline, it had to be the Wolf’s Oath!
No, to be more precise, both the descendant’s blood and the Wolf’s Oath were indispensable.
Only by presenting both of them in front of him at the same time could they perhaps successfully awaken that deeply buried will!
But where exactly was the Wolf’s Oath?
Raine’s piercing gaze rapidly swept over the Undead Garson’s entire body.
The tattered Armor that had weathered five hundred years was empty. Between the crevices of the thick bones glowing with an ominous black hue, he didn’t see any sparkle resembling a Gemstone.
Had it been taken by his enemies back then? Or was it lost somewhere on the battlefield?
There was only one method left.
Raine took a deep breath. Deep within his pitch-black eyes, a gleam quietly flashed past.
Rival’s Perspective, activate.
In the final moments before its fall, the entire underground fortress had become a living Purgatory.
In front of the gates of the Frost Fang Tunnel, Raine saw what the duke looked like back when he was still flesh and blood.
Garson Ice Trace’s hair and beard were entirely white. His wrinkled, aged face was etched with a glacial, biting resolve.
Bloodstains and sweat soaked his resolute face, intertwining with the ancient indigo tattoos that spread from his forehead down to his neck, presenting a breathtakingly fierce pattern.
The Heavy Armor on his body was already battered and shattered, covered in deep claw marks and dents. His left shoulder Armor was completely torn apart, revealing a mangled, bloody wound.
Yet, despite the heavy blade of the massive Long-handled War Axe in his hands being chipped and curled, he still gripped it tightly.
By his side stood the last few dozen members of his Personal Guard. Almost all of them were heavily injured, their heavy breathing rising and falling in succession.
Most of the guards’ Wolf Head Battle Helmets had been lost, exposing foreheads similarly covered in tattoos and faces filled with determination.
Some were wrapped in bandages from head to toe, while others forcefully propped up their bodies using a Broken Spear. Yet, their eyes were like the unmelting ice of the Northern Territory, steadfastly converging on their Commander.
"Patriarch!" The one-eyed Personal Guard Captain dropped to one knee. With a desperate, blood-weeping plea, he cried out, "I beg you! For the future of the Fenglang Clan, you must retreat through the Path of the Last Breath! We are willing to bleed out our last drop of blood for you right here!"
"Foolish words, child. When has Garson Ice Trace ever stood behind you in his entire life?" Garson slowly shook his head, his blood-soaked, pale hair clinging to his forehead.
He leaned down to help the kneeling Personal Guard Captain up. A warm, fatherly kindness surfaced on his bloodstained, resolute face.
As soon as his words fell, his expression shifted drastically. The kindness vanished entirely, replaced by a battle intent as resolute as a towering mountain.
Garson fiercely raised his curled-edge War Axe, his pale hair and beard flowing without wind. "My children, warriors of Fenglang, we have long since had no need to retreat, because beneath our feet lies the culmination of our glory.
"They seek to steal our future, but they do not know that countless soldiers of the Alliance Army are assembling behind us.
"Let us go and ignite this final beacon for our comrades-in-arms behind us! Warriors, charge with me!"
With that, Garson didn’t hesitate in the slightest. His aged, burly body was like a blood-drenched giant peak as he charged toward the Frost Fang Tunnel.
"Fight to the death! Fight to the death!" The surviving Personal Guard let out a deafening roar, tightly following behind him one after another.
Passing through the secret tunnel, they arrived at the rear flank of the Magical Beast army in the main gate area. Garson took the lead, abandoning all defense. He poured everything he had into every strike. Using his own flesh and blood as the price, he frantically tore through the Demons’ frontline, surprisingly clearing out an entire area wherever he passed.
The Combat Techniques he executed were incredibly fierce. The Long-handled War Axe was like a Death Deity’s scythe, whipping up a storm of blood and sequentially hacking massive Magical Beasts to pieces one after another.
However, personal valor was ultimately too limited in the face of this endless beast tide. At the exact moment he swung with all his might to split open the skull of a giant beast spewing acid—
SQUELCH!
A Bone Spike stained with dense black mist suddenly thrust out from his blind spot, viciously piercing through his already heavily scarred chest.
Garson’s burly body jerked, his forward momentum coming to an abrupt halt.
He lowered his head and looked at the pale Bone Spike that had pierced his heart. There was no terror or pain in his eyes—only bottomless exhaustion and a smile of expectation.
His old eyes blurred, as if seeing the future after the Black Tide had receded. He saw the children of the Northern Territory running freely across the snow, their laughter a sound he missed so dearly.
Using the very last of his strength, he forcefully twisted his body. The War Axe spun rapidly, carrying his ultimate will to cleave the ambushing Demon—along with the Bone Spike—into two halves!
But this also exhausted everything he had left.
His burly body slowly dropped to its knees. With a CLANG, the War Axe slipped from his grasp, splashing up a spray of blood.
The surrounding Personal Guard let out roars of despair, desperately trying to protect him, but they were submerged one by one by the surging Demons. Their final battle cries were swiftly swallowed by the shrieks of the beast tide.
His vision began to blur, and all sounds began to recede like the tide.
In the final fraction of a second before his consciousness sank into the Eternal, his blood-covered left hand struggled to reach the inner lining of his chest Armor. Stored there was the Wolf’s Oath, the symbol of his lifelong glory and vows.
Just as his trembling palm gripped the Gemstone tightly, his arm dropped weakly.
In the exact moment his body fell forward, this fist-sized azure Gemstone slipped quietly from his loosened grip.
CLACK.
A nearly imperceptible light sound, almost entirely ignored on this clamorous battlefield.
The Gemstone, carrying the entirety of the Fenglang Clan’s glory, rolled a few times in the blood and dust. Ultimately, it rolled silently deep into a crevice within the Shadow of a pile of rubble and Demon corpses not far away.
With the frantic surge of the subsequent beast tide, that gleam of azure light—just like the final extinguished fire of its master’s life—was rapidly swallowed by the boundless darkness, until it was completely buried within the ruins.
Raine abruptly snapped his consciousness back, unable to stop panting violently as if he had personally experienced that despairing final curtain call.
But he had no time to think about anything else. He instantly locked onto the corner in his memory where the Gemstone had rolled.
"Cover me!" he yelled hoarsely. Like an arrow leaving the bowstring, he dashed fiercely toward that spot, entrusting his back entirely to his teammates.