Chapter 230: Deathly Stillness · Shockwave

If someone could sweep their hand and cast a row of spells—any level of spell—they would definitely not be a novice, because this involves elemental interference.

If one can cast more than two spells at very close range, it indicates excellent elemental control.

What startled the undead even more was that he cast a row of twelve explosive fireballs, while the opponent cast a row of thirteen explosive fireballs—exactly one more.

Was this intentional or coincidence?

The undead swiftly waved his hand, and the explosive fireballs before him shot out with a hissing sound, while his form rapidly drifted backward.

Ang also waved his hand, and the explosive fireballs before him hissed out, precisely meeting the undead's fireballs one-to-one and detonating them; the extra one shot toward the undead.

The undead retreated while waving his hand, drawing circles in front of him—each circle condensed a deathly arrow at its center.

The extra explosive fireball was detonated by a deathly arrow, and more deathly arrows shot toward Ang.

Deathly arrows were his true specialty, not fire magic—he had only used fire to humiliate his enemy, but realized the opponent was not someone to be trifled with, so he immediately switched back to his strongest type.

Deathly arrows continuously formed and kept firing at Ang without pause.

This was actually a standard mage duel tactic: overwhelming firepower, adaptability, exploiting openings, and finishing in one burst.

But this played right into the skeleton's hands.

The undead soon realized with shock that the skeleton's firepower was even fiercer—its explosive fireballs outnumbered his shadow arrows.

After canceling each other out, some explosive fireballs still pierced through the shadow arrow curtain, reaching close range, then curved sharply under targeted lock and slammed into the undead.

A semi-transparent shield appeared on the undead, blocking the fireball's damage.

"Ku ba da, what kind of damn skeleton is this?!" The undead cursed in magical tongue.

A full-fledged undead archmage couldn't overpower a skeleton in firepower? No one would believe it.

This couldn't continue—failing to defeat a skeleton quickly, or even just holding ground, would tarnish his reputation as an undead archmage. It was a skeleton—a low-intelligence, magic-inept skeleton!!

The undead had already retreated a distance, pulled out a bone tablet, and crushed it—immediately, a "giant" wraith burst forth from the tablet, wailing as it lunged at Ang.

Why describe it as "giant"? Because normal wraiths are only as big as a fingernail, swarming and drifting about, wailing endlessly—they are the lowest-tier spirits of the undead world, spawned by the tiniest trace of deathly aura, wiped out in droves by sunlight.

But this fingernail-sized wraith had grown to a diameter of three or four meters, its volume increased by tens of thousands of times—and so had its wailing.

A wraith's greatest destructive power is its wail—if one appears in your room and you fail to crush it, it will scream "Aaaah… Aaaah…" right beside your ear, driving you sleepless, neurotic, and mentally shattered.

If a swarm of wraiths appeared in a room, the room would become uninhabitable.

If it was a giant wraith, its cry was no longer mere screaming—it became a skill: Wraith's Howl.

The giant wraith unleashed its howl at Ang—a green soundwave, visible only to souls, rippled outward and slammed into Ang's soul.

Ang tilted his head—no reaction.

The giant wraith paused, drifted closer a few steps, and howled again.

Still no reaction?

It drifted closer again, wailing as it moved, until it blocked right in front of Ang's ear, screaming directly into his ear canal.

Wraith's Howl is a spiritual attack—if one's spirit is exceptionally strong, they can ignore its damage. Coincidentally, Ang's spiritual power…

Ang could ignore this damage, so he ignored it—but the little wraith on his finger couldn't. Unable to bear it, the little wraith lifted its head and screamed at the giant wraith: "Aow!"

A circle of holy soundwaves struck the wraith, like flesh confronting radiant holy light—instantly vaporized, leaving only the scent of holy burn, resembling sun-dried bedding.

The undead, deeply focused on casting his spell, was startled by this holy scent and cried out: "Holy light?"

But the little wraith was too small, still clinging to Ang's hand—the undead didn't see it clearly, nor notice where the holy scent came from. Was there an ambush?

The undead involuntarily raised his guard, but no matter how hard he thought, he could never imagine the source of holy light was on Ang's finger.

The little wraith's holy light inflicted bonus damage on undead creatures; Ang's holy light, being too pure, lacked this bonus damage.

The arrow was already nocked—the undead had no time to investigate. He thrust both hands skyward in a gesture of holding up the heavens and shouted: "Sleeping souls, awaken! This is the Paradise of the Dead…"

The Paradise of the Dead… As the undead cried out, black smoke surged from the earth—pure deathly aura, most potent under eternal night.

The ground trembled violently. Soon, dozens of gray-white hand bones pierced upward, and dozens of skeletons rose from the earth.

Seeing these skeletons, the undead was not pleased—he was furious. "Ku ba da, I forgot—Harvey summoned the entire army to attack the human frontlines." The mighty Paradise of the Dead, weakened by these external factors, lost half its power…

The scattered skeletons hardly qualified as the Paradise of the Dead, but the surging deathly aura still offered him slight comfort.

Clip-clop! A rapid galloping sound came—two bone horses, their eye sockets swirling with soul flames, dragged a cart at breakneck speed, shaking it so violently the fire pot inside bounced up and down, up and down.

The bone horses arrived to guard.

These two bone horses pulling the cart were not horses—they were horse-shaped skeletons. Due to their size, they were far stronger than humanoid skeletons at the same level.

But before they could charge, a white figure shot out sideways—two massive hooves slammed into the flanks of the bone horses, kicking them flying.

The horses and cart rolled several times before crashing down, the cart shattered, the fire pot scattered.

The two bone horses rose, staring at what had kicked them—it was another horse, wearing a "leather hat" on its head.

The horse raised one front hoof, curling its toes toward them, and growled: "Your opponent is me, you bony sticks. Come, let you taste the might of Lightning Grandpa."

The soul flames in the bone horses' eye sockets flared upward—they stamped their hooves, and their bodies shimmered as soul armor slowly formed, transforming them into stout, powerful undead warhorses.

The two bone horses snorted, blue flames spewing from their nostrils, glaring at Lightning—as if to say: Still skinny now?

Lightning sneered, turned his rear toward the bone horses, and wiggled his rump: "Come on, chase me—if you catch me, I'll fight you."

The bone horses were so enraged their souls nearly burst from their nostrils—they charged straight at Lightning.

The undead was furious—he ordered the bone horses to protect him, not chase after another horse.

With a thought, the two bone horses glared hatefully at Lightning, then turned and galloped back toward the undead.

As they turned, Lightning turned too—what horse could match Lightning's flexibility, with hooves that could flip over his forehead? He caught up in moments and kicked the bone horses' rumps again.

In the end, only one bone horse stayed to deal with Lightning; the other raced toward the undead to guard its master.

The scattered skeletons surrounded the undead—dozens of skeletons couldn't do much, useful only as shields.

The undead channeled deathly aura into his hands, then fixed his gaze on Ang—the soul focus locked onto Ang.

Since he had no eyes, "soul lock" was more accurate.

"Surge, mist of death…" A simple incantation—part of the deathly aura turned into mist, spreading rapidly and shrouding the undead's position.

Ang watched the mist nervously—he could no longer see the undead. Without line of sight, he couldn't lock on. Could mist block line-of-sight lock?

Explosive fireballs had to stop—this level-two compressed spell wasn't very effective against mages with strong shields; it took tremendous effort to break through.

This inability to see the enemy gave him a bad feeling—he instinctively reached into the Palace of Rest.

This was his first encounter with a powerful mage—he had no experience, didn't even know what the enemy intended by shrouding himself in deathly mist. He could only adapt.

Some force rapidly gathered within the mist—suddenly, a black beam shot out, striking Ang, while a soul's roar echoed from within: "Deathly Shockwave!"

Ang felt as if struck by Holy Radiance—not just a flash, but the entire beam slamming into him. If hit head-on, it would be worse than Holy Radiance.

So the undead had hidden himself in mist to unleash a surprise ultimate.

The Deathly Shockwave not only struck Ang but also scattered the mist, revealing the undead inside. Seeing Ang engulfed in the black beam, the undead grinned and waved: "Done! Be honored, foolish skeleton—I had to use this ultimate against you. This is your glory… Ku ba da! No damage?"

The black beam faded—Ang stood unharmed, holding up a purple-gold skeleton before him. The Deathly Shockwave had all struck the purple-gold skeleton.

The residual force seeped through the skeleton's gaps and reached Ang—but it was so fragmented it caused no harm, instead flowing into him like the cool breeze of the Palace of Rest, nourishing Ang's bones.

The undead's eyes widened—if he had eyeballs, they'd have fallen out. He trembled and muttered: "Pur… Purple-gold body? Whose purple-gold body?"

That was a good question—whosever it was, the implications were dire. There were only two Lords of Mourning in this world: Harvey and Locke.

The purple-gold body was undamaged, but scorched and smoking from the Deathly Shockwave. Ang shook it off—it didn't fall apart—and shoved it back into the Palace of Rest.

If Lord Solid Bone Locke knew his skeleton was being used as a shield, he'd probably rise from his grave and blast Ang's head open.

"W… Who are you?!" the undead trembled.

"God of the Undead," Ang murmured, sweeping his hand before him—immediately, a mist formed, shrouding his position.

God of the Undead? The undead was stunned. What did that mean?

If Ang claimed to be Lord Solid Bone Locke, he might have half-believed it—after all, Ang had produced a purple-gold skeleton.

There were only two purple-gold skeletons in the world: one belonged to Locke, the other to Harvey. Harvey was still alive—so it couldn't be him. Thus, this purple-gold skeleton must belong to Locke.

But claiming to be God of the Undead? The undead couldn't help laughing. If you want to scare someone, don't make such ridiculous boasts.

But Ang's actions made him wary again—deathly mist? What was this skeleton planning?

"You want to imitate me? Too bad—only one Deathly Shockwave can be cast in a dead zone within a short time, because I've already consumed all the deathly aura here." The undead laughed.

Whether Deathly Shockwave or any large-scale spell, the consequence was similar: all elements in an area were depleted, leaving insufficient energy to cast another spell.

Thus, water mages preferred humid environments, fire mages preferred volcanic vents—environment greatly amplified spell effectiveness.

The deathly aura had been exhausted. Even if this skeleton wanted to imitate, there was no deathly aura left to draw upon. Was he just trying to block line-of-sight?

As the undead wondered, a powerful force gathered within the mist—then a black beam erupted.

"How can…!" The undead barely managed a cry before being swallowed by the black beam—along with the surrounding skeletons and bone horses, all vanished without a trace.

Ang stared at the spot where the undead had been, then looked at his hand—his palm burned with soul flame, converting into pure deathly aura.

What was deathly aura? Merely thin soul energy. If it ran out, no problem—just be extravagant and convert soul energy instead.

He had nothing else—but soul energy? Ang had the most. Because he was the God of the Undead!

Realizing this, Ang suddenly wanted to return something to that undead—this technique was far too valuable.

But looking around, there was no trace left of the undead—he had been utterly erased.

At that moment, a flash of white light appeared behind him. Ang turned—just in time to see a holy beam pierce from the top of the Relay Tower, then vanish. Simultaneously, a terrifying roar erupted from within the tower.

No good! Little Heaven used Holy Radiance on the Relay Spirit?

Just then, a sudden flash of Bai Guang appeared behind him; Ange turned to see a holy beam of light pierce from the top of the relay tower, then vanish, while at the same time, a terrifying roar echoed from within the tower.

Bad! Xiao Tian used holy light to strike the Relay Spirit?