Chapter 436: Sandbag and Perspective

Flick—

A fierce wind swept through.

The coarse black-gold warhammer shattered the airborne 【Extreme Cold Pearl】 into powder.

Sizzle.

Instantly, the hammerhead, seized from the dark elves, was coated in a deep blue, drifting downward with swirling white frost mist.

Then Luo De flicked his right hand, gripping another Slime Black Sword.

A foul, rotting stench spread rapidly along the blade, thick plague-green mist surging forth.

The Plague Domain's domain skill: 【Decay as One】.

Combined with the Slime Black's innate Corrosion Domain—dual domains!

Behind Luo De, the spirit of the Star Ambusher flashed past, applying 【Hunger for Prey】.

【Hunger for Prey: Mark the target. When the target is hostile toward you, your agility gains a 25% bonus. The skill fails if the target is over 500 meters away.】

He snorted with cold amusement: "Round two, half-elf."

This half-elf was just strong enough to surpass him—but not beyond defeat.

Perfect as a test subject to refine his skills after ascending to seventh tier!

And he's purely physical, no spiritual arts—pure meat puppet, rare as hen's teeth!

That's why he forbade Tally from joining.

"Domains?"

The half-elf Virgil saw the man wielding one hand of frost mist, the other of poison mist—his smugness vanished instantly.

"So what? With my body forged by a thousand hammer blows, I'll crush you!"

Boom!

The floor tiles exploded, air blasting outward in all directions—Virgil vanished.

The two collided again!

The battle's clamor echoed across the entire Axe Beach sky.

The militia's war horn blared loudly through the town!

Against the tide of fleeing civilians, Wen Na Pweir slipped out of the naga tent and froze in shock.

She saw the smoke rising from the ancient castle's spire.

She had left some money and cherished belongings behind in a house on Axe Beach—letters, photos, mementos from her parents, irreplaceable to her.

She'd fled too hastily after yesterday's attack, had no time to retrieve them.

She didn't intend to break the soul contract with Luo De—she simply wanted to take these precious things with her before leaving for good.

"Mr. Luo De?"

As a fair broker of the soul contract, Luo De had granted Wen Na limited permissions, allowing her to sense his location.

Mostly to soothe this fragile creature.

And now,

Wen Na clearly felt through the soul contract that Luo De was inside the chaotic count's castle.

But why?

He'd said he'd stay out of it—and from their brief time together, he seemed a pure pragmatist.

Yet slightly different.

Wen Na could tell this man, though lustful, treated his women well—just look at how refined that succubus was, despite her insolence.

"Could it be… could it be that he…?"

Wen Na's expression twisted.

Due to her Lilith bloodline, her appearance stood alone among humans—men had coveted her for years.

Especially a man like Luo De, so lecherous—it was hard not to imagine the worst.

"Bah, I'm focused on revenge—where's the time for this?"

Wen Na felt trapped.

Luo De was handsome, powerful—like a hero stepped straight from a romance novel.

But after seeing how brutally he tangled with that naga woman in bed, any lingering thoughts vanished.

Yet she reconsidered.

What if Mr. Luo De actually wiped out Bugo Torres or the Sandlin people?

Wen Na couldn't help imagining the scene of her vengeance fulfilled.

"I—I have to go see."

Buzzzz!

The war horn's roar jolted the weary old militia captain awake.

His pale brows snapped open, eyes blazing with terrifying intensity.

"Lieutenant! Form ranks!"

He straightened his back, ignoring the chaotic streets, commanding coldly toward the training ground.

Then he turned, entered his room—gray beard and hair didn't slow him as he swiftly strapped on the longsword he'd carried for thirty years, ready to march.

Beside him, a male half-deer leaned on his arms, smirking:

"Hey, Old Ed, you finally get it, right? What's so great about this tiny Axe Beach?"

"I have family here."

"Family is family—they've got their own lives. So do you."

"I'm old. Just a nobody's old man."

"But your 【Heroic Amplification】 is the highest I've ever seen. Sixty-something? That's when you fight hardest! Old Ed, step out of your comfort zone—believe me, if you accept becoming a 【Hero Candidate】, you'll outshine every other candidate!"

"Heh… half-deer, I know what you're after. Overconfidence leads to ruin—just like me."

"You didn't fail capturing Wen Na Pweir—it was that rescuer, a pure monster, his spiritual strength terrifying. If you meet him, run. With your aging seventh-tier mid-stage, you won't even survive one blow."

Captain Ed didn't answer. He burst through the door.

As always, he scanned the neatly lined-up militia squad, confirmed their expressions and spirits were sound.

Then his throat released a cold, unwavering voice.

"March! Rescue Lord Bugo!"

Boom!!!

The long-handled black-gold warhammer, dragging white extreme-cold frost mist, slashed past Virgil's nose, coating half his face in blue ice crystals.

The hammer slammed into the ground—its heavy spiritual force instantly shattered the thick stone floor into a spiderweb of deep craters.

The shockwave and frost exploded outward instantly.

Virgil gasped—pain lanced through his chest, where flesh and ice were fused, slightly caved in.

And plague poison coiled through his abdomen, seeping into lungs, brain, organs—everywhere ached.

Yet he forced himself forward, pushing through the shockwaves and frost.

A simple, unadorned punch, bursting white air currents, pressed down again.

The man before him remained calm, stepping lightly—seven massive steel vines erupted from the ground.

Virgil had anticipated it—his iron-like arms were corroded, flesh peeling—but he twisted forward, snapping every vine.

Simultaneously, he sidestepped the plague-coated black sword in the man's right hand and lunged with another straight punch—aimed at the temple!

Boom!!!

The man was blasted backward again, crashing through another wall, stones raining down.

Yet within moments, he stood again, unharmed.

"How many times now…?"

Virgil's heart sank.

This man was only seventh tier—but his defense was terrifying. Every strike nearly broke through—yet never did.

Most crucially, his techniques were countless, his spiritual energy seemingly endless—not a hint of fatigue!

Until just now, Virgil had been certain it was all an illusion.

He never believed a seventh-tier could outlast him in endurance.

But now?

He wasn't sure.

Virgil steadied himself, refusing to yield—then suddenly, searing pain pierced his chest.

He looked down in shock—the plague-wrapped black sword had pierced clean through his forged body.

When?

(End of Chapter)