[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-black-dragon-necromancer":3,"chapter-black-dragon-necromancer-black-dragon-necromancer-chapter-133":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","Black Dragon Necromancer",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2312893,4521,"Chapter 133","black-dragon-necromancer-chapter-133",133,"\u003Cp>At the point where the Sol River violently empties into the Ash Sea, its waters carry volcanic ash and decaying matter from upstream, forming this vast Graywater Delta.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There is no day or night here; eternal gray-yellow mist blankets the land, and the air reeks of a mixture of sulfur, humus, and a cloying, fishy odor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The hot, humid climate causes water vapor to condense into perpetual toxic miasma; occasionally, dark red demonic light surging from abyssal fissures tints the fog a sickly pale gray.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>River and sea water merge here, forming a thick, pus-like greenish-gray fluid. The surface floats with oily rainbows—physical manifestations of abyssal energy seeping through.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beneath the seemingly calm waters lie countless vortices and deep pits, some leading to temporary fissures deeper into the abyss.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>During high tide, seawater floods back in, bringing larval deep-sea demons and coral-like mutated plants. At low tide, black mudflats riddled with holes are exposed, oozing decaying magical residue.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All vegetation displays a sickly gray hue: slender, pale reeds that, when startled, emit collective shrieks like lamentations, releasing hallucinogenic spores.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Twisted trees with branches like exposed bones exude viscous acidic sap beneath their bark. Giant mushrooms with umbrella caps covered in pus-like bumps burst to release corrosive gases.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Withered-looking vines suddenly coil around prey, their surfaces bearing hooked suction cups. The moss layer covering most of the land is soft and slippery underfoot, often concealing devouring pits.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet the dangers extend far beyond this: the Gray Marsh Stalker, resembling a hybrid of giant salamander and crocodile, reaches 6 to 8 meters in length. Its gray-white scales blend perfectly with the marsh backdrop, and its spine bears bony respiratory spines.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Its most threatening ability is its “Corrupting Gaze”—its eyes emit rays that soften flesh, causing prey to slowly dissolve in the mud. As the most common species in the entire marsh, it is every adventurer’s nightmare.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Poison-Saliva Ambusher is a humanoid but hunched demon, standing about 2.5 meters tall, its skin like rotting bark. It excels at mimicking the cries of drowning victims; its drooling saliva has potent paralytic effects.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Its palms have evolved into fan-like webbing, enabling rapid tunneling through mud for ambushes. They typically operate in groups, constructing sticky nest-spires atop tree canopies using venom.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Bone-Spike Toad Demon, squatting like a boulder-like toad, is covered in bony plates. When hunting, it fires dozens of hollow bone spikes from its back; upon impact, these spikes begin pumping digestive fluids into the target.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Ancient Rot-Root, who never associates with other demons, is an ancient half-plant, half-demon entity resembling a hollowed-out tree stump. It is a slow-moving sentient demon whose root system extends over thousands of square kilometers, monitoring the entire delta through subterranean fungal networks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They do not hunt directly but form symbiotic relationships with other demons, exchanging intelligence for “tributes.” It is said they retain memories spanning tens of thousands of years of the Graywater Delta.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Drowned Maidens are rare humanoid high-rank demons, retaining the pre-death beauty of elven or human women, yet their skin bears the ashen-gray hue of drowning victims, their long hair perpetually dripping with decayed water.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They can manipulate water currents and trigger floods; their songs induce hallucinations of suffocation in listeners. Legend says they were spellcasters who willingly threw themselves into the abyss to gain power.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My Lord Verna, the ‘Whispering Shoal’ has been purified and occupied by the Orc Legion. According to frontline intelligence, five days ago, the Orcs’ river fleet successfully crushed the ‘Ancient Rot-Root Council’s’ counterattack at the Thousand-Eye Lake; the remnants have retreated deep into the marsh.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“However, caution is warranted: the Bone-Spike Toad Demon known as the ‘Old Rotwood’ has yet to reveal his true intentions.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Our swamp-toad scouts have continuously monitored his territory and found no indication of his direct involvement in the battle. He seems still in hibernation—or brewing some deeper scheme.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I understand. Tell me about the forces you’ve brought, Tali.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Three thousand drow warriors are ready for deployment; two hundred are your personal guard, the ‘Shadow Blades.’ The rest have been issued silver-inscribed weapons and anti-toxin talismans to resist marsh corruption.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“One thousand jackal-headed scouts are divided into twenty hunting packs; half have already infiltrated the Bone Bridge Labyrinth. Their sense of smell can detect the fungal scent of the Ancient Rot-Root from ten li away.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Five hundred harpies are organized into five raiding squadrons; each harpy’s talons have been soaked in extract from the Toad Demon’s venom glands—this was a trophy taken from ambushes along the edge of the ‘Old Rotwood’s’ territory.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Two thousand goblins are dispersed across thirty-seven mobile outposts.” I pointed to the obsidian-marked positions on the sand table. “They excel at setting tripwire poison-bomb traps in mud. This morning, the first batch of pits was camouflaged with rotting vines.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Tali, the goblins under your command… are there truly only this many?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Verna’s fingertip traced lightly over the troop scroll; her dark purple eyes flickered with sharp skepticism in the dim light.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do not forget: we were summoned to help the Orcs crush the marsh demons from the shoal to the source of corruption. This roster you’ve presented may suffice for a few raids, but it is far from enough to strangle the entire Graywater Delta.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She rose slowly; shadows spread like living things with her movement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“As for the ‘Old Rotwood’… you and I both know he is no ordinary demon. Over the past three months, three legendary adventurers have perished beneath his bone spikes—among them, the Grand Knight of the Order of Retribution, whose remains were never recovered from the toxic marsh.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I do hold over ten thousand goblins, but they are now scattered into three hundred Mobile Corps Commander squads, like thorny vines entwining every burning stretch of the Duke’s domain.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Without these goblins, night and day biting at invaders, poisoning water sources, and ambushing at passes, we would not merely lose villages—we would lose the entire Ironhoof Wasteland.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tali sealed her runes and presented with both hands a sealed letter bearing the gray dwarf rune seal:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But rest assured, Lord Sulede has already deployed. Five thousand gray dwarf warriors have set out from the Dragonspine Mountains; they excel at constructing unbreakable iron fortresses within marshes—this is both reinforcement and a nail.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, Tali lowered her voice:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You understand Lord Sulede’s distrust of the Orcs. He would rather have gray dwarves advance step by step than commit more drow warriors to a war where the ally may not be trustworthy.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My suggestion: first exhaust the ‘Old Rotwood’s’ poison spikes. Once the gray dwarf fortresses are built, we will tighten the noose ourselves.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I understand your reasoning.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Verna tapped lightly on the edge of the sand table; the model of the Graywater Delta rippled in response.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Since our forces are limited, we shall use our limited blades to sever the most critical joints. Except for the observers monitoring the ‘Old Rotwood,’ recall all other troops. We will drive our first wedge deep into this toxic marsh.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As she turned, her robe trailed shadows like night mist.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sulede’s concerns are correct. The Orcs may be temporary allies, but never partners. If you march with a large army, they may very well ‘accidentally’ dump you into the toxic sea—after all, in the abyss’s rules, one less rival for spoils is never a bad thing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…………\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The air over Crystal Horn Bay no longer carried only the sharp salt-and-sulfur stench, but now mingled with tarred ropes, waterlogged wood, steel friction, and the faint mineral odor unique to crabfolk carapaces.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The harbor’s edge, once piled with ruins three months ago, has now been transformed into a clearly zoned area: rope-climbing frames, swaying mock decks, deep-water rowing pools, and even a platform fashioned from an old hull, dedicated to boarding combat training.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>About two hundred crabfolk soldiers performed weighted sprints with astonishing precision. They stood about two meters tall, their main bodies covered in thick, grayish-blue calcified carapaces, with two pairs of sturdy segmented legs that moved with a dense, rhythmic “click-clack,” unnervingly synchronized.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their foremost specialized claws were not all used for combat; many soldiers’ pincers had been modified or fitted with tools—some had internal latches to securely carry logs or metal components.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Others were replaced with more dexterous hooks. They carried sandbags weighing twice their own body weight, dashing back and forth along the shore, white steam venting from gaps in their carapaces for cooling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the deep-water zone, another group of crabfolk operated several old-style double-masted warships delivered by the Orcs. Their four legs anchored them as stably as a foundation on the pitching deck, while their freed forelimbs and claws efficiently handled ropes and adjusted sails.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A team, under Aquilon’s command, practiced emergency patching: one soldier instantly clamped a broken plank with his massive claw, while another swiftly coated the seam with quick-set gel-mud—all within fifteen seconds.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Aquilon, three months gone, you’ve trained your ‘Iron Claws’ well.” Morax’s voice was calm amid the sea wind, his gaze sweeping over the perfectly aligned crabfolk formation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“At this rate, we won’t need to bow to the Orcs—or even the Sea Elves—for our own fleet anytime soon.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The bronze dragon Aquilon turned, spinning his training rod in his hand, his face devoid of pride. He pointed to the crabfolk simulating boarding—movements unnervingly uniform, yet visibly rigid.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Merely surface-level,” his voice was like calibrated gears—precise, flat, unvarying.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“These shell-brains have been pickled too long in the abyss; their core only recognizes overwhelming force. Discipline? Perfect. Order them to leap into lava, and not one claw will tremble.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He shifted tone, the tip of his rod lightly tapping a crabfolk soldier attempting to operate a small winch—his secondary claw clumsy and strained before the delicate latch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But that’s where it ends. In hard battles? They cannot endure the kind of attrition requiring adaptability, morale, and resilience. Once command nodes are severed or the battle exceeds preset instructions, they become nothing but expensive, living roadblocks.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Aquilon retracted his rod and concluded:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“As for fine tasks—sailing and rigging? Acceptable. But repairing delicate components, operating complex ballistae, even reading complex current markers on nautical charts? Better to hire a human apprentice. Beach landings are a glaring weakness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They can row skiffs ashore under arrow rain, but once on land, complex skirmish advances and terrain utilization? Not equal to a human veteran’s finger.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looked at Morax, his bronze pupils reflecting the mechanical, repetitive motions of the training ground.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So do not treat them as an ‘army.’ They are tools—specialized exclusively for ‘boarding at sea’ and ‘underwater sabotage.’\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Used correctly, they’re worth every coin. Used wrongly…” he paused, “they’re just moving piles of scrap metal and carapace—and you’ll waste ship space hauling them back.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hah!” Morax let out a short, cold laugh, his gaze sweeping over the silent armored figures on the field, as if inspecting breathing tools.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Aquilon, my old friend, you’ve fallen into a cognitive error—you’re measuring dragon calculations with a mortal ruler.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He took half a step forward, his voice lowering yet sharpened with cruel clarity:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Inferior races are born as expendables. That is the law etched into the ladder of life. A broken ship can be repaired or rebuilt; a broken carapace is replaced. These crabs can be trained, replenished, mass-deployed—that is their greatest ‘advantage.’”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He raised a hand, pointing toward distant sea flags barely visible beyond the horizon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Look at the Sea Elves—how many years does it take to train a priest-captain who reads ocean currents and commands storms?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Look at humans or Orcs—how much time and resource does it take to train a veteran who can shoot accurately on a pitching deck and retain sanity in boarding chaos?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Morax’s lips curled into a cold, emotionless smile:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“We can afford losses. For us, time itself is the furnace, and they are merely fuel thrown into it. When this batch burns out, the next is already lined up on the training ground. As long as the furnace never dies, fuel never runs out.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He finally clapped Aquilon’s bronze shoulder plate, producing a dull metallic echo:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“As for fine tasks and beach landings? Those are problems for later. Right now, we need something that can immediately enter the sea and clamp onto the enemy’s throat. The rest—we’ll find better tools when we have the leisure.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Looks like the environment really changes people—even the great silver dragon has grown as cold and heartless as the chromatic dragons, hahaha!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hahaha! You’re still as amusing as ever. But speaking of which, Verna has already moved in the Graywater Delta—hurry up with your ships. She’s waiting for your troops and supplies.”\u003C\u002Fp>",2102,"2026-06-20T13:10:04.638Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","c5e10040c31b3ae51c9d5d86a13a3854a352c92e47e66ff80393795ccc89c691","black-dragon-necromancer-chapter-134","black-dragon-necromancer-chapter-132",145,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fblack-dragon-necromancer-cover.jpg"]