Farming in a Parallel World and Becoming a God
Chapter 227 - 188: Black on Black_1

Chapter 227: Chapter 188: Black on Black_1

"This is no ordinary Monster Tribe. It’s a deliberate ambush, probably the Santarin Association setting this up. Open the portal and let’s retreat!" Despite having no definitive evidence, Clive had an instinctive feeling that this matter was inextricably linked with the Santarin Association.

"Give up just like that?" Darcy looked at the coachmen and guards enduring desperately, his eyes filled with reluctance. Many of them were old-timers who had followed him for years.

He led them through the south and smashed through the north, leaving their footprints across most of the Moon Sea and the Sea of Fallen Stars region, yet today they were to perish in a small corner of the Rocklands.

"We must get the message back to Far Mountain, otherwise the City Lord and the Great Commander will be even more passive in dealing with the Santarin Association’s accountability. No matter what, we can’t let the Santarin Association’s schemes succeed." Clive explained urgently, "If we don’t go now, we won’t be able to get away later."

"Give me half a minute." Darcy pulled out a magic scroll from his chest, which radiated intense magic fluctuations and scorching heat.

Flamestorm!

Seventh-level magic!

Clive saw the true nature of the magic scroll and his face instantly turned pale, "You’re insane. This is way beyond your spellcasting level. If you’re not very careful, you’ll cause a magic backlash, and then we all die."

Clive was very aware of the value of this magic scroll; it was acquired by Darcy through a secret trade with a Red Robe Mage from Ser, at a cost of five thousand gold coins—that was just the tangible part. There were also intangible trade terms worth even more than the coins.

Darcy had always treated it like a treasure, carrying it with him.

But compared with their lives, the value of a Flamestorm magic scroll seemed less important now.

Darcy bared his teeth in a smile, with a strong scent of blood, "Whoever wants to plot against us must pay the price. Don’t worry, I’ve had this magic scroll for a while now. I’ve fully grasped its contents and have poured enough of my own magic power into it. I’m not insane enough to gamble with my life."

After explaining, Darcy focused his entire being, concentrating all his mental energy on the scroll in his hand.

True, he had poured enough magic power into it, at the expense of delaying the advancement of his Professional Level, but it was quite a stretch beyond his current level.

He was only at the eleventh Mage level, whereas normally, casting Flamestorm required at least fourteen.

He had to concentrate fully.

A massive amount of Flame Elements converged toward his location like a frenzy.

The wyverns in the sky seemed to sense something and, with a roar, dived towards him.

The value of this magic scroll became apparent as Darcy focused his mental energy on it. Bit by bit, it began to burn. When it was completely consumed, the magic power was also ready.

Streams of fireballs launched in accordance to Darcy’s will, a total of twenty-two.

When the fireballs reached their destination, they exploded with a boom, sweeping away all life within a four or five-meter radius like a storm.

Coachmen, guards, and the Monster Tribe they were fighting—all were swallowed by the raging Flame Elements without a chance to struggle, dying on the spot.

Indeed, each fireball could be seen as a Fireball Technique with half the usual blast radius.

There were a total of twenty-two such reduced Fireball Techniques.

The Monster Tribe’s main attacking direction received Darcy’s special attention, with ten of them falling right there.

With hardly any space to evade.

Even the incredibly dexterous Martial Monks would find it impossible to run fifty meters within a few seconds.

By the time the Flamestorm faded, only five or six armed cavalry, their faces charred black, remained standing unsteadily. The rest were reduced to charred corpses.

The remaining twelve fireballs mainly targeted the wagons.

A large number of wagons caught fire.

Darcy’s aim was simple; even in defeat, he couldn’t let these goods fall intact into the hands of the monsters.

Because the cargo mainly consisted of weapons and armor. If it landed in their hands, it would arm an Elite force, becoming an even greater scourge to the area.

"Seeking death!" The wyvern roared in anger and dove down, its neck held high, obviously preparing its next Strong Acid Breath.

Darcy gestured a throat-slitting motion towards it, and with Clive and a few Elite armed cavalry planned to activate the Teleportation Spell to return directly to Far Mountain City.

"Be careful." Clive let out a shout of alarm.

Darcy felt as if his back had taken a punch.

More accurately, countless punches.

Each was heavy and powerful, each brimming with a strange strength that penetrated his body and reached straight into his heart.

With each punch, his heart lurched heavily. With each lurch, it seemed to jump from his chest into his throat, as if it wanted to leap out through his mouth.

Darcy felt his heart could not take the burden and shattered fiercely.

Gale Combo!

The advanced technique of a Transcendent Monk.

Heartbreaker Fist.

A high-level skill exclusive to the Martial Monks who are followers of the God of Tyranny, Bane.

In the moment he was leaving his body, Darcy recognized the assailant.

Sister Stefanie of the Broken Heart.

All of this had indeed been the work of those bastards from the Santarin Association.

At the same time, Darcy faintly heard the sound of a war horn, the howling of wolves echoing in waves from afar. He thought he saw an onslaught of Hobgoblin Wolf Cavalry pouring forth, and then his consciousness plunged into complete darkness.

"I’ll kill you!" Clive was nearly exploding with rage.

Throughout the attack, he had been entirely reactive.

Now he couldn’t even protect the Spellcaster, losing even the chance to return to the city and report.

Stefanie gave Clive but a glance, her form starting to blur, merging into the air, and vanishing without a trace.

Without hesitation, Clive pulled a small steel flask from his Combat Belt and emptied the potion within into his eyes.

A wave of intense burning pain surged from his eyes, causing him to let out an involuntary scream of agony, as if he was on the brink of going blind.

This feeling lasted only for a few seconds, and when he opened his eyes again, they were blood-red as if congested.

Yet the world he saw through them had changed.

Everything around him was shrouded in fog.

It was as if a world composed entirely of dense fog lay just behind everyone.

The Ether Realm.

Clive, having applied the potion, could now look directly into the Ether.

A half-transparent figure was stealthily moving in the Ether Mist, about to circle behind him.

That damned woman was indeed using her ability to become ethereal, lurking to assassinate Darcy from behind.

Pretending not to notice Sister Stefanie of the Broken Heart, Clive poured the rest of the potion from the small steel bottle onto his knight’s sword.

At this time, Stephanie had already circled to Clive’s back.

Using the same old trick.

The high-level Gale Combo.

Heartbreaker Fist.

No one of a lower life profession below the Transcendent could withstand his combination of punches.

Even for a higher life profession above the Transcendent, taking the full brunt would cost them half their life, and the intense pain of a shattered heart would severely impact their combat ability.

This type of attack, infused with true energy, ignored armor, be it scale armor or plate armor.

Clive suddenly twisted his body, ignoring the opponent’s rapid punches, and swung his knight’s sword down heavily.

Clive took three punches as the price, but his knight’s sword chopped down on Stephanie’s arm as desired.

Still in a semi-ether state, the body of Sister Stefanie of the Broken Heart was like papier-mâché, and the knight’s sword cut right through it.

However, Stephanie let out a piercing scream and fully materialized from the Ether; her right arm had been cleaved off at the root, and was nowhere to be seen.

Oddly, not a single drop of blood showed at the clean, smooth cut, as if it wasn’t just severed, but as if Stephanie had been born without a right arm.

The potion that Clive had just applied to his knight’s sword gave it the ability to directly attack ethereal creatures and sever the Ether.

Sister Stefanie of the Broken Heart finally lost her expressionless facade, her eyes filled with resentment as she viciously glared at Clive before turning to flee, merging back into the Ether as she ran.

She surely possessed magic items that aided her travels through the Ether.

A martial monk’s hands are their weapons, and now that one of her weapons was severed, her combat effectiveness had been greatly reduced. Coupled with the opponent’s ability to see through the Ether and attack it directly, continuing the fight here would be disadvantageous for her.

"Where do you think you’re going!" Clive wasn’t about the let her escape, he spurred his horse into a furious chase, determined to keep her there and avenge Darcy.

Although he did not recognize Stephanie’s identity, her capabilities were certainly indicative of a core elite of this monstrous army.

The two of them, one chasing the other, soon disappeared into the wilderness, leaving their own forces behind.

...

Before dying, Darcy had neither heard nor seen wrong.

His Flamestorm had just finished wreaking havoc.

Another force revealed its hideous fangs, eager to join the battlefield.

Leading them was a man clad in sealed knight’s armor, wielding a Keen Edge Longspear, and mounted on a ferocious, massive Zuo Lang wolf.

Beside him rode a Hobgoblin Warlord atop a Ferocious Wolf. In terms of size, this Ferocious Wolf was far larger than the Zuo Lang, yet it looked at the Zuo Lang with undeniable trepidation, falling half a step behind as though yielding to a wolf king—because this was no ordinary Zuo Lang, but a transformed Dog Demon.

Above their heads hovered a massive Red Copper Dragon, endlessly circling.

Only Gaven’s clan possessed both the Red Copper Dragon and Hobgoblin Wolf Cavalry in the Rocklands, with no other clans to speak of.

Their appearance here was no coincidence, nor was it accidental, but rather a premeditated plot.

Shanoba’s monstrous alliance, supported by the Santarin Association, was always under his surveillance.

When they mobilized in large numbers, even if not attacking Dragon Oak Territory, Gaven wouldn’t stand idly by.

They had been waiting in ambush just five kilometers away since the beginning of the war.

If Shanoba’s targets had been a benevolent merchant caravan, they would have already charged out to rescue them.

When Gaven realized it was the Crimson Feather’s caravan, he decided to wait until Shanoba took her prize before initiating a backstab.

This caravan had a notorious reputation, second only to the Santarin Association, and it was inevitable that they would clash in the Kosoman Area; weakening them now was advantageous for the future.

At that moment, Gaven had no knowledge that the Crimson Feather caravan contained goods entrusted by the Santarin Association.

Even if he did know, it wouldn’t surprise him.

Wasn’t this precisely the kind of scheme the Santarin Association was best at? They would hijack their own entrusted goods and fully exploit their dominant position to claim compensation from the transporter. Not only would they save on transportation fees, but they would also profit from the indemnity—a perfect gain at every turn, with all advantages falling into their hands.

With one command from Gaven, the Hobgoblin Wolf Cavalry surged out like a tide from behind him.

Darcy’s retaliatory Flamestorm had cleared the path for the Hobgoblin Wolf Cavalry.

A single charge was all it took to break through the most concentrated area of the monstrous army, beheading their foes with abandon.

As for Shanoba, the greatest military threat, the wyvern hovered uncertainly in the air, debating whether to engage in the attack.

Upon seeing Aivensa for the first time, she understood the origin of this army.