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

The shadow scales spread to their limit, their dense scales unfolding in the air to form dark barriers, separating the waves of gray shadows rushing towards the back row.

With each scale that shattered, the crimson color on her body deepened.

The crossbow emplacements desperately fired.

Wave after wave of arrows lashed at the flesh, widening the crack.

The mass of flesh churned violently, spewing out black liquid continuously. Its surface was corroded and pitted, and the air was filled with a pungent, fishy smell.

Ron raised his left hand and pressed his palm directly into the crack. System notifications flashed frantically in his mind:

[Warning: Mental Corruption Value +99]

[Danger: Soul separation is about to occur]

He gritted his teeth and forced the knife and his palm into the crack together. Blood and annihilation waves intertwined, exploding instantly deep within the rift.

boom--

The entire hall shook, and the runes on the bone walls shattered simultaneously, with light scattering like ripples on water.

The mass of flesh let out a heart-wrenching scream, the sound of which knocked many soldiers unconscious, causing them to spurt blood from their ears, mouths, and noses.

But the rift finally tore open completely, half of the lump of flesh was cleaved in two, and the soul within rushed out instantly, scattering in all directions like a tide.

Some of them fell back into the soldiers' bodies, allowing the fallen to open their eyes again; others simply vanished without a trace.

The true form of the Eye of the Void was twisted, and the remaining parts writhe wildly, trying to close up again.

Ron drew his sword and slashed again, shattering the last core into pieces.

Blood-red light shot into the sky, the mist was shaken and swirled back, and the entire hall seemed to be torn open, the oppressive atmosphere suddenly dissipating.

A brief silence.

Corpses were everywhere. Thirty percent of the fallen soldiers never moved again.

The survivor leaned against the wall, panting heavily, blood and sweat mingling together. The crossbow platform was half destroyed, and the crossbowman's arm was too weak to grip the weapon.

Viser plopped down on the ground, panting for a few breaths, his hand still firmly gripping his sword.

He stared at the stone pillar, his voice low and deep: "Is it over?"

Ron didn't answer; he stared at the location of the flesh fragments. The fragments were still writhing, but were firmly suppressed by the bloody light, unable to reassemble.

A system notification appears:

The core of the instance—the Eye of the Void (outer ring)—has been destroyed.

[Current Progress: Abyss Bone Tower 37%]

Ron sheathed his sword, a mouthful of blood welling up in his throat, which he forced down.

He turned around, his gaze sweeping over the wounded and corpses, and without uttering any unnecessary words, simply uttered two words: "Establish formation."

The surviving soldiers immediately sprang into action, dragging the corpses, setting up stakes, and rearranging the fire rings and blood troughs.

The craftsman nailed the spare talisman nails to the stone wall, lit the torches, and the hall was illuminated again.

Claudia retracted the Shadow Scale, swayed slightly, and was supported by the attendant beside her.

Her eyes were bloodshot, but she still whispered, "The formation has held... it can last all night."

Viser leaned against the stone wall, grinned, but didn't laugh out loud; instead, he spat out a mouthful of blood.

Ron said nothing more; he knew this was only the first step in the Bone Tower.

The outer ring core is destroyed, but the inner part of the tower is still waiting deep inside.

The gray fog had not completely dissipated, and a low rumble could still be heard in the distance.

The fire in the hall burned all night, its light casting a dark red glow on the blood tank.

The air was still chilly, but the oppressive feeling was less than last night.

The soldiers dozed off against the bone wall, but their sleep was restless, filled with screams in their dreams.

Before dawn, a deep tremor came from deep inside the tower, like a heavy bell being struck.

The stone walls of the entire hall trembled together, the rune remnants lit up again, and the shattered bones began to wriggle and piece together to form a new wall surface.

Chapter 169

Ron stood up and stared into the darkness. He knew the tower wouldn't give them a chance to catch their breath.

"All troops line up and continue the advance."

The drumbeats sounded again, and the procession regrouped. Torches were stuck in iron buckets and carried by hand.

The crossbow had a new string, and the crossbowman's eyes were frighteningly dark, but he still gritted his teeth and raised the crossbow.

The wind changed the moment I stepped inside the tower.

It wasn't the gray fog outside, but a chilling wind blowing out from the heart of the tower.

The wind carried dust, like sand scraping against the skin, and in no time, the exposed areas were covered in bloodstains.

The craftsmen hurriedly wrapped strips of cloth around the soldiers' armor and stuffed them with animal fat to barely block the flames.

The further they went, the stronger the wind became. The torches were blown about, and the flames nearly went out several times. The ballista platform was forced to stop and be reinforced, with iron nails being driven deep into the stone.

The first wave of monsters revealed themselves in the wind.

That was "Wind Devouring Shadow." Its body was slender, like a fleeting shadow swirled by the wind, and its claws were so fast they were almost invisible.

They practically flew up with the wind at their backs. The first few people in the row couldn't stop them and were instantly cut to pieces. Their bodies were sucked away by the wind, leaving only a pool of blood.

Viser roared, his entire body facing the wind.

His sword pressed down even lower, each strike creating huge waves of wind and pulverizing the Wind Devourer Shadow into dust.

But there were too many of them, and they kept coming out in batches.

The crossbows fired in unison, the arrows deflecting in the wind; many missed, a few hit their mark, pinning their shadows to the stone wall. Those shadows twisted and struggled, only to be swept away by the wind again soon after.

Ron raised his hand, and a wave of blood surged down. The ripples collided with the wind, like two streams of water clashing. The air was compressed, creating a buzzing sound, and the soldiers' ears were filled with a stinging pain.

Claudia unfurled the talismans and pasted them one by one onto the ground. The runes lit up, carving a path through the windless air. The procession then squeezed forward along that path.

But the number of Wind-Eating Shadows increased, disrupting the team's rhythm.

Some people were a step too slow and were blown away by the wind, crashing into the stone wall without even having time to scream.

Ron gritted his teeth and activated [Annihilation Mimicry - Second Form].

The blood-red light turned completely black, and cracks appeared on the blade.

With a single slash, the entire wind tunnel was severed, and the gale stopped for a moment.

In that half-breath, the team broke through the narrowest wind gap.

The cost was enormous. Ron's arm was mangled and torn apart, his wrist guard shattered into pieces, and his hilt was covered in blood.

He gripped the knife tightly and didn't stop.

Once the gust of wind passed, a vast open space appeared ahead.

Above it was a swirling vortex, constantly spewing out gray shadows, as if the wind itself was creating a monster.

Viser led the charge, his greatsword slashing wildly at the vortexes, managing to shatter several of them.

The craftsman took the opportunity to stuff the talisman nails into the cracks, and the blood flowed down, sealing three of them.

But the rest were still spewing bizarre nonsense.

"All crossbows!" Ron commanded.

Wave after wave of crossbow bolts shot directly at the eye of the vortex. With each bolt, the vortex contracted. After more than a dozen rounds, it was finally extinguished by more than half.

The last vortex exploded, scattering gray shadows, and the sound of the wind gradually subsided.

The hall fell silent again, now only littered with corpses. The air was thick with a pungent, fishy stench.

Less than half of the soldiers survived, many with their arms mangled and bloodied, yet they still stood, gritting their teeth. Two crossbow platforms were destroyed, and the crossbowmen who operated them were dragged to the rear after losing consciousness.

Ron was panting heavily, his shoulders shaking. System notifications flashed through his mind:

[Mental Erosion Value: Critical]

[WARNING: Annihilation simulation can no longer be used]

He took a deep breath and pressed the knife firmly back into its sheath.

The wind within the tower had ceased, but a deeper echo lingered in the distance. The power of the bone tower was brewing, even more terrifying than before.

Ron glanced at the remaining troops and uttered three words in a deep voice:

"Keep pushing."

The storm had finally passed, leaving only the oppressive stench of blood in the air. The group continued forward, but before they had gone far enough, the scene ahead suddenly changed.

It was a long corridor, ten zhang wide, but the walls and surfaces were not made of stone, but of writhing flesh. Every inch of the wall pulsated, as if breathing. When you walked in, your feet would sink into the sticky, soft flesh, and when you pulled them out, you could draw out a thin line of blood.

The soldiers' faces changed, but no one dared to stop.

After walking only a few dozen steps into the corridor, a deep, thumping sound reached my ears, overlapping with my heartbeat. The thumping grew faster and faster, and a crack appeared in the fleshy wall of the corridor, from which blood-red tentacles emerged.

The tentacle, barbed and sharp, lashed out, piercing the chest of a soldier in the front row and dragging him into the flesh, leaving no time for a scream.

Viser acted swiftly, sweeping his greatsword across the area and severing over a dozen tentacles simultaneously. A dark red liquid oozed from the cuts, splattering and corroding the surface, creating pits. The air instantly filled with a pungent, acidic stench.

The crossbows in the rear began to suppress the attack, but the arrows only managed to pin down a few tentacles after hitting the fleshy walls, and new ones would soon emerge.

Claudia chanted a spell in a deep voice, slapping dozens of runes onto the ground at once. The runes lit up, creating a wall of fire. The flames spread along the corridor, burning the tentacles back and causing the fleshy walls to emit strange growls.

The group seized the opportunity to accelerate, rushing forward desperately. But the deeper they went, the more tentacles appeared, and the walls even cracked open, threatening to swallow them whole.

Ron raised his hand, unleashing a full wave of blood energy. He slashed through the air with his blade, the crimson light carving a deep gash that carved a path through the corridor. The blood-grind craftsman immediately followed, driving iron nails into the flesh and sealing the wound with his blood. By pushing forward segment by segment, they managed to avoid being swallowed up by the corridor.

After half an incense stick's time, the exit finally appeared at the end of the corridor.

But a monster was blocking the way to the exit.

Those were the guardians of the flesh and blood corridor, larger than a house, their bodies entwined and pieced together by tentacles, their heads tilted, their mouths splitting to their chests, filled with sharp teeth. With each step they took, a pit of flesh and blood sank into their surface.

Its arms simultaneously unleashed hundreds of fine tentacles, descending like a net. The front-line soldiers were instantly trapped, their armor pierced, and they were torn apart in mid-air.