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

A corpse puppet lunged at the foot of the crossbow platform, only to be kicked away by a soldier on the platform and impaled on a wooden stake. It thrashed about, but remained still after a few breaths.

The corpse puppets were not afraid of pain; half of them fell down, while the other half crossed the ring of fire.

Suddenly, runic light shone from the ring of fire. Claudia pressed a wooden plaque, and the runes on the plaque spun around. A bone spike emerged from the ground and pierced through the belly of the corpse puppet.

The bone spurs weren't straight; they arched upwards segment by segment, stringing the corpse puppet together like fish on skewers.

Shadowscale climbed up the bone spikes, gnawing its way up. A few breaths later, the string of corpse puppets turned into a pile of broken bones.

Ron didn't move. He stood in the central ring, his finger lightly tapping, and the law waves rose and fell like breathing, controlling the rhythm of the entire front line. If the rhythm were disrupted, the front line would collapse. It wasn't disrupted now.

After the first round of corpse puppets retreated, the Fire Ring was refueled.

The craftsman held the wooden box by the fire to warm it, then wrapped it tightly in blue cloth.

Inside were newly made "directional talisman nails," their surfaces still warm. The archer took them and inserted them into the side slot of the crossbow platform. The crossbowman remained silent, raising his hand to test the winch twice.

A quarter past midnight, the fog suddenly thickened again.

It wasn't the wind, but a sticky, oppressive feeling; the air felt like moldy cloth.

A slight ripple appeared at the edge of the silent domain, like something stirring the surface of water. A low tremor came from the depths of the bone tower, slowly approaching.

This is not a corpse puppet.

Ron raised his hand, signaling everyone to stay still.

The drumbeats subsided, leaving only the sound of fire.

The fog slowly swirled above the campsite, forming a shallow vortex.

The vortex grew deeper and deeper, and a thin line appeared at the center. The thin line gradually expanded, as if someone was pushing open an invisible window.

A chill ran through the camp, chilling you to the bone.

Claudia looked up without speaking, and Shadowscale hid under her neck, its scales taut and hard.

The thing finally opened completely, like a door that shouldn't exist.

Behind the door was darkness, but within that darkness was a bright spot. That bright spot remained still, yet it made everyone's heart tighten.

It made no sound, but the surrounding flames pressed down an inch, as if it were suffocating them.

“Eye of the Void Soul,” Claudia said in a low voice.

There was no commotion in the camp, only an increased quiet. Someone's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, then quickly stopped.

The creature slowly turned towards the camp, and the murmurs in the air were replaced by a pinprick-like sound.

Many people broke out in a cold sweat on the back of their necks. Several Red Rope Soldiers gripped their weapons on the ground, their fingers white and their knuckles cracking.

“Balloon platform,” Ron said.

The crossbowmen stood up silently, pulled the winch, and the first volley was fired.

The crossbow bolt was drawn into an arc in mid-air and thrown towards the black mass.

Halfway through the flight, it suddenly felt as if it were being held by soft mud, slowing down and veering off course by a fraction of an inch.

The second volley of crossbow bolts followed, and the directional talisman flashed, forcefully pulling the bolts back. The three bolts collided in mid-air and pierced the target.

There was no sound. The dark mass only dented slightly, as if something had poked it into a shallow hole. The next moment, the hole closed up, and the darkness returned to its original state.

"Continue," Ron said calmly.

The third wave, the fourth wave, the fifth wave... the crossbow bolts came wave after wave.

Each time it crashed into the darkness, it would dent slightly before returning to its original position. The crossbowman's palms were blistered, blood soaking into his bandages and staining them a dark red. No one stopped; the drumbeats resounded steadily in the stillness.

The Eye of the Void finally moved. It didn't flee; instead, it dropped downwards, getting closer to the camp.

The oppressive feeling doubled, and the coolness in the air felt like water being poured into my lungs.

Several soldiers began to tremble, not from fear, but from a loss of control over their bodies. The medic pried open a short, barbed needle and forcefully plunged it into their arms. Blood gushed out, and the men's breathing became easier.

A thin wisp of gray light, like a spider's thread, hung down from the Eye of the Void Soul, descending from mid-air to the ground and landing at the edge of the Silent Domain.

Where the gray light fell, the blood in the blood groove hissed and bubbled, but instead of steam, it emitted a chillingly cold aura. The coldness crept along the blood groove, reaching the edge of the black crystal.

Claudia's hand suddenly tightened, and she pressed her palm directly onto the black crystal.

The red line inside the black crystal suddenly rushed forward, circling three times, as if it wanted to break through the crystal shell.

She didn't move her hand. Shadow Scales emerged from her sleeve, curling up on the back of her hand, their scales standing up one by one. She clenched her teeth, and a gash appeared in her palm, blood flowing into the black crystal.

As soon as the black crystal lit up, the coldness in the blood bar was firmly suppressed and pinned to the side, unable to move.

Ron took a step forward, his entire body seemingly blocked by something invisible. His shoulders slumped, and a slight crack appeared in the floor beneath his feet. He released a wave of law, which was half swallowed by the black mass of the Void Soul Eye, while the other half bounced back, hitting the camp and overturning two empty barrels. The barrels rolled twice before coming to rest near the fire, wisps of smoke rising from their mouths.

“Commander.” Viser stood to his right rear, pressing his sword down, the blade trembling slightly. He neither moved forward nor backed away.

“Two more rounds,” Ron said. “Use both crossbow bolts and rune nails.”

The craftsmen immediately stuffed all the spare talismans into the side slots of the crossbow platform, and the crossbowman wiped his palms and pulled his gloves tighter.

The drumbeat quickened by half a beat, and the crossbow bolts were released simultaneously.

A thicker chain formed in the air, forcefully pulling a deeper dent into the black membrane on the surface of the Eye of the Void Soul. The dent remained for two breaths before slowly rebounding on the third.

This time, the Eye of the Void was truly enraged. The mist above it seemed to be scorched by fire, bursting out in all directions. The torches throughout the camp jumped together, their tips bent as if someone had pressed them down from above.

More than one wisp of gray light descended from the sky, seven or eight of them, like thin snakes searching for the blood groove. The places where the blood groove was bitten immediately frosted over, and layers of frost grew, climbing up to the edge of the black crystal.

Ron untied the strap on his left hand, revealing an old scar on the back of his hand.

He used his old wound to press against the other side of the black crystal, and whispered two ancient words. The wave of law no longer pushed forward, but plunged downward, into the bottom of the blood groove.

The blood bar trembled twice, shattering the frost flowers into powder, which fell to the ground, leaving a white layer on the ground.

His face grew paler and paler, sweat beaded on his forehead, and the sweat trickled down his neck and into his collar.

A servant offered him a second pill, but he didn't take it. Claudia didn't turn around either; her shoulders trembled the whole way, as if pulled by an unseen wind. Shadow scales wrapped tightly around her arms, like iron rings.

"Fire Ring, second layer." Ron sighed.

The archers did as instructed, and the second ring of fire was lit. The fire ran along the oil ditch and circled the edge of the quiet area.

As the fire intensified, the few strands of gray light emanating from the Eye of the False Soul receded, as if it had been scalded. The dent became shallower again.

“Use all the directional nails,” Ron said.

"We're done," someone on the crossbow platform replied. "Only two baskets of ordinary arrows left."

“Then fill it up,” Ron said.

The crossbows no longer waited for the right rhythm; they fired whenever there was an opening.

The arrows in the trough were dwindling. The crossbowmen's arms began to cramp, and some used their teeth to bite the leather straps to barely hold their arms in place and continue pulling the winch.

Someone dislocated their shoulder, and a soldier next to them snapped their arm back into place with a crack, then continued firing. No one cried out.

The Eye of the Void finally retracted half a foot, as if it was getting impatient.

The layer of darkness above it began to slowly swirl. The swirl was slow, but everyone in the camp could feel it changing, and the wind direction changed too.

The wind no longer blew from the bone tower, but surged in from outside the camp, as if trying to extinguish all the fires.

"Third ring, open," Ron whispered.

The third ring is neither fire nor talisman, but blood. The blood tanks of thirty volunteers are connected together, like a net.

Claudia pressed the last piece of black crystal into the slot. The black crystal shattered with a crack, and red lines darted into the blood like snakes. The blood instantly glowed, and a red light rose from the ground, enveloping the entire silent domain.

The red light was only a thin layer, yet it withstood the downward pressure.

The Eye of the Void paused for a moment, then pulled upwards as if trying to pull something away.

The red light was stretched taut, until it made a soft cracking sound. Many people had toothaches, so much so that they gripped their weapons tightly.

Ron held the knife horizontally in front of him, the back of the blade against his chest, and thrust his heel back, driving it half an inch into the ground.

"Stay calm." He only said two words.

The red light finally stabilized and didn't break. The rotation of the Eye of the Void slowed down, even a little slower.

It seemed to be weighing its options, considering its options, and keeping track of this position. It neither retreated nor pressed forward.

Two breaths later, it slowly moved upwards, reaching a point ten feet above the camp, paused, and then continued upwards until it merged back into the depths of the gray-white mist.

The oil in the fire ring was still burning; the flames flickered twice before slowly settling down. The drumbeats stopped. Only heavy breathing could be heard in the camp, one breath after another.

Ron removed his hand from the edge of the black crystal, the blood on his palm cooling in the night breeze. He sheathed his knife, his foot slipped, and he almost fell, but Viser caught him. Viser didn't speak, but simply pulled him back to steady himself.

Chapter 168

Claudia collected the shattered black crystal, her hand smeared with blood. She glanced down at the blood bar, and Shadow Scale poked its head out, sniffed at the edge, and then withdrew.

"Jingyu has stabilized." She said, her voice a little hoarse, "Tomorrow, push open the tower gate."

Ron nodded. He didn't say anything more, and turned to look at the tower in the distance.

The fog was still there, a grayish-white expanse, the tower's shadow shrouded within it.

The people in the camp began to clean up the crossbows, oiling the strings, pulling the broken arrows from the ground, and putting them back in the baskets.

The medic dragged several unconscious soldiers to the rear and forced medicine into their mouths. The craftsman disassembled the spare talisman nails, his fingers trembled slightly, but he steadied himself and finished writing the talisman.

The night grew deeper. The fire was rekindled, its light illuminating the blood tank.

A long, resounding sound came from afar, like a mountain turning over. Three more knocks echoed from deep within the tower, spaced neither too fast nor too slow, as if in response.

Ron watched for a while, then turned and went back to his tent. Just as he stepped inside, he paused again, turning back to look at the gray expanse.

He didn't speak, but stepped into the warmth left by the night. His cloak brushed against the bone beads hanging by the door, and the beads made a crisp sound.

In the last few hours before dawn, the camp was shrouded in fog, and it was as quiet as the entire wilderness.

Only the black flag was moving, its pole creaking in the wind. The stillness was covered by an invisible membrane, so thin that one thought it could be broken with a single step, yet it remained there, stretching all the way to the faintest sliver of light on the horizon.

Ron woke up very early without anyone calling him.

He picked up the cooled water and took a couple of sips, then picked up the map and gently tapped the dagger on the spot where the tower gate was located. With a slight pressure from his palm, the tip of the dagger left a white dot on the wooden surface.

He rolled up the map and left the tent.

In the camp, people had already lined up, ten new crossbows had been made, and the bone snakes had been fitted with new spikes.