The Alchemist's Guide to Flesh and Blood Ascension

Lin had never felt that sleepy before.

In its gradually blurring vision, the throne appeared and disappeared... and the calls of its people came from all directions.

"No, no! Lin can't die!" The lame ratman struggled to crawl forward a little further.

Edmund also managed to break free of the ether's restraints, emerging from the shadows covered in blood—he was also at his limit, but much better off than Lin.

Just as the dagger, gleaming with divine light, pierced the darkness once more, aimed straight for Lin's nape...

A violent and unrestrained stream of blue light smashed the "holy light" in front of it to pieces!

boom--!

Edmund felt an indescribable force slam into him, shattering his bones and sending him crashing heavily into the wall with a thud!

Yunevo shook the dust off his black robe and stepped onto the broken metal fragments on the bank of the wastewater river. "Forgive me for being late to your rescue..."

He took out a specially made healing potion from his waist, which glowed with a pale purple light—it was a potion he had improved after extracting the regeneration essence of the sea buckthorn demon in the Morse Desert, and it could stop the wound from worsening in a short time.

Then, the black-robed alchemist took out a syringe, located it at Lin's heart, and slowly injected the medicine into it...

Lin's life is at least hanging by a thread.

The visible wound was stopping bleeding at an unusual speed, and then it seemed to be forcibly sealed by some kind of transparent gelatinous substance, rapidly healing itself!

The lame ratman's previously unfocused pupils suddenly contracted, and he coughed up a mouthful of bloody, foul-smelling water. "Cough... Great Lin just said... just said he was lucky to be alive!"

Its whiskers trembled weakly, and it even tried to reach out and wring the dirty water off its tattered cloak, but was stopped by Yonevo.

"Lie down quietly for a while, and I'll take you back to the palace in a bit," the latter said, casting a murderous glare at the "Holy Cross" leader, who was in terrible condition.

Edmund's badges, hidden in his undergarment, were shattered by the impact, with several fragments even embedding themselves in his own chest...

Even his meticulously groomed goatee was now stained crookedly with blood, leaving only his eyes fixed on Yonivore and his throat still emitting low moans.

"You...you are the alchemist that Bishop Uriel specifically mentioned..." Edmund tried to "pry" himself off the wall, but with little success.

Ionevoy remained silent, but slowly stepped forward, grabbed Edmund by the collar, and pulled him off the wall. Then, he forced a smile: "At this moment... should I say 'hello'?"

A cloud of yellow sand, like a millstone, billowed up beside the black-robed alchemist, slowly grinding the leader of the "Holy Cross" into mud...

"Over at Nehta..." He didn't even glance at Edmund's dead state, but instead went straight over to help Lin up.

"Cough...he's a tough nut to crack..."

The Ratman Ranger stood firm amidst the "meat grinder" of flesh and steel, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, looked at Walker opposite him like a mad dog, and smacked his lips.

"You beasts!" Walker, who had been fighting until the sky darkened, had thrown all reason aside. He smashed the steam pipe with his sword, sending fragments flying everywhere. The white steam mixed in with the fragments, turning the blood-red air pink.

"A pipeline?" Nehta murmured.

A heavy crossbow bolt, entirely black, shot through the still-lingering mist, carrying a chilling aura of death that sent shivers down one's spine!

clang!

Driven entirely by his fighting instincts, Walker narrowly blocked a fatal blow with his sword. At that moment, he was unable to utter a single complete word.

"Tsk tsk, your suicidal fighting style..." Nehta stretched his incredibly sore legs and quietly approached the largest steam pipe.

The crisp sound of air strikes made Walker turn his head and, without hesitation, slash his sword at the location of the ratman ranger!

Sizzle—!

The steam made it hard for him to open his eyes, and the heat on his face was hard to dissipate for a while!

"Damn it... a Pyrrhic victory is still a victory," the ratman wiped the blood from his right eye and replaced it with an explosive crossbow bolt.

boom--!!!

The pipe's supporting beams collapsed at that moment, and boulders and metal fragments poured down like an apocalyptic meteor shower, crashing down on Nehta and Walker!

"Sigh, too bad I can't make sewer kebabs now," the Ratman Ranger sighed, unfolding the Arcane Shield he'd swiped from Dark on the spot, watching the once-mighty golden light dissipate.

It then looked at the remains of the paladins and priests scattered on the ground, and at its brethren who had perished there. It grabbed a handful of nuts and scattered them on the ground.

"Sixth Brother, let's take the men and get out of here..."

……

The smoke of battle on the four fronts slowly dissipated at this moment.

The western pipeline was as silent as an execution ground.

Near the end, there were also rows of unidentifiable corpses.

The cut at the neck was clean; the cultists who died there didn't even see the enemy's face before they utterly succumbed to the silence.

Only the occasional flash of blue light told the story of this "execution".

Seth the Holy Prayer sat on a relatively clean rock, swallowed a mouthful of the "magic repair potion" left by Yunefu, and returned along the same route with the spoils of war and the few remaining "survivors".

Uriel dared not kill him again... After all, the Church of Hart City had few usable personnel left after Uriel's repeated "purges of heretics".

"This page has finally been turned," he said, glancing back at the figures of frogmen or ratmen emerging from the shadows.

Their eyes met, they nodded to each other, and he and his team disappeared at the end of the pipe.

At this moment, the creatures of "Root" are slowly gathering, each holding a few fresh, decaying fish in the center of the gathering place, waiting for the warriors to return.

One after another, the wounded ratmen and frogmen emerged from the four pipes, until finally the rest of the Yunevo people appeared.

Everyone took a step forward in unison, surrounding the "Triumphant" squad, which was much smaller than expected.

Apart from Yunevo and Iseria, every living being in the squad was wounded, their skin covered in blood that was indistinguishable as that of enemies or themselves.

Their faces bore an undeniable weariness, a weariness born from seeing blood and committing murder…

mature.

Those creatures who had not yet joined the battle watched silently, hoping to spot their unseen relatives and friends in the small squad that could be seen at a glance.

But most of them failed.

There was no cheering throughout the entire "roots," only countless pairs of eyes glistening with tears.

Won.

But the victory was met with devastation...