[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-black-dragon-necromancer":3,"chapter-black-dragon-necromancer-black-dragon-necromancer-chapter-85":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},2312845,4521,"Chapter 85: Blood-Soaked First Line of Defense","black-dragon-necromancer-chapter-85",85,"\u003Cp>At the edge of the salt marsh, the beach, defiled by the demons’ foul blood and shattered limbs, was no longer merely lost territory in Akuilong’s eyes—it was a vast, meticulously arranged altar, and he was about to offer a grand funeral to the abyssal intruders who had trampled upon it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beneath the beach lay not ordinary alchemical bombs, but “Stratum Resonance Detonators” designed by goblin alchemists, filled with purification materials. They were layered and connected by faint field-line cables, forming a lethal network spanning the entire landing zone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Akuilong stood on a command platform far from the shore, his bronze scales reflecting a metallic sheen under the dim light. His vertical pupils never blinked as he stared at the beach, like the most patient hunter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He waited for the demons’ vanguard infantry to fully cross the beach and crash into the first defensive line, while the larger, slower mid-tier demons—like the illusion-casting Delusion Demons and the bellowing Rampage Demons—stepped squarely into the core of the minefield.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When several massive Glaezes fully emerged from the water and arrogantly stepped onto the beach, Akuilong gave the order: “Resonance. Detonate.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There was no deafening explosion first—instead, the ground sank. The entire beach collapsed downward several meters, as if the earth beneath had suddenly become hollow. Countless demons instantly lost balance and tumbled into the newly formed pits.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, the buried detonators exploded in subtle time delays, triggering sequentially from the beach’s front edge toward the inland. This was not a single blast, but a ground-hugging, multi-meter-thick wave of destruction rolling forward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The alchemical flames glowed an eerie bluish-white, vaporizing demon carapaces, muscles, and bones instantly. The powerful resonance waves shattered demons at the epicenter into raw pulp, while the outward shockwaves acted like an invisible giant hand, hurling outer demons into the air like straw and tearing them apart.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the span of a single breath, the once-crowded, deafeningly noisy beach was utterly cleared. Only a vast, blackened pit, smoking with blueish-gray smoke and molten sparks, remained, along with the acrid stench of ozone, sulfur, and cooked flesh hanging in the air.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The alchemical flames on the beach had not yet fully died out when the demons’ second wave stepped over their charred comrades and surged toward the first defensive line of the salt marsh. Before them stood a damp, seemingly crude breastwork built from marsh mud.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Behind the wall lay silence. Only the marsh’s characteristic breeze, carrying the scent of decay, and… countless pairs of eyes, glowing with fanatic focus, flickered between the parapet gaps and the reed shadows.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the bottom of the trench, seeds had long been buried in the damp soil—“Blood-Deranged Vines,” leaves shaped like dragon scales, their veins flowing with ominous purplish-red sap.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This ancient plant, long banned by all civilized nations, emitted an aura that directly targeted the most primal regions of a creature’s brain, transforming fear into berserk, all-or-nothing rage.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the demons’ vanguard surged onto the beach like a filthy tide, their terrifying dark energy pressure descended like a tangible black cloud over the battlefield. Every fishman felt a trembling deep within their bloodline. Their hands gripping crossbows shook; their scales clung tightly to their bodies; the instinct to retreat nearly overwhelmed all reason.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, behind the lines, the bull-headed shamans, under Akuilong’s cold gaze, began their work. They plunged their hands deep into the earth, channeling pure life energy through the subterranean veins like a precise injection into the soil of the forward trench.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The trench soil instantly “came alive.” Countless purplish-red sprouts burst from the ground at visible speed. These plants did not grow upward—they spread like conscious tentacles, frantically crawling along the inner wall of the breastwork and up the trench slopes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Within a breath, their leaves unfurled, thickening and swelling, the “dragon scale” patterns on their surfaces glowing with blood-red light. Then, at the nodes of these vines, bulbous, pus-like flower buds swelled rapidly—and burst open!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No petals emerged—only thick, unyielding clouds of crimson mist. The gas carried a nauseating yet exhilarating stench of rust, rotting honey, and wild gland secretions, like a living curtain swiftly engulfing the entire first defensive line.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The fishmen’s pupils, previously shrunk in fear, dilated instantly, flooded with wild bloodshot veins. Their hunched bodies straightened; their slender bones groaned under strain. The trembling ceased, replaced by an uncontrollable, bloodthirsty frenzy demanding slaughter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the grotesque demon vanguard entered the optimal range of the fishmen’s crossbows, the silence shattered. “Ready!” ordered the lizardman commander.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From the wall’s crest, countless figures rose in dense rows—tens of thousands of fishman crossbowmen. They did not shout—only a chilling, synchronized clicking filled the air, the sound of standardized repeating crossbow triggers pulled in perfect unison.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Instantly, a cloud of steel darkened the sky, raining death with piercing shrieks. This was a precisely calculated area saturation volley. Arrows arced through the air in lethal parabolas, like a sudden storm, striking with pinpoint accuracy into the dense demon assault formations.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The front-line Imps and Abyss Hounds fell in droves. They might withstand one or two arrows, but in this flawless, all-encompassing storm of steel, no escape existed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The fishmen moved with mechanical efficiency—stand, aim, fire, crouch, reload—the cycle repeated in silence, like a cold, relentless killing assembly line. They maximized cover from the breastwork, minimizing their exposure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>While the demons’ attention was fixed on the frontal arrowstorm, a deadlier strike came from the dense reed beds flanking the line. There lurked the fishmen’s elite “Poison-Fin Hunters,” wielding nerve-toxin blowdarts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These hunters moved soundlessly, like true aquatic predators, targeting only the larger, more threatening demons—such as the Floom commanders leading small units, or the Quashe demons preparing dark spells.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The faint hiss of darts was drowned by battlefield noise. Demons struck often froze mid-charge, then collapsed within seconds, frothing black foam, twitching to death. This silent sniping sowed chaos and panic within the demon ranks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, the heavy ballistae behind the line—crude constructs of thick logs and beast-tendon winches, yet devastating in power—were operated by lizardman warriors. In groups of four, they chanted war cries, turning winches to load giant bolts, as long as spears, into the grooves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With a muffled thunder as the bowstrings released, the heavy bolts became blurred shadows, striking with terrifying kinetic force at the most prominent demon targets. A Rampage Demon swinging a bone club against the breastwork was instantly pierced through the chest; the force hurled it backward, pinning it firmly to the ground.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another bolt pierced the eye of a massive Abyss Toad just as it prepared to spit acid, triggering a localized acidic explosion. Occasionally, giant bolts engraved with spell runes detonated within the demon horde, spraying limbs and flesh everywhere.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet the demons were simply too numerous. Stepping over mountains of fallen comrades, they surged forward like an endless tide, eventually flooding over the breastwork. The sound of crossbow volleys was drowned by demon roars and the brief, dying shrieks of fishmen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The first defensive line, having fulfilled its mission—inflicting heavy casualties, delaying the enemy, and buying precious time for the rear—finally fell silent. But it had proven to the Abyss: every inch of this marsh demanded the dirtiest blood to claim.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As the demons howled over the ruined first breastwork, they faced a labyrinth of trenches resembling scars across the earth. These trenches were over two zhang deep, barely wide enough for three Imps to walk side by side, and intricately interwoven in dizzying zigzags and arcs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The leading demons, having leapt into one trench, were forced to scramble up the opposite, slick, muddy slope—while arrows and throwing spears from the rear line rained down precisely from above.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This constant cycle of climbing and leaping drained their momentum, turning the demon flood into a quagmire, forcing them to scatter and slow. And the quagmire itself was riddled with death traps.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beneath the waterlogged mud lay sharpened hardwood spikes coated in nerve toxin by the swamp toads. Once a demon’s heavy foot sank in, the spikes pierced its sole, triggering paralysis within seconds—then the demon was trampled into pulp by its own advancing kin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The seemingly graspable protrusions on the trench walls were also coated with lethal toxin-tipped barbs. Even the earthen beams arching overhead, meant for cover, concealed sharpened spikes forged from marsh iron, designed specifically for agile demons attempting to leap across.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Harpies emerged like gray lightning, appearing en masse from higher clouds. Using sunlight and cloud cover as concealment, they finally unleashed piercing shrieks and launched their long-prepared ambush.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In groups of three, they moved with flawless coordination, exploiting their superior agility and speed to strike from the demons’ blind spots—especially from directly above and rear-below. The winged Imps and Batwing Soul Reapers, who had been low-flying in constant harassment, were caught utterly off-guard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their claws tore at fragile wings; hooked talons precisely gouged into demon eye sockets. They never lingered—each dive, tear, and climb was clean and swift, creating chaos and voids in the demon ranks before they pulled up sharply, regaining altitude for their next strike.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For a moment, the demons’ ground forces were immobilized in the trench labyrinth, their aerial support pinned down by harpy raids. The lizardman sorcerers stationed on the second defensive line seized the opportunity, launching their own assault—suddenly, the pace of low-tier demon charges faltered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The hidden power of the second defensive line finally revealed its fangs. The lizardman sorcerers, clad in scaled armor, their vertical pupils gleaming, raised their bone staves and totems embedded with primal runes in unison atop the fortress wall.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The marsh’s damp air and stench of blood instantly churned with a more ancient, wilder energy. They stirred the millennia-deep layers of life’s resentment and corrupting miasma within the salt marsh.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One group of sorcerers, led by the Elder Shaman, conjured swirling ink-green toxic clouds atop their staves. These clouds, alive and writhing, rolled across the trenches—demons who inhaled them immediately heard their carapaces sizzle, their flesh melting like wax.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Another group slammed their totem banners into the ground. The mud ahead instantly came alive, sprouting countless giant hands of sludge that seized and dragged charging Imps and Abyss Hounds into bottomless pits.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Older sorcerers chanted guttural, arcane incantations, summoning swarms of blood mosquitoes. These insects ignored the demons’ rough hides, burrowing directly into eyes, ears, mouths, and noses, laying eggs and gnawing from within, dismantling the invaders from the inside out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These primal venoms and elemental curses, though not “elegant,” were brutally effective and insidious. Their effects were immediate and cruel, perfectly complementing the physical defenses’ lethality.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under this sudden, unpredictable storm of sorcery, the low-tier demons, stepping over their falling, melting, or convulsing comrades, involuntarily slowed. For the first time, the eyes burning with pure destructive desire flickered with… hesitation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In past eras, lizardman sorcerers’ power had been like marsh phosphorescence—containing ancient natural might, yet dependent on fragile oral transmission and erratic personal insight. This primitive method caused powerful spells to fluctuate wildly, and lineage often broke within a single generation; glory and decline were separated by no more than a lifetime.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From the founding of the Sorcery Academy, Sakavi, against all opposition, personally ordered the establishment of the “Lizardman Sorcery Heritage and Innovation Institute.” Its purpose was not to force human magical frameworks onto them, but to systematically study, collect, organize, and compile the scattered totem rituals and wild incantations of swamp tribes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Building on the success of the lizardman sorcery line, Sakavi went further, founding the Sorcery Academy itself. This move aimed to comprehensively systematize the primitive magical traditions of all allied races—fishmen, swamp toads, bull-men, boar-men, and others.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Academy organized scholars to study each race’s totems, venoms, and nature pacts, compiling standardized textbooks and implementing the “Shaman-Sorcerer Dual-Track Training System”: shamans preserved their communion with ancestors and deities, while sorcerers specialized in transforming chaotic energies into stable, controllable battlefield power.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This not only dramatically improved the efficiency and quality of sorcerer training, but rooted all races’ core powers within a unified framework—strengthening centralized rule and firmly securing control over each race’s most vital strength.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for shaman training, it was naturally overseen by the Shaman Academy. What to teach, what not to teach, had to be clearly defined. The old, blood-sacrifice-ridden, chaotic doctrines were strictly forbidden from further propagation—this was Sakavi’s ironclad, unbreakable decree.\u003C\u002Fp>",2052,"2026-06-20T13:10:04.638Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","ab17158e745efbefacc4ae0396359b19559cad57c285d5dcb378ea6199b88b53","black-dragon-necromancer-chapter-86","black-dragon-necromancer-chapter-84",145,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fblack-dragon-necromancer-cover.jpg"]