You promised to wreak havoc on the dungeon, but instead you've got Dragon Slime!

She didn't speak, she just thrust, stab, flick, and press, each move decisive.

The guards followed closely behind, their shoes making a dull thud as they pounded on the slippery mud, their gun barrels drawing thick lines in the darkness.

Further out from the tower, Bakus's men had erected a high platform, with a rune array hidden under a black cloth.

They pressed stacks of Soul-Splitting Talismans into the groove, like adding coal to a furnace.

The talisman paper was burned black, and black smoke rose straight up.

The priest manipulating the formation had trembling fingers, and as he muttered incantations, his upper teeth struck his lower teeth, making a soft, cracking sound.

The pressure from the Soul Splitting Talisman increased another level, and a group of mercenaries lost control of their bladders and collapsed to the ground, rolling in the mud and convulsing.

Blood was still seeping from Ron's mouth, but he didn't wipe it away, letting it drip down his chin into the gaps of the control panel.

He amplified the "breathing" of the grotto by two times, drawing all the strange rhythms into himself.

He felt as if he were wading into a huge black river, the bottom of which was full of cold, sticky stuff that clung to his legs, but he didn't stop.

The talisman felt hot on his chest, like iron being forged in fire.

"Again," he mentally pushed those two words out.

The cave responded. The stone-winged beasts swooped down in formation, their feathers slicing through the air with a series of crisp, explosive sounds.

They grab the enemy's collar, lift it up, and then throw it into the slime pile.

The sand snake coiled around the heavy shield, its body tightening around and around, causing the armor plates to creak and groan.

The slime raised layers of mucus, like the undulating surface of water, and slowly swallowed the fallen person, leaving only a boot still shaking outside.

The echoes from the Soul Splitting Talisman were piled up into a wall, which then pressed back onto the high platform.

The priest covered his ears, knelt heavily, and slammed his forehead against the edge of the altar with a thud.

The black cloth roof bulged and collapsed from the shock, and the guards around it gripped the edge of the platform, their bodies stiff.

They hadn't expected this thing to backfire; their previous arrogance vanished, replaced by panic.

In the camp, Vanessa leaned out from behind a carriage, holding a small wooden amulet in her hand.

She was supposed to stay in the safe zone, but was instead transferred here to witness what she called "her father's methods."

She watched as the crowd, like an anthill that had been overturned, trampled and killed each other; she watched as a mercenary used the back of his knife to wake his unconscious comrade, only to plunge it back into his stomach the next instant.

She gripped the amulet tightly, her knuckles turning white.

The foreman by the fire yelled at her, telling her to go back to her tent and not get in the way.

She didn't move, staring at the black cloth roof over the platform as if she were looking at a pot about to overflow.

The wind carried the smell of rotting flesh over here, and she swallowed, feeling as if her chest was stuffed with cotton.

Bacchus stood in the very center on the high platform, his scepter tracing an arc along the ground.

The runestone at the end of the scepter kept glowing, and a proud, cold laugh hung in his voice, "Add more formation, suppress it again—" Before he could finish speaking, a spark suddenly burst from the front of the scepter, his wrist trembled, his steps became unsteady, and his whole body sank backward.

The warlock next to him reached out to help, but his arm jerked in mid-air as if he had been electrocuted, almost pulling him down with him.

Back in the cave, Ron finally managed to suppress the back pressure to its maximum.

The warning symbol at the top of the console is flashing, indicating that the load is approaching its limit.

He took a spare talisman nail and forced it into the slot.

The metal emitted a harsh, screeching sound, as if in protest.

He ignored it and continued to push forward.

This was as if the drumhead had been stretched an inch tighter.

The mental waves instantly rebounded. Hundreds of people in the outer camp knelt down in unison, bleeding from their mouths and noses. Some gripped the ground with both hands, digging mud into their fingers.

The wizards closest to the black stakes immediately covered their heads and rolled on the ground. One by one, the black stakes were extinguished, until only the one in the very center was still struggling to stay afloat, its light dim, like a lamp about to go out.

Claudia seized the opportunity and led his personal guards to flank from the side and rear, directly attacking the Ironscale Hunters' crossbow formation.

She slammed her spear into the ground, using the momentum to leap into the air, and when she landed, half of the entire row of ballistae collapsed.

The guards removed the crossbow strings and threw the remaining bolts into the mud.

The Ironscale Hunter tried to organize his formation, but a clump of slime stuck to him, binding his legs and feet so that he could only hop around in place like a chicken with a rope tied around his neck.

Another shower of stones fell from the top of the cave. Large and small stones struck shields, helmets, and shoulder blades, producing a series of muffled thuds.

The mercenaries' battle cries completely subsided. Some ran, some retreated, and some lay down to play dead. The Skullcrusher's flag fell again, but this time no one bothered to pick it up.

Ron swallowed the blood and took another breath.

He slowed the pace, allowing the monsters to shift from "charge" back to "defense".

The sand snake carried away the armored corpse, the slime retreated to the edge of the pit, and the stonewing beast returned to its nest and stood still.

The rockfall stopped, and the pits closed in circles, revealing black, oily mud.

The cave's "breathing" also slowed down, like panting after a battle.

The platform outside was silent for a moment, then more people were dragged up.

They piled up the various colored talismans into a stack, flames licking the edges, and black smoke billowing low.

Bakus took a deep breath, slammed his scepter on the ground, and the flames of the talisman shot up, a new stinging sensation rushing in with the night wind.

Ron slammed on the warning light on the edge of the control panel.

He knew the other party hadn't given up yet, and he also knew the night wouldn't end quickly.

He pushed all the spare talisman materials to his side and arranged them in a row, like a row of knives.

He tapped his knuckles lightly on the table, counting the beats.

A faint ripple came from the other side of the underground river; it wasn't a monster, it was a person.

Ron's heart skipped a beat, and the rune pattern along the outer edge of the cave quickly spread out in his vision, with several thin lines moving toward the cave entrance.

The Dark Swamp Poison Shadow has begun its infiltration.

He slid the console to the sidebar and turned on the terrain switch for "Entrance 2".

The stone slabs beneath the steps made a soft creaking sound, like a front tooth shivering, and in the next instant, an inch of the hidden landslide surface quietly emerged.

Three steps to the left, a thin layer of stone peels away, revealing freshly laid clay underneath.

Anyone who steps on it will feel like they've fallen into a bottomless pit of chewing gum; the more they struggle, the deeper they sink.

Ron stopped looking at the platform outside.

He grabbed the long bone knife, tucked it back into his waistband, and patted the ironback beast's armor. "Watch the gate."

The Ironback Beast let out a low growl, its throat resonating with a dull, metallic sound.

The heavily armored beast stepped half a step further in, blocking the entrance to the inner passage.

A layer of slime seeped out from the crack, spreading out thinly, like a layer of oil being applied to the ground.

The dark stakes in the distance lit up again, but the light was weak. The chaos in the mercenary camp had not yet subsided, and the bugle calls from the rear sounded intermittently, like someone was choking them.

The wind blew in from the mouth of the underground river, carrying a damp chill, the smell of mud, and a barely audible rustling sound.

With heavy steps and soft breaths, the shadow crept along the stone wall, reaching deeper inside.

The night grew deeper. The cave lowered its body even further, like a cat about to pounce.

Chapter 157

Before the noise in the camp had completely subsided, the Dark Swamp Shadows' stalkers had already reached the entrance to the cave.

In the darkness, their footsteps were as light as feathers, their breaths shallow, their bodies pressed against the stone wall, sliding in little by little.

Outside the entrance, the pit had just closed, and the soil was not yet fully stabilized, so it looked no different from an ordinary stone surface.

The first stalker stepped on it, and before he could react, his entire leg was swallowed up.

His expression changed drastically, and he tried desperately to shrink back, but the people behind him quickly reached out to pull him back.

"do not move!"

The captain whispered, but his voice came a beat too late.

The layer of clay instantly closed up, and the two people were dragged into the black mud together. After rolling around a few times, only a corroded rope remained floating on the surface of the mud.

The others tensed up, clinging to the wall, afraid to move. The captain gritted his teeth, pointed to the other side, where there was a crevice in the rock, seemingly a way to avoid the trap.

They walked over cautiously, but as soon as they stepped on it, the stone wall suddenly collapsed, and a large mass of slimes rushed out.

Green slime splattered all over the ground. The stalker reacted quickly, slicing a gash with a flash of his blade, but the little bit of slime that splashed onto his body had already made his bracers hiss and smoke.

"spread!"

The captain let out a low growl.

But as soon as they dispersed, a pile of gravel suddenly fell from above, crashing down with a loud thud.

Several stalkers were knocked down on the spot, their backs and helmets dented, and they were unable to get up again.

Deep within the passage, the Ironback Beast slowly moved its body, pushing its heavy bone shield forward half a step.

That action seemed like a silent protest.

The heavily armored beast followed closely behind, its eyes bloodshot, its breathing labored, each exhale bringing with it a wave of heat.

The captain's face turned ashen; he realized that his team had fallen into the enemy's trap.

He gritted his teeth, waved his hand, pulled out a black explosive talisman, and threw it forward.

boom!

A burst of fire erupted, filling the passage with gray smoke, and sending rubble flying in all directions.

Before the smoke had even cleared, the rune array on the control panel lit up with a buzzing sound.

Ron pressed his finger down, and a crack suddenly appeared in the ground at the entrance of the cave.

The few stalkers who had just rushed in lost their footing and fell down, surrounded by sand snakes with their mouths wide open.

Instantly, screams erupted one after another.