Knight Lord: Start with Daily Intelligence.

Chapter 461 The Ancient Illusion Overlapping in the Valley of Memories

"Try the one on the left!" Hilde decisively ordered. The group cautiously stepped onto the left-hand stone path. The path passed through a woodland composed of crystal-clear trees, where translucent elven figures could be seen elegantly conversing or practicing swordsmanship in the clearings, like projections from across time and space.

However, when the team reached the end, what appeared before them was not the valley entrance, but a forest clearing radiating soft light and filled with strange flowers—in the center of the clearing was the image of the sacred tree, Aetherarion! They had gone in a large circle and returned to the vicinity of the valley's core area!
"Switch to the right!" Hilde's eyes were already filled with intense vigilance.

The stone path on the right leads to a high ground. Standing on the edge of the high ground, you can look down at a huge, prosperous phantom of an ancient elven market! Countless elven phantoms move among them, and the sounds of hawking and laughter can be faintly heard. The buildings are exquisite and exude a long-lost prosperity.

But as the group descended the high ground along the stone path, attempting to pass through the market, the surrounding scenery began to blur and distort. The clamor of the market receded like the tide, and eventually, they found themselves standing on the edge of another unfamiliar woodland—and the exit of the woodland once again pointed towards the sacred tree!

"The middle one!" Su Li personally led the team onto the central stone path. This path seemed to lead out of the valley, flanked by towering pillars carved with epic tales of elven heroes. Sunlight streamed down from the tops of the pillars, creating a solemn and awe-inspiring atmosphere. They could even see what appeared to be the light at the valley entrance ahead!

However, no matter how fast they walked, the light remained at a distance. The surrounding giant pillars began to blur, and the stone path beneath their feet seemed to stretch endlessly. When Su Li stopped and looked closely, he was horrified to discover that they were walking on a circular corridor, and at the center of the corridor—still stood that radiant sacred tree!
No matter which path you choose, you'll eventually find yourself circling back to the vicinity of the sacred tree!
"Damn it! We're trapped!" Erstein slammed his fist on a nearby stone pillar, making a dull thud. The pillar felt cold and solid; it was no illusion.

“It’s not an illusion…” The mages accompanying the army were pale, their hands flashing with arcane light as they strained to sense the surroundings. “Space itself has been distorted and folded! This valley… in the ancient times when the elves ruled, was far larger than we see now! Something must have completely ‘awakened’ the spatial memories buried deep within this land, belonging to the elves’ golden age! What we are in now is a cyclical memory labyrinth shaped by ancient elven magic, superimposed on the real valley!”

Then they pointed to the lifelike elven phantoms and strange plants: "These scenes are not mere illusions, but fragments of real 'memory' from countless ages ago, imprinted on this land by powerful magic! Space here is stretched and folded, forming a closed loop! The exit... may have been buried deep within this awakened, ancient and vast space of memory, or... may not even exist in the 'now' we perceive!"

The team, which had just been elated by victory and gains, was instantly enveloped by a deeper and more eerie sense of powerlessness. They were like insects trapped in amber, surrounded by a magnificent scene frozen in time from ten thousand years ago, yet unable to find an exit to reality.

Having overcome the threat of death, yet lost in the labyrinth of time?
Everyone panicked completely. If they were trapped here and died, all the victory would have been for naught!
Hilde calmly analyzed, "I suspect this cage is probably not aimed at us. Rather, it's old Jasper's intrusion and desecration of the elven collective graveyard that activated the defense mechanism here."

Upon hearing this, Su Li nodded slightly; his judgment coincided with that of Hilder. As the chosen one of the Goddess of the Sun, his thinking became even clearer and sharper in times of crisis.

He said in a deep voice, “That’s right. The elven sages could not have been without precautions when they sealed such an important image of the sacred tree and the collective grave here. The old bones’ act of desecrating the corpses and awakening the dead, attempting to defile this sacred place, must have triggered the preset ultimate protection—dragging the entire Valley of Memory into its most glorious and most closed 'memory state,' like a self-destructing cage, forever banishing the blasphemer to the cracks of time and space.”

He looked around at the lifelike yet untouchable ancient elven landscape, and the current situation was too ironic: "It's just that the old bones have turned to ashes first, but this cage has imprisoned us 'purifiers' as well."

Orshtein then calmly spoke up, saying, "Gerson Grayrock, along with the dwarven helicopters, pursued Mhava, and our air cavalry have also vanished. If we can't get out, they should be in the same boat. Logically, if they were still in the valley, given the roar of the dwarven helicopters' engines and the size of the griffins, we should have spotted them long ago! But they... seem to have evaporated!"

“Just as I expected.” Su Li’s voice was unusually calm, yet it carried an all-knowing power. “They couldn’t ‘get out’ because they, like us, were trapped in this activated ‘memory bubble.’ Their disappearance precisely proves the closed nature and danger of this space. We were just going around in circles on the ‘surface’ of the memory maze, without ever touching the core!”

His sharp gaze swept across the elongated, folded ancient space, finally settling on Hilde: "Hilde, you just mentioned the key point. We've been wandering around for so long, circling the Sacred Tree, seeing the elven market, woodlands, training grounds, corridors... but there's one crucial place we haven't seen again, it even seems to have 'disappeared' from this awakened memory space!"

Hilde's golden eyes lit up instantly, and she blurted out, "The collective graveyard of the elves!"

“That’s right!” Su Li said decisively. “That’s the source of the blasphemy, the core that triggered this spatial defense! It can’t really disappear; it must have been ‘hidden’ or ‘isolated’ in a deeper place by this distorted space! Or rather, it is the true ‘anchor’ and ‘key’ to this memory labyrinth! The more we try to go outward, the more we are misled by the appearance of memories, and the further we get from the core!”

"Turn around!" Su Li's command was clear and firm. "Target—find the Mass Grave! It must still be in its original location, or... it has been moved by spatial distortion to a specific memory node! All mages, concentrate and sense any anomalies in spatial fluctuations! Seranville, pay attention to the resonance between your bloodline and the elven ruins! Eliria, use your life force to sense any discordant, desolate areas!"

The team immediately changed direction, no longer fixated on finding the exit, but instead began to explore in reverse along the path they had come from, trying to find the "hidden" grave.

This time, their mindset and goals were completely different. No longer anxious about the exit, they focused on finding the "flaws" in the space. They passed through the Crystal Woodland, the Market Highlands, and the Heroes' Corridor... The scenery remained the same, but upon closer observation, subtle differences could be found—the light seemed more hazy, the movements of the elven phantoms occasionally flickered as if stuck, and the magical winds permeating the air became more restless.

As they once again traversed a strange jungle composed of enormous, star-like ferns, the scene before them suddenly changed dramatically!
No longer a tranquil forest clearing or a bustling market, but... a war-torn post-apocalyptic battlefield!

Space seemed to be torn apart! Countless high elf warriors, clad in magnificent silver armor and wielding weapons that shimmered with magical light, were locked in fierce combat with a vast number of dwarf warriors, clad in heavy runic armor and wielding enormous battle axes and warhammers!

The sky was stained dark red by the burning magical flames and the smoke from the dwarven cannons! A colossal war dragon, wielded by elven mages, spewed destructive dragon breath, only to be pierced by massive ballistae forged by dwarven runesmiths! The elves' elegant swordsmanship proved inadequate against the dwarves' ferocious strength and formidable defenses, while the dwarves' advance was frequently thwarted by the elves' precise and deadly rain of magical arrows and devastating arcane storms!

Blood stained the ancient land, tattered flags burned in the wind, and the deafening shouts of battle, the clash of weapons, the explosions of magic, and the howls of giant beasts intertwined to form an incomparably tragic and realistic war scene!

It is the Battle of Longbeard!
"Wait!" Hilde's voice pierced through the commotion, carrying a hint of disbelief and shock. Her eyes were fixed on the familiar scenes on the battlefield: "I recognize this place! This isn't the real battlefield of the Longbeard War! This is 'Tears of the Rock People'! The stone plaza carved by the Rock People, recording the dreams and memories of the Elves! That damned, memory-distorting stone slab!"

Her finger pointed behind the battlefield, through the billowing smoke and the phantoms of carnage: "The mass grave! It's right behind that square! Blocked by these illusions!"

This meant their only way out—the hidden grave anchor point—lies at the edge of this bloody battlefield. There was no way around it.

"Then let's break through!" Su Li's voice was resolute and unwavering. The sunlight surged around him, dispelling a trace of the chill brought by the illusions. "Target clear! Charge through this battlefield! Seranville, Ariria, clear the way! Orstein, Durmst, cover the flanks! Ignore these illusions, charge!"

The order was given, and the squad, like an arrow released from a bow, plunged into the boiling battlefield. Instantly, something unexpected happened!

The elven warrior phantoms, who had previously seemed engrossed in their battle, suddenly turned their cold, hostile gazes toward the approaching group! They were no longer merely background figures, but deadly guardians! Arrows gleaming with arcane light tore through the air, striking the intruders with pinpoint accuracy; elven warrior phantoms wielding runic longswords moved with ghostly speed, charging forward with ancient combat techniques!

"Defend!" The knights' shields hummed and glowed, barely managing to withstand the first wave of dense arrows. Thranville's spear shot out like a silver snake, deflecting an approaching elven warrior phantom, but the phantom dissipated only to reassemble nearby. Eliria's life winds transformed into thorny vines, binding the charging enemies and slowing their progress. Orstein's warhammer, with a dull whistling sound, smashed half the body of a shield-wielding elven phantom; the fragments vanished like dust, but more enemies surged forward.

The battle instantly intensified. These memory guardians, imprinted in space, possessed power far exceeding that of the previous phantoms. They coordinated perfectly, their attacks cunning and deadly, each clash of weapons unleashing real sparks and energy shockwaves. The squad was like being mired in quagmire, each step forward requiring immense effort, with flashes of swords and magical light flickering and exploding wildly around them.

"Damn it! They're endless!" a warrior gasped, parrying a longsword. Amidst the chaotic battle, Hilder's sharp gaze swept across a corner of the dwarven ranks, then suddenly froze. There, something jarringly out of place stood. Several crudely designed dwarven helicopters, covered in heavy armor, were parked haphazardly, their rotors drooping listlessly.

One of the machines was still belching black smoke from its engine, its fuselage covered in marks from magical burns and sword cuts. Several dwarven technicians were sweating profusely as they worked on it, while others, clinging to the machine, desperately fought off the ever-surging elven phantoms with muskets and grenades.

The dwarf helicopter is a machine invented by dwarves during the Age of Vengeance, and it is absolutely impossible for it to appear in the War of the Longbeard!

Moreover, Hilde clearly remembered that when she came to this square before, there were definitely no dwarf helicopters in the stone carvings on this square.

Even more bizarrely, there was a group of human griffin riders and horse eagle riders standing beside them!
It's Gerson Grayrock and his pursuit team! They were indeed trapped here, and were locked in a fierce battle!
"Look over there!" Hilde roared, pointing to the helicopter's location. "Gerson and the others! They're behind the dwarven lines!"

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound. They immediately saw this abrupt scene: the helicopters, now in a sorry state with their engines stalled, stood out starkly against the backdrop of the ancient dwarven warriors. Had it not been for Hilder's calm assessment of the battlefield, they would have almost missed their comrades trapped deep in enemy territory.

"Damn it! These long-eared illusions are more troublesome than living people!" Gerson Grayrock's signature furious roar faintly echoed as he swung his runehammer, smashing an elven warrior illusion that lunged at him to pieces, but more illusions immediately filled the gap. "The engine's stalled! We're stuck in this godforsaken place!"

Seemingly to confirm Gerson's curses, a nearby dwarf warrior illusion (though only a memory imprint) cleaved through an elven phantom and roared deafeningly towards the densely packed elves: "Stubborn long-eared devils! Taste the wrath of the dwarves!"

The roar seemed to have triggered some kind of switch.

Above the battlefield, an elven mage phantom controlling a small arcane construct responded in clear, cold Elven with an ancient accent, its voice piercing through the clamor: "You despicable ironclads! Your greed will bury you!"

"Long-eared scum!" roared another dwarf illusion.

"You rat that crawled out of the ground!" the elven archer phantom sneered as he shot an arrow.

Ancient, venomous curses, mingled with the sounds of real clashing weapons and explosions, echoed across this awakened, ancient battlefield. Dwarves hurled insults like "long ears," "pointed-eared bastards," and "sons of magic bitches"; elves retorted with "stone brats," "burrowing moles," and "uncultured lump of iron."

"Charge! Rendezvous with Gerson! They can't hold on much longer!" Su Li cleaved a stray arcane arrow with his spear, the spear tip colliding with the arrow and exploding in blinding sparks, the shock numbing his arm. The power of his Crimson Dragon bloodline surged within him, his fiery blood energy erupting with a deafening roar, creating a scorching wave of air that temporarily repelled several illusory elven warriors charging fearlessly ahead, scorching them and scattering dust and light. "The grave is just behind us!" he roared.

However, the overwhelming power of the illusions far exceeded expectations! The elven guards seemed endless in number, and they didn't charge haphazardly, but rather moved like cold war machines, their movements perfectly coordinated. Waves of arrows rained down, cunningly striking through gaps in the shields and blind spots in the defenses; elven swordsman phantoms wielding dual swords moved like ghosts, their sword flashes swift and ruthless, targeting the lower body and joints; behind them, elven mage phantoms continuously channeled arcane energy, deadly rays and area-of-effect energy explosions constantly erupting along the squad's path!

"Ugh!" Su Li groaned as a dark blue arcane ray grazed the outside of his left arm, instantly melting through the vibranium armplate and leaving charred marks. His skin burned, and a chilling, corrosive sensation spread upwards along his arm. He swung his spear backhand, piercing an approaching elven swordsman, but before the phantom dissipated, its cold gaze remained fixed on him.

The dozen or so Chosen of the Sun in the group were under immense pressure. They formed a tight circle, their shields, gleaming with the holy light of the sun, constantly bearing down on the impacts with dull thuds. Each block drained their strength and willpower. Bradley's shield was struck in the same spot by three consecutive arcane arrows, instantly dimming the holy light shield. The fourth arrow pierced the edge of the shield and embedded itself firmly in his shoulder armor, instantly staining the golden armor plates crimson with blood.

"Hold on! Don't scatter!" Orstein roared, his warhammer swung like the wind, smashing one elven guard after another that rushed at him. But a deep, bone-revealing sword wound appeared on his broad back, left by an elven assassin phantom that suddenly appeared from the shadows on his flank. Blood soaked through his battle robes.

Thranville's spear danced in a blur of silver light, precisely striking down enemies attempting to breach the defenses, but her breathing quickened, and fine beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. Arielia's life force struggled to maintain the restraints of the thorny vines, slowing the relentless onslaught and trying to heal her companions' wounds, but the arcane corrosive power accompanying the elven phantom attacks greatly weakened the effects of nature magic, making the wounds heal slowly and painfully.

“Too many! They…they are wearing us down to death!” A priest named Sharya was pale-faced. His shield had just blocked a devastating energy explosion, and his divine power was almost depleted. A trickle of blood escaped from the corner of his mouth.

Every step forward was accompanied by blood and roars. The advance of the army was halted, as if wading through viscous blood. The elven phantoms were ruthless and efficient; every attack carried the deep-seated hatred of the annihilation war from countless ages ago, with a clear objective—to tear apart any intruders!
"Gerson! Charge this way!" Hilde shouted hoarsely toward the dwarven helicopter, firing precise arrows at the elven archer phantoms attempting to attack the mage. Her golden eyes, sharp as an eagle's, scanned the chaotic battlefield, searching for any exploitable gaps or weaknesses in the dwarven lines.

Gerson Grayrock heard the shouts, a fierce determination flashing across his soot- and sweat-covered face. "You heard that?! Charge! Rejoin those humans! Get out of this damned place!" He swung his runehammer, smashing aside two elven phantoms blocking his path, and roared at the dwarven musketeers and the remaining air cavalry (the griffon and horse-eagle riders were equally wounded, their mounts exhausted) beside him: "Clear the way! Grenades! Fire! Blast a path through me!"

The dwarves erupted in a deafening battle roar. Several smoking black powder grenades were hurled with all their might into the area densely packed with elven phantoms.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The explosion and shockwave briefly cleared an area, filling the air with smoke and dust. Dwarven muskets fired in unison, lead bullets whistling as they tore through phantoms. Human gryphon riders swooped down, their sharp lances piercing the arcane shields of elven mages, while horse-tailed vultures tore at enemies on the ground with their claws and fangs.

Taking advantage of the brief chaos and suppressed fire, Su Li's squad and Gerson's remaining dwarves/humans unleashed their last strength and launched a desperate charge toward each other, toward the edge of the smoke-filled stone square at the rear of the battlefield—the direction where the mass grave was hidden!

Just as the squad and Gerson's remnants were struggling to close the distance and were about to reunite, an indescribable, terrifying pressure that froze even the soul slammed down like an invisible giant hammer in the center of the entire battlefield!
At the edge of the battlefield, on the massive stone pedestal adorned with ancient elven hero reliefs, space violently distorted and boiled! The air wailed, and light refracted intensely under the intense heat as a figure stepped out from the blazing white halo.

He—or rather, it—was not an illusion. Its presence was like a tangible mountain, instantly overshadowing all the noise and bloodshed on the battlefield!
A legendary-level, or even close to, a Saint-level Phoenix Guardian!

The armor he wore was not made of ordinary metal, but runic mithril that flowed with a molten red glow. Its surface was engraved with ancient, unrecognizable elven divine script, radiating a heat as intense as the core of a blazing sun and an inviolable, sacred majesty.

The helmet was shaped like a phoenix with its neck outstretched and a long cry, with two cold, emotionless golden flames burning in its eye sockets. In his hand he held an astonishingly long Zanpakuto (Soul-Slaying Halberd), the blade of which was not solid metal, but rather composed of highly condensed, howling phoenix flames. Its mere presence caused the surrounding air to emit a continuous, teeth-grinding shriek!

There was no roar, no declaration. He simply cast his cold eyes, burning with an eternal flame, at the two intruder teams that were fighting fiercely on the battlefield and trying to reunite.

(End of this chapter)