Chapter 588 - 503: Worsening Injuries (Part 2)
Chapter 588: Chapter 503: Worsening Injuries (Part 2)
He leisurely adjusted his cuff and looked at Jeming as if he were staring at a corpse:
"Your defensive techniques are indeed strong, but how long can your defense last when your attacks are ineffective against me?"
Jeming frowned, appearing increasingly anxious.
The soul’s pain was intensifying.
Every thought, every exertion of power felt like scraping his brain with a blunt knife.
He initially didn’t want to use his Inner Grotto Heaven, as even though its manipulation was once as natural as breathing, using it excessively now would worsen his injuries.
But now, it seemed necessary.
If he kept wasting time with this seemingly abnormal group, it would be troublesome if reinforcements arrived.
"Oh well." Jeming muttered softly to himself, as if trying to convince himself.
He closed his eyes, enduring waves of increasingly intense soul-tearing pain, and sank his consciousness into his Inner Grotto Heaven.
Inside the Grotto Heaven, it felt slightly deserted because the Black Giant army was still "serving" over at the camp, with only a hundred Black Giant Priests Jeming had left earlier bustling around.
Mobilizing them required temporarily opening a stable spatial channel on the surface, to "transport" things from the Grotto Heaven to the main Plane.
This process also demanded a certain calculation power, which previously wasn’t noticeable, but Jeming’s current soul state was like a shattered porcelain barely held together with glue, ready to collapse with the slightest force.
Yet he had no choice.
"Come out." The command was issued with a thought.
On the surface, at the edge of the Ruins Armor field, fifty dark vortices simultaneously unfolded.
Space rippled like water, and the intense energy fluctuation caused the Saint Heir’s expression to change slightly.
Fifty dark figures silently stepped out of the vortices.
Standing about three meters tall, their surfaces were covered by a flowing black liquid metal layer that swallowed all light, leaving only deep shadows.
Their priest robes gently fluttered, and runes faintly circulated within the dark red gemstones atop their magic staffs.
Fifty Black Giant Priests hovered silently in front of Jeming, like a black wall.
The look of triumph on the Saint Heir’s face instantly froze, then melted into a disdainful sneer: "Ridiculous! Do you think these cannon-fodder units can defeat me?!"
Saying this, the Saint Heir unleashed a large amount of attacks once again.
However, these attacks were absorbed by a transparent force field the moment they touched the Black Giant Priests’ surface.
The protective methods were identical to those on Jeming’s body—Ruins Armor.
The greatest advantage of traditional witchcraft artifacts is that the user doesn’t need to understand the witchcraft knowledge stored within; just injecting spiritual power can activate them.
Jeming had manufactured many of these witchcraft artifacts before the battle, and naturally, he wouldn’t be stingy; each Black Giant he brought had a set.
"How... could this be?!"
The Saint Heir was genuinely shocked, and even the three witches behind him couldn’t help but open their eyes, their spiritual power threads fluctuating.
Jeming didn’t pay attention to his shock.
The intense soul pain caused his vision to blacken, nearly knocking him off his feet.
He barely maintained the clarity of his consciousness and issued the simplest command to the Black Giant Priests:
"Attack. Target, the four in front. Annihilate."
The fifty Black Giant Priests simultaneously raised their magic staffs.
The gemstone atop the staffs suddenly shone with a dazzling dark gold light, stirring a massive elemental tide in the atmosphere with its powerful force.
The next moment, the dark gold light engulfed the vision.
Fifty beams of Fire Extinction Divine Light wove into a death net, covering all spaces occupied by the Saint Heir’s squad.
The Saint Heir let out a piercing scream.
All protective witchcraft artifacts he wore on his chest, wrists, and neck simultaneously exploded with their strongest light at that moment.
[Seven-colored Rainbow Wall] fully unfolded, layers of seven-colored light screens attempting to resist.
The three witches also screamed, injecting all their spiritual power into the connection, trying to construct a joint defense.
But in the face of an absolutely overwhelming attack, it was all in vain.
The layers of Fire Extinction Divine Light were merely hindered for a moment before shattering all defenses.
Boundless fear finally filled the Saint Heir’s eyes.
In the split second the defenses bought him, he formed a peculiar Dharma Seal with his hands between life and death.
"Transfer!"
Bloodlight erupted, and the bodies of the three witches beside him suddenly stiffened, showing expressions of extreme pain and disbelief.
It seemed as though an invisible force forcibly dragged and twisted their bodies, instantly exchanging some kind of "connection" with the Saint Heir.
The next moment, the dark golden torrent engulfed their position.
The three witches didn’t even have time to scream before being completely vaporized by the concentrated Fire Extinction Divine Light, leaving not even the tiniest speck of dust, as if they never existed.
The light dissipated.
The Saint Heir knelt on one knee in the void, gasping heavily, his face as pale as paper, blood seeping from all seven orifices.
The gray robes he wore were tattered, charred in many places.
Clearly, the secret transfer technique didn’t fully work; the aftermath still injured him severely.
But he did survive.
And the cost was the complete obliteration of three "attendants."
Jeming watched him expressionlessly; for such means of sacrificing others to save oneself, there wasn’t even the slightest ripple in his heart.
In the Wizard World, he had seen even crueler things done for survival.
"Continue." Jeming’s order was succinct and cold.
The Black Giant Priests’ magic staffs lit up again.
The runes in the dark red gemstones refilled, and the Fire Extinction Divine Light re-entered its activation state.
"No!!! I’m the Saint Heir of the Chaos Secret Sect! My ancestor is..." The Saint Heir roared in despair and unwillingness, attempting to leverage his background.
But the Black Giant Priests wouldn’t listen to his nonsense.
Second round of salvo.
This time, there were no substitutes to transfer the damage.
The Saint Heir’s last life-saving bottom card—a strange crystal hidden in his heart—exploded, releasing a circle of force field that briefly distorted time, trying to deflect the beams.
But under the absolute firepower coverage of fifty Sixth Level attacks, this struggle was like a mantis trying to stop a chariot.
The time force field was roughly torn apart and penetrated.
The dark golden light completely engulfed him.
The roaring abruptly ceased.
As the light dispersed again, only a few pieces of charred ashes drifting down and some remnants of completely dimmed, cracked High Tier Witchcraft artifacts remained.
The arrogant, overbearing "Saint Heir" was annihilated, body and soul, without a trace remaining.
The battle was over.
Jeming staggered, unable to support himself anymore, and collapsed forward.
A Black Giant Priest who had been guarding his side silently stepped forward, extending his arm covered in black liquid metal, steadily supporting him.
The arm felt cool, yet carried a sense of stable strength.
"Master." The priest’s voice resonated directly in Jeming’s mind, deep and respectful.
Jeming no longer had the strength to respond.
The exhaustion and intense pain coming from the depths of his soul had reached its peak, blackening the edges of his vision, his consciousness akin to a flickering candle in the wind, on the brink of extinguishing.
Forcefully opening fifty spatial channels at once and mobilizing fifty Sixth Level units inflicted severe secondary damage on his near-collapsing soul.
Fortunately, the camp wasn’t too far now...
He struggled to lift his trembling hand and pressed a specially crafted rescue rune on his wrist, sending a distress signal and his coordinates to the Nolun Workshop’s frontline camp.
"Return... to camp..." Jeming issued the final command to the Black Giant Priests with his last ounce of clarity, "Full speed... escort..."
The fifty Black Giant Priests immediately began to move.
Four of the priests carefully lifted Jeming and protected him in the center.
The remaining forty-six priests dispersed outward, forming a tight guard formation.
All the priests’ simplified versions of the Ruins Armor fully unfolded, merging into a faint golden defensive field.
The next moment, they transformed into forty-six streaks of black light, tearing through the void, speeding towards the camp coordinates as fast as possible.