Deprived of the scarlet demonic light's corruption, the grotesque Skeleton monsters, born from the power of the Abyss, still had their soul flames flickering with eerie green necromantic light in their eyes, but they clearly lost their berserk unified will and the fanatical, fearless devotion to sacrifice.
Chaos intensified!
They no longer charged towards the bulwark, but instead spun in place, collided, and emitted unintelligible screeches.
Immediately after, as if receiving some instinctive signal to retreat, or perhaps driven by a deep fear emanating from the core area behind them, these monsters began to turn around!
The incredibly fast hunting Skeleton took the lead in turning, fleeing on all fours like unbridled wild dogs in the direction the black mist was receding; the massive aggregated monster emitted low, chaotic grinding sounds, clumsily moving its body composed of countless tiny skulls; even the seemingly clumsy arthropod Skeleton waved its bone spikes, quickly retreating into the increasingly sparse gray mist.
The previously noisy and chaotic front-line battlefield, filled with death roars and the clang of weapons, fell into an eerie stillness in an extremely short time.
Only abandoned Skeleton remains, charred remnants of vines, and the fully alert, yet momentarily bewildered, defenders on the bulwark were left behind.
The hazy, normal mist of Long City's undead disaster once again permeated the air, replacing the suffocating abyssal blackness.
Shen Mu stood on the watchtower, his cold gaze, beneath the visor of his mithril helmet, fixed intently on the rapidly calming, gloomy core to the west.
He could clearly perceive that the giant eye that had opened in the darkness had not disappeared, but had completely hidden its strong presence of abyssal essence, like a primeval beast, satisfied and dormant after a full meal, sharpening its hunting patience to be purer and more lethal.
The soldiers watched the tide of monsters quickly receding below, their taut nerves not relaxing; instead, their hearts were filled with doubts.
"My Lord? They..." The Knight Captain stepped forward, his voice heavy.
This eerie retreat was more chilling than the frenzied attack just now.
"What has retreated is the filth of the demons; what remains is... pure death nourishment." Shen Mu's voice was like clashing icicles; he raised his hand, pointing into the depths of the gray mist: "The Abyss has temporarily withdrawn its claws, but the undead power of this land has not dissipated; instead..."
His words paused slightly, and Captain Legolas's expression also changed drastically, picking up on Shen Mu's perception:
...Instead, it has been compressed and purified by that core will! The gray mist is 'thicker,' and the death is 'purer'! That thing... it is preparing for the next engulfment!"
All the officers' hearts sank suddenly.
They knew that the creation of the Abyss had been born.
It no longer needed inefficient sacrifices; it chose to temporarily retreat to bring all of Long City's last, purest death power under its control, like a predator coiled at the center of a spider web, waiting for the next... more lethal hunt.
Outside the bulwark, a deathly silence permeated by gray mist returned.
However, this silence was heavier than the previous churning black mist, containing an infinite murderous intent that could freeze the soul.
Shen Mu stood on the newly constructed watch platform of the Rooted Bulwark, his cold iron armor reflecting the sparse gray mist.
The brief dormancy did not bring a moment of relaxation; instead, it was like an invisible bone spike piercing his heart.
As long as that terrifying presence lurking in the city's core was not eliminated, the Elf Forest would never be at peace.
He overlooked the surroundings of the bulwark, his cold commands like hammer blows on an anvil: "Reinforce! Dig! Let it take root, deeply embedded here!"
The command quickly transformed into a storm of action.
The Elf Forest, this bridgehead, began a deeper, more thorough transformation under Shen Mu's will.
The Rodok Sergeant directed the conscripted laborers and engineers to dig deep trenches around the Rooted Bulwark, their bottoms filled with sharpened, oil-soaked hardwood stakes.
The excavated soil was used to fill the gaps in the damaged thorn vine network, and then mixed again with spirit soil containing natural vitality; new thorn seeds were personally sown by the Wood Elves, catalyzed by Faith Power, visibly sprouting and growing branches.
Inside the bulwark, not only were the warehouses and barracks reinforced.
More massive and deeply underground forest fortress ballista bases, constructed from huge logs and sturdy rocks, were built.
Their main bodies were thicker, the life channels connecting to the Rooted Bulwark were deeper, and the energy they drew was more immense.
The root spears loaded at the top were no longer crossbow bolts, but resembled small siege rams, with new demon-breaking and holy light guiding runes etched beneath the burning Elven runes on their surface—this was a "meeting gift" prepared for that deeply hidden existence.
Shen Mu even used a massive amount of Faith Power to construct several small but more energy-condensed altar nodes around the ancient trees in the bulwark's core.
These nodes, like energy pump stations, continuously drew Faith Power day and night, transmitting it through the root network to every inch of the bulwark's "skin," raising its defense and resistance to the purification of evil to new heights.
The entire Elf Forest fortress was transforming from a temporary stronghold into an unyielding, steel forest bulwark deeply embedded in the deadlands of Long City, becoming a wedge firmly driven into the edge of this deathly land, preparing to welcome the core existence's counterattack.
After completing the initial inspection, Shen Mu's gaze once again turned beyond the bulwark. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
The gray mist still permeated, but this mist... was too thin.
It was far less heavy and oppressive than the "shroud-like" feeling during the previous siege, and even less concentrated than when the undead disaster first began.
It was thin like a tattered veil, as if its essence had been violently torn and drained by some force. Sunlight managed to penetrate with difficulty, staining the ruins with a sickly pallor.
"This mist... is excessively weak." Shen Mu's voice held little doubt, more like he was confirming a cold fact.
Captain Legolas, the Wood Elf Captain who had been standing by, frowned tightly, his emerald eyes also filled with confusion and vigilance: "My Lord, this is unusual. The forest also feels weak. Those gray mists... seem to be drying up, or rather, being heavily... 'devoured' by something deeper. Their dissipation has not brought life; instead, it has made the death aura perceived by the forest even more... condensed and dangerous."
Shen Mu's fingers tapped lightly on his cold armor, producing a faint metallic tremor.
"Behind withering mist, there often hides something worse. Send them out, more eyes and ears. Tell your rangers to carefully infiltrate deeper into the gray mist, closer to the core's edge than before. Do not alarm anything, just observe. Find out what kind of demons are hidden behind this abnormal weakness."
"Understood, My Lord!" Legolas bowed with his hand on his chest and quickly turned to leave.
Soon, small teams of elite, most stealthy Wood Elf Twilight Rangers and Forest Rangers, like streams entering the sea, silently merged into the thin gray mist.
Time passed amidst intense construction and high alert, with sunrises and sunsets, and two weeks had passed in the blink of an eye.
The bulwark continued to be reinforced, the trenches deepened, the thorns grew into ferocious barbed bulwarks, and the thick barrels of the new forest fortress ballistas gleamed with cold, hard light in the sunlight.
Soldiers took turns on duty and training, mending their armor and sharpening their blades. Although their eyes still held wariness of the unknown, their taut nerves had relaxed slightly during the long period of relative calm.
And the world outside the bulwark seemed to confirm Shen Mu's speculation—and also seemed to confirm the caution or apprehension of that abyssal creation.
The core area, which once pulsed like a heart and could even condense phantoms to launch mental attacks, fell into absolute silence.
The viscous, inky black mist, with the stench of abyssal sulfur, like a venomous snake that had completely retreated, remained firmly entrenched in the city's central area, never surging even an inch towards the Elf Forest.
It was as if the huge, grotesque gap in the bulwark, and the forest of new ballistas behind it, along with Shen Mu's cold will, formed an invisible warning line.
Outside, only the regular gray mist permeated.
The scattered undead wandering within it, like worker bees without a queen, were few in number and moved slowly.
Most were rotting ghouls and low-level Skeleton Soldiers; occasionally, one or two black bone Skeletons wandered aimlessly, but they were quickly and easily eliminated by the bulwark's patrol or hidden Wood Elf sentries.
This area, which had been repeatedly cleared, presented a strange, suppressed desolation.
It was as if the abyssal entity, while accumulating power, was too lazy to even bother with outer defenses.
However, it was this excessive calm that weighed like a heavy stone on the hearts of Shen Mu and all the generals.
The calm before the storm is often the most suffocating.
What broke this heavy silence was not the anticipated black mist army, but the Elven vanguard that had been sent out.
One evening, several dust-covered Wood Elf scouts, still bearing the lingering scent of the gray mist, were urgently brought before Shen Mu.
The leading Elf Captain, Caleborn, an old hunter who had experienced many bloody battles, now had an expression of incredible shock on his face.
"My Lord! There's a major discovery!" Caleborn's voice held a hint of hurried breath and incomprehensible meaning: "We ventured close to the edge of the core area, although we didn't go deep into the black mist... but we found... traces of battle! Large-scale battle!"
At these words, the atmosphere in the command room instantly froze. Everyone held their breath, their gaze focused on the Elf Captain.
"Continue." Shen Mu's voice was still cold, but a sharp glint flashed in his iron-gray eyes.
"It's... it's black mist and gray mist!" Caleborn took a deep breath, as if trying to calm the shocking scene: "Right on the outskirts of the area completely swallowed by the black mist! We witnessed with our own eyes the Skeleton monsters corrupted by the Abyss fiercely battling the uncorrupted Black Iron Skeleton Guards! The aura of the Abyss and the pure power of death were colliding and annihilating each other! Both sides fought fearlessly, suffering heavy casualties! That sight... it was like... it was like..."
He paused here, seemingly unable to find suitable words to describe this bizarre slaughter occurring within the undead stronghold.
The command room was dead silent, with only the heavy breathing of those present.
Doubt, like cold vines, instantly entwined everyone's hearts.
The minions driven by the abyssal creation, and Long City's native core undead forces... were actually fighting among themselves?!
Shen Mu slowly turned, once again looking towards the dark silhouette of the western core area, cut off by the black mist.
A faint, extremely cold curve seemed to appear at the corners of his cold lips.
The bulwark seemed safe.
Shen Mu stood at the highest point, looking down at Caleborn and the other Wood Elf scouts' blood-stained leather armor and the lingering shock on their faces.
The Elf Captain's clear description of the scene at the core's edge was like a sharply angled piece of ice, dropped into Shen Mu's already clouded mind.
"Infighting... Abyssal corruption and native undead..." Shen Mu murmured, repeating Caleborn's description, his iron-gray eyes beneath the visored helmet sharp as knives, not looking at the elves, but piercing through the thin mist, fixedly locked on that silent black domain to the west.
His previous doubts instantly found their anchor.
That black mist... that abnormal sense of "withering"... that silence of the lurking core...
This was by no means a harmonious coexistence of abyssal power and undead power, nor was it a simple fusion.
The information Caleborn brought back—the brutal battle between the monsters created by the Abyss and the Black Iron Skeletons of pure death power—revealed a deeper, more cruel truth.
"Legolas." Shen Mu's voice remained cold, but carried a penetrating quality that came from understanding the essence: "What you brought back... isn't just the aura of battlefield remnants, is it?" He subtly raised his hand, gesturing for the Elf Captain to reveal something deeper.
Caleborn unhesitatingly took out a palm-sized container from his leather pouch, woven from special vines and ancient tree leaves, its inner wall condensed with grayish-black frost crystals.
He carefully opened it, and a mixed aura, far more intense and contradictory than the battlefield remnants, escaped.
A bone-chilling undead cold, as if to freeze the soul.
A suffocating abyssal stench, with the sweet-sour smell of sulfur and rotting flesh, rushed straight to the brain, seeking to awaken the most primitive brutality and desire for destruction deep within the heart.
These two auras did not blend seamlessly; instead, they were like two venomous snakes coiling and biting each other, erupting with heart-stopping energy turbulence at a microscopic level, the faint sizzling sound as if even space itself was groaning.
Shen Mu closed his eyes, his immense mental power, like the most precise probe, extended into the container.
This time, the perception was no longer blurry.
He clearly "saw" it.
That seemingly uniform black mist was not, in essence, a monolithic creation. It was more like a dirty rag soaked in different kinds of foul blood.
The most active, most greedy, and constantly devouring the surrounding gray mist energy was precisely a kind of pure, heart-stopping abyssal demonic energy he had felt during the phantom explosion.
It was filled with the will of chaos, plunder, and destruction, its power level far exceeding any abyssal presence projection he had encountered before, almost approaching the aura of some kind of... primordial origin.
And intertwined with it, forcibly swept along, was the original power of death rules of this land of Long City—cold, calm, and with the unique orderly characteristics of the undead. (End of Chapter)
