Chapter 369: A Strong Mage's Soul Is Exactly What We Need

"What nonsense? The taste of the Void? The Void has a taste? Even if it did, when did you ever taste it? Have you ever been to the Void?" Negril was utterly baffled by Hemer.

Hemer stole a glance at Ang, saw him watching, and immediately gained courage—he scampered over to Lightning, licked its hat.

The big cat's fur bristled, it thrust out a tiny paw, swung hard—and from the moment it swung, the paw swelled into a massive claw, slapping Hemer flying.

Hemer flew backward over ten meters, rolling and plowing a furrow before finally stopping.

After a long while, Hemer got up, scurried back to Negril's side, and acted as if nothing had happened: "The taste of the Void."

Alright, Negril now understood what "the taste of the Void" meant—did the big cat carry the taste of the Void?

What was the big cat? It was a dimensional beast. If it carried that taste, didn't that mean those insects were all dimensional beings?

Coupled with the fact that Hemer didn't recognize them, Negril instantly realized the gravity of the situation: "Could these insects possibly come from the Void?"

Ang tilted his head, turned, and let out a low "Aoooh"—immediately, everyone present gathered.

"What are you doing?" Negril grabbed him.

Ang pointed to the teleportation array: "Kill insects."

"No no no," Negril saw right through him: "You wouldn't be this eager just to kill insects—you wouldn't be this eager to burn fertilizer either. You just burned a huge pile of fertilizer. You haven't farmed in days—you were practically itching to fly back. Now you want to go to the southern marshes? Why?"

Ang said: "Kill insects. It spits."

Negril suddenly understood: "Not spitting—spitting into the fields, right? Fine, fine, let's go, let's go, or you'll keep obsessing over it."

Hearing this reason, Negril knew he couldn't stop Ang from running off—though he hadn't planned to anyway. Destroying farmland was a capital offense in Ang's eyes—no one's fields, not even his own.

They assembled and teleported over—in a flash of light, something lunged at them; the little angel had been holding back too long—holy light blazed!

A beam of light shot out—one flea-insect was left with only four limbs falling to the ground; the rest was utterly obliterated.

Hemer sprinted over, his hooves crushing the limbs, absorbing them into his body—the entire flea-insect vanished without a trace.

Emerging from the teleportation array, they saw a scene of apocalypse: countless flea-insects furiously attacked every living thing before them—cows, sheep, horses, dogs, humans, goblins—any living creature, once caught, was immediately torn apart and devoured.

These flea-insects possessed powerful hind legs and incredible leaping ability—each jump could propel them over ten meters. No matter how fast a person ran, once targeted, they were instantly knocked down.

Vast numbers of creatures scrambled in panic, screaming like headless flies, unsure where to flee—because no matter which direction they ran, insects were there.

The quicker ones bolted straight for the teleportation array—but whether that was wise was debatable, since too many were fleeing there already; the area around the array was piled high with flea-insects. Only when those ahead were overwhelmed and the insects turned to new targets could others push through.

Some didn't give up resistance—in the distance, a loud boom erupted as a massive fireball exploded against one insect—Incineration Spell.

A sixth-level Incineration Spell was hard to cast instantly—unless one had the power of an Arcane Mage, most stored it in scrolls or rings, releasing it only in emergencies.

The earlier Incineration Spell had been cast this way: a woman in purple robes tore open a scroll, aimed it at the insect before her, and activated it—the furious flames swallowed it whole.

But her magic drew more attention—several nearby flea-insects turned to look at her, then slowly crouched, clearly preparing to leap.

The female mage immediately shattered a ring on her hand—a ring of flame flowed from her body to the ground, spreading outward from her as the center, expanding beyond one meter before bursting upward into a ring of fire that encircled her.

"Flame Shield Wall, sixth-level magic," Negril said.

One flea-insect far away leapt forward, its whole body like a cannonball launched, slamming into the Flame Shield Wall.

The massive impact nearly broke through the wall—but since the flame erupted upward from the ground, before it could break through, the insect was blasted skyward, its entire body charred black.

Two more insects leapt forward, one after another, slamming into the shield wall—both were blasted into the air—but after absorbing three impacts, the Flame Shield Wall could no longer hold and silently shattered.

The female mage screamed: "Followers! Followers! Seekers! Come protect me!" Then she tore off her robe.

This move made Negril hastily cover the little angel's eyes—but soon he realized his mistake: beneath the robe was not bare skin, but a conservative fitted suit, made of silk—could it be…

Underneath the robe were sewn tiny pouches, densely packed with scrolls; the mage swiftly pulled one out and tore it open.

The scroll ignited instantly, forming a fireball resting in her right palm, gathering surrounding fire elements, growing larger and larger.

At the same time, her left hand thrust forward, summoning a Flame Shield before her.

CRACK! Another flea-insect lunged forward.

The mage thrust her Flame Shield forward, blocking the insect's lunge, while simultaneously pressing her right-hand fireball onto its head.

A wave of flame erupted, blasting half the insect's body away.

The mage panted slightly, pulled another scroll, and quickly scanned around—soon spotting Ang's group.

But she didn't immediately run toward them; instead she shouted: "Can you fight?"

Ang tilted his head; Negril was puzzled: "Why ask that?"

Lu Se had already drawn his sword: "I am honored to fight for you, beautiful lady."

Only then did the female mage turn and run toward them, shouting as she ran: "Protect me, let me cast!"

Du Luo hesitantly guessed: "Could it be she's afraid we're civilians? She's checking if we have combat ability—if we don't, she won't come near? Afraid we'll attract the insects?"

Negril solemnly said: "No way—it's this dire already, and she's still thinking like that? If others attract the insects, wouldn't it be easier for her to escape?"

The female mage ran fast, leaving a trail of flame behind her—Flame Speed.

She quickly reached Ang's group, didn't bother to look at their faces, spun around, and shouted: "Protect me! I'm the seventh-level Fire Mage Misha—buy me time!"

As she spoke, she tore three scrolls and hurled them forward.

Instantly, three pillars of flame erupted before them—like three barriers. These pillars gathered surrounding fire elements, visibly thickening, growing taller and fiercer.

One flea-insect leapt between two flame pillars—Lu Se dramatically swung his sword, cleaving the insect in two: "Honored to serve you, beautiful lady."

Misha shot him a blank look, shouted quickly: "Don't get distracted—I'll take you out for a date if you survive. These monsters are numerous, their leaping and impact are terrifying…"

Before she finished, Lu Se dramatically discarded his sword, swung a fist the size of a sack of sand, and punched the newly leaping insect back—his battle aura shattered half its body.

Alright, Lu Se's impact was even more terrifying—but Misha still said: "Then conserve your strength—the monsters are many."

She kept pulling scrolls, tearing them—pulling scrolls, tearing them…

Negril couldn't help asking: "How many scrolls do you have?"

Misha didn't turn back: "A few hundred—more in my bag."

"You're so wasteful! Do you fight entirely with scrolls?" Negril couldn't help complaining.

Misha didn't turn back, rolled her eyes: "It's not your money. My family's rich."

She tore sixteen scrolls—before her, sixteen fireballs gathered. Then she shattered her second ring.

Only then did Ang notice: Misha wore rings on both hands—four on each, eight total.

As she shattered the second ring, a small flame bird shot out—it flew toward the first fireball, instantly growing much larger, then flew to the second fireball.

"Oh? Seventh-level Fire Magic—the Rebirth Phoenix can be cast like this?" Negril exclaimed.

Misha finally turned, surprised at Negril—saw he was a "young" dragon, then relaxed: "Never seen it? I modified it. The Phoenix takes too long to cast—I just release a small bird first, let it keep rebirthing, growing stronger with each rebirth."

As Misha spoke, the little phoenix devoured all sixteen fireballs, swelling into a massive flame bird, then flapped its wings and lunged at a distant flea-insect.

The flame bird struck the monster, igniting it into a pillar of fire—the insect writhed, hissing, then collapsed, its body still burning.

Only when the last ember burned out, reduced to charcoal, did the phoenix lift again, slightly larger, and flew toward another flea-insect.

"Uh, Misha… do you know the characteristics of these monsters?" Negril asked curiously.

"Characteristics? What characteristics?" Misha, still controlling the phoenix, asked distractedly.

"Oh, so you don't know—you just guessed blindly, picked the best method. If there were fewer, you might've cleared them all." Negril said.

"Blind guess? You're the blind one. Can you even speak?" Misha retorted—then saw a flea-insect deliberately leap onto the phoenix, its limbs and thighs gripping it tightly, both turning into a fireball.

Before that insect finished burning, another leapt over, clinging tightly to the same fireball.

One after another, flea-insects kept leaping onto the phoenix, forcibly extinguishing its flames.

Misha cried urgently: "Bad! Quick! Set fire to the surrounding houses—help my bird rebirth!"

Negril asked in surprise: "You're only burning now? Why not burn at the start?"

Misha explained: "Can't just burn people's houses—where would they live?"

Negril was torn between laughter and solemn admiration—her actions proved she was truly righteous, kind, and brave.

Ang suddenly asked: "If not houses, burn them—can you?"

Misha asked: "What do you mean?"

Before she finished speaking, she saw Ang sweep his hand forward, producing a row of fireballs—pew-pew-pew—firing them at the phoenix, then swept his hand again, another row.

Twenty per second—unending fireballs formed continuous lines.

Ang didn't use explosive fireballs—ordinary fireballs shot into the clustered insects; each one that entered made the cluster's flames burn brighter.

Within two or three seconds, the extinguished flames surged back out through the gaps.

Misha stared, dumbfounded, watching Ang continuously sweep out rows of fireballs—her mouth widened, her jaw nearly dropped.

Though all were level-two fireballs, the sheer number quickly revived the nearly extinguished phoenix—the original orange-red flames rapidly turned orange, then blue, clearly growing hotter.

Seven or eight clustered insects were burned to charcoal; a blue phoenix soared, its wings flapping with a sound like air being scorched apart.

"C…Cursed Phoenix?" Misha stammered—her own seventh-level magic, Rebirth Phoenix, had been forcibly upgraded by Ang into a ninth-level Cursed Magic?

The Cursed Phoenix remained under Misha's control—she could still direct it to attack other flea-insects, instantly turning them into torches.

The Cursed Phoenix was far more powerful than her seventh-level version—previously, it took five seconds to burn one insect; now, barely a second passed before the insect turned to charcoal.

The Cursed Phoenix soared upward, lunging at new targets.

Misha trembled with delight—a seventh-level mage controlling a ninth-level Cursed Magic—the power was incomparable. Wherever it struck, the target became charcoal. She'd just experienced ninth-level power—so exhilarating.

But Ang didn't stop—he continuously poured fire into the phoenix at twenty per second; the flame bird's every wingbeat emitted a hiss of searing air.

More and more flea-insects noticed the anomaly, surging from all directions, leaping from afar into the giant flame bird.

The phoenix was jolted, sparks flying—such a large insect required considerable heat to burn to charcoal; if enough came, they might truly extinguish it.

Under relentless impacts, the phoenix inevitably dimmed—only to be reignited by Ang's endless supply.

For a time, both sides were locked in a struggle—either burn all the insects, or the phoenix would die.

But then, the phoenix flapped its wings violently—the direction it faced warped the light, as if the air had been heated to the point of bending it.

From its wingtips, the phoenix turned from blue to white, becoming a white-flame giant bird.

"A…Arcane Phoenix! I…I…I…" Misha couldn't speak—overwhelmed, she directed the phoenix to counterattack.

The scorching Arcane Phoenix burned with white flames; wherever it passed, insects turned into fireballs.

At the ninth level, the flame bird had to land on the insect and burn for over a second to consume it, but after evolving into an Art level, the fire bird only needed to collide with it—no pause required—to leave behind a torch.

"Ignites on contact, so satisfying! Art magic! Oh my god, I can control Art magic! My lord, you must be the Flame God! Watch me burn them all clean!" Mia Sha shouted excitedly, ready to ignite every visible insect monster.

He Moer asked, bewildered: "Burn them all? What am I supposed to eat?"

Ang glanced at the ash covering the ground and shrugged indifferently—it made no real difference whether they were eaten or reduced to ash.

The scorching fire bird continued clearing away the insects, nearly finished, when suddenly a voice rang out: "Oh? An Art-level Phoenix? Is there an Art mage here? Perfect—the Void Transport needs a strong mage soul. Go! The endless Void is your true home. Exile!"

With those words, a rift in space suddenly split open before the Phoenix. Unable to stop, the Phoenix plunged headfirst into it.