Chapter 85: Blood-Bathed First Line of Defense

The edge of the Saltwater Swamp, that beachhead tainted by the filthy blood and severed limbs of demons, was now, in Aquilon's eyes, not just lost territory, but a giant altar carefully arranged. And he was about to offer a grand funeral for those Abyssal visitors who had trampled here.

Buried beneath the beachhead were not ordinary alchemical bombs, but 'Strata Resonance Blast Mines' designed by gnome alchemists, equipped with purification materials. They were buried in layers, connected by weak field cables, forming a death vein covering the entire landing site.

Aquilon stood on a command platform far from the coast, his bronze-colored scales reflecting a metallic luster under the dim sky light. His vertical pupils stared unblinkingly at the beachhead, like the most patient hunter.

He was waiting for the low-level demon fodder to completely rush past the beachhead and hit the first line of defense, while those mid-level demons with huge bodies and slow movements, such as Glabrezu that constantly created illusions and roaring Vrocks, would just happen to step into the core of the buried minefield.

When several huge Glabrezu bodies completely left the water and arrogantly stepped onto the beachhead, Aquilon issued an instruction: "Resonance, detonate."

There was no deafening roar first; what happened first was the subsidence of the ground. The entire beachhead collapsed downward by several meters, as if the ground beneath had suddenly become a hollow shell. Countless demons instantly lost their balance and fell into the suddenly appearing sinkhole.

Immediately following, the blast mines buried underground detonated one after another with a subtle time difference, extending from the very front of the beachhead toward the inland! This was not a one-time explosion, but a destructive shockwave several meters thick, sweeping forward along the ground!

The alchemical flames appeared in an eerie blue-white color, and the demon carapaces, muscles, and bones were directly vaporized under this high temperature. The powerful resonance wave crushed the demons in the explosion core into the most basic meat paste, while the outward-spreading shockwave was like an invisible giant hand, throwing the demons further out into the air like straw, then tearing them into fragments.

In just the time of a single breath, the beachhead, which had been crowded and noisy, was completely cleared. Only a huge, charred sinkhole emitting blue smoke and lava sparks remained, along with the pungent smell of ozone, sulfur, and cooked meat permeating the air.

The alchemical flames on the beachhead had not yet completely extinguished when the second wave of demons stepped over the charred remains of their colleagues and surged toward the first line of defense in the Saltwater Swamp. In front of them was a wet breastwork built from swamp silt, which looked simple.

Behind the wall, it was dead silent. Only the breeze peculiar to the swamp, carrying the scent of humus, and... countless eyeballs flickering between the gaps in the wall and in the shadows of the reeds, fanatical and focused.

At the bottom of the trenches, seeds had long been buried in the moist soil. It was a type of "Blood-Mad Vine" whose leaves resembled dragon scales and whose veins flowed with ominous purple-red.

This was an ancient plant long listed as taboo by major civilized nations. The aura it emitted could act directly on the most primitive part of a creature's brain, turning fear into a fanatical rage of mutual destruction.

When the demon vanguard surged onto the beach like a filthy tide, the terrifying evil energy pressure, like a substantial dark cloud, shrouded the entire battlefield. All Murlocs felt a tremor from the depths of their bloodline. Their hands holding the repeating crossbows were trembling, and their scales were pressed tightly against their bodies due to fear. The instinct to retreat almost overwhelmed everything.

Just then, under Aquilon's cold gaze, the Minotaur shamans in the rear position began their work. They plunged their hands deep into the earth beneath their feet, and through the earth veins, they injected a pure life energy, like a precisely injected medicine, into the soil of the forward trenches.

The soil in the trenches instantly "came alive." Countless purple-red buds broke through the soil at a speed visible to the naked eye. These plants did not grow upward, but like tentacles with consciousness, frantically spread and climbed along the inner wall of the breastwork and the slopes of the trenches.

The leaves unfolded within breaths, becoming thick and plump, the "dragon scale" patterns on the leaf surfaces shining with blood-red luster. Immediately after, at the nodes of these vines, giant, pus-like flower buds swelled rapidly, then burst open violently!

There were no petals; what burst out was a mass of scarlet, misty substance that could not be dissolved. This gas carried a nauseating and unusually stimulating sweet, fishy smell, a mixture of rust, rotten honey, and the glands of some beast, like a living curtain, quickly shrouding the entire first line of defense.

The Murlocs' pupils, which had contracted due to fear, instantly dilated, filled with frantic bloodshot lines. Their hunched bodies gradually straightened, and their weak skeletons emitted an unbearable "creaking" sound. The trembling stopped, replaced by an uncontrollable, violent rage that needed to be vented through slaughter.

When the hideous demon vanguard stepped into the optimal shooting range of the Murloc crossbowmen, the dead silence was instantly torn apart. "Ready!" followed the order of the Lizardman commander.

Dense figures suddenly stood up on the wall—thousands of Murloc crossbowmen. They did not shout, only a scalp-numbing clicking sound—the sound of the crossbow triggers being pulled at the same rhythm.

In an instant, a cloud of steel rose from the wall, splashing out with the screech of death. This was a cover-fire volley calculated with precision. The crossbow bolts drew lethal parabolas in the air, like a sudden storm, accurately falling into the dense charging formation of the demons.

The Imps and Abyssal Hounds charging at the front fell in droves. They might be able to block one or two arrows, but they could not find any path to survival in this rain of arrows with no dead angles.

The Murlocs moved mechanically and efficiently: stand, aim, volley, crouch, reload. The entire process cycled in silence, like a cold, killing assembly line. They used the cover of the breastwork to minimize their own exposure.

Just when the demons' attention was attracted by the frontal rain of arrows, a more lethal strike came from the dense reed marshes on both sides of the defense line. Lurking there were the "Poison Fin Hunters," the most elite among the Murlocs. They used blowpipes with neurotoxins.

These hunters were silent, like true aquatic predators, specifically targeting larger, more threatening demon targets, such as Vrocks commanding small squads or Quasits brewing evil spells.

The subtle sound of breaking air was almost drowned out by the battlefield noise. The demons hit by the arrows often suddenly stiffened in the middle of their charge, then spat black foam within seconds, convulsing and falling. This silent sniping created great chaos and panic in the demon formation.

Finally, there were the heavy ballistae at the rear of the defense line, made of thick logs and animal tendon winches, looking rough but having astonishing power. Operating them were Lizardman warriors. They worked in groups of four, shouting slogans, turning the winches with force, and loading giant crossbow bolts comparable to spears into the slide.

Accompanied by the dull roar of the bowstrings releasing, the giant crossbow bolts turned into blurred black shadows, shooting toward the most conspicuous targets in the demon ranks with terrifying kinetic energy. A Dretch that was waving a bone club to smash the breastwork was instantly pierced through the chest, the huge force carrying it backward, pinning it firmly to the ground behind.

Another crossbow bolt accurately pierced the eyeball of an Abyssal Giant Toad preparing to spray acid, triggering a small-scale acid explosion. Some giant crossbow bolts engraved with spell inscriptions occasionally set off explosions in the demon army, with severed limbs and flesh splashing everywhere.

However, the number of demons was simply too large. They stepped on the corpses of their companions piled up like mountains, like an endless tide, and finally crossed the breastwork. The sound of repeating crossbows was gradually replaced by the roars of demons and the short, sharp screams of Murlocs before death.

The first line of defense, having completed its mission—killing and delaying the enemy in large numbers and winning precious time for the rear—finally fell into silence. But it had already proven to the Abyss that every inch of this swamp needed to be exchanged with the filthiest blood.

When the demons howled and crossed the breastwork that had become ruins, what greeted them was a maze of trench networks like scars on the earth. These trenches were over two zhang deep, wide enough for only three Imps to walk side-by-side, and intertwined in a complex, dizzying zigzag and arc shape.

The demons charging at the front had just jumped into a trench when they had to struggle to climb the slippery, muddy slope on the opposite side, while overhead, arrows and javelins from the rear defense line fell accurately.

This repeated climbing and jumping greatly consumed the momentum of their charge, making the demon torrent like falling into a quagmire, forced to disperse and slow down. And the quagmire itself was full of crises. The bottom of the trenches, the walls, and even the footholds for climbing were full of death traps.

In the silt soaked at the bottom, there were hardwood barbs coated with neurotoxins by the Swamp Toads. Once the heavy footsteps of the demons fell into them, they would be easily pierced through the soles of their feet, paralyzed and stiffened within seconds due to the poison, and trampled into meat paste by subsequent companions.

The protrusions on the walls that looked like they could be grasped were also special barb hooks coated with lethal toxins. Even on the trench earth beams that provided cover overhead, there were spikes made of swamp ironwood, specifically designed to deal with agile demon targets trying to jump over the trenches.

Harpies appeared collectively from the higher clouds like gray lightning. They used the sun and clouds as cover, not emitting shrill screams until this moment, launching a long-planned raid.

They worked in groups of three, cooperating tacitly, using flexibility and speed far exceeding the opponent, launching attacks from the visual blind spots of the demon flying units, especially from directly above and behind below. The Vrocks and Bat-winged Nalfeshnees that had been circling and harassing at low altitude were caught off guard.

Sharp claws tore at fragile membrane wings, and hooked toes accurately gouged toward the demon eye sockets. They never lingered in battle; every dive, tear, and pull-up was clean and neat. After creating chaos and a vacuum in the demon formation, they would quickly disengage, climb back to altitude, and prepare for the next strike.

For a time, the demon ground troops were unable to move in the trench maze, and the air support was also tightly entangled by the Harpies. The Lizardman warlocks stationed on the second line of defense also took the opportunity to launch an offensive, and the charging pace of the low-level demons actually showed hesitation for a time.

The power that had been hidden on the second line of defense finally revealed its fangs. Those Lizardman warlocks with scales and vertical pupils raised their bone staves and totems inlaid with primitive runes in unison on the stockade wall.

The swamp humidity and blood smell that had originally permeated the air were instantly stirred by a more ancient and wild energy. They stirred the life resentment and corrosive miasma that had settled in this Saltwater Swamp for thousands of years.

A team of warlocks, led by the shaman elder, condensed churning ink-green poison clouds at the tips of their bone staves, which swept through the trenches like living things. The moment the demons inhaled them, their carapaces hissed, and their flesh melted like wax.

Another team of warlocks raised their totem flags and slammed them heavily onto the ground. The mud in the area ahead immediately activated, stretching out countless giant hands made of silt, dragging the charging Imps and Abyssal Hounds into the bottomless quagmire.

Even older warlocks chanted hoarse, special incantations, summoning swarms of flying blood mosquitoes. They ignored the demons' rough skin, drilling directly into their eyes, ears, mouths, and noses, frantically laying eggs and biting inside, disintegrating these invaders from within.

These primitive voodoo and elemental curses derived from the source of the swamp were perhaps not "elegant," but they were incomparably vicious and difficult to deal with. Their effects were intuitive and cruel, perfectly supplementing the lethality of the physical defense line.

Under the strike of this sudden, unpredictable magic storm, the low-level demons trampled on the companions ahead who were melting or convulsing, and their footsteps slowed down involuntarily. In those eyes filled with pure desire for destruction, for the first time, there was... hesitation.

In the past years, the power of Lizardman warlocks was like phosphorus fire in the swamp. Although it contained ancient natural power, it relied on fragile oral transmission and elusive personal understanding. This primitive method made powerful witchcraft strong or weak, and the inheritance was extremely easy to break, with glory and decline often separated by only one generation.

At the beginning of founding the Magic Academy, Sakavi overcame all dissenting views and personally ordered the establishment of the "Lizardman Warlock Inheritance and Innovation Institute." Its purpose was not to forcibly apply human magic frameworks, but to use systematic academic methods to go deep into the swamp tribes, collect, organize, and compile those scattered totem rituals and wilderness incantations.

On the basis of the success of the Lizardman Warlock system, Sakavi went a step further and founded the Warlock Academy. This move aimed to carry out a thorough systematic integration of the primitive magic inheritances of all subordinate races such as Murlocs, Swamp Toads, Minotaurs, and Ogres.

The academy organized scholars to systematically study the totems, voodoo, and natural contracts of each race, compile standard textbooks, and promote the "Shaman-Warlock Dual-Track Cultivation System." Shamans continued their communication with ancestors and gods, while warlocks specialized in transforming chaotic alien energy into stable and controllable battlefield power.

This not only greatly improved the cultivation efficiency and quality of warlock talents, but also incorporated the core power of all races into a unified framework from the cultural root, not only strengthening centralized rule but also firmly controlling the core power of each race in his own hands.

As for the cultivation of shamans, it was naturally uniformly responsible by the Shaman Academy. What should be taught and what should not be taught must have a clear and unmistakable definition. Those primitive doctrines filled with blood sacrifice and chaos in the past were absolutely not allowed to continue to spread. This was an iron law set by Sakavi that could not be crossed." ===== CHAPTER 86 =====