Lin Feng raised an eyebrow. Once this skill is triggered, the opponent will be hit regardless of whether they block or take the hit head-on.

With the damage reduction from Golden Scale Iron Wall and the healing from Bloodthirst, he might not lose even if he stood still and traded blows with someone.

He twirled the spear in the backhand, making the Wildfire Spear heavier and faster than before, its tip emitting a low hum as it sliced ​​through the air.

He nodded in satisfaction, put the gun back at his side, and turned his gaze to the center of the sinkhole.

The remains of the undead silver dragon Frostbone are slowly disappearing, with bone fragments peeling off layer by layer, turning into grayish-white light spots that drift away, revealing a stone staircase extending downwards beneath the remains.

At the end of the stone steps, a semi-transparent light curtain flickered slightly in the darkness, with a line of words appearing on it: 【Entrance to the seventh level of the dungeon】.

He didn't go down immediately; instead, he bent down and picked up the silvery-white egg, which was warm to the touch.

He had a slight thought, and the attribute panel popped up, but it only had one line of prompts:

【Unable to view. Please add the Silver Dragon Egg to your territory's core before viewing its specific attributes.】

He reluctantly and carefully put the silver dragon egg into his pocket, then picked up the dark purple memory crystal.

A very faint golden line is visible along the edge of the crystal, appearing and disappearing in the dim light.

He stared at the golden pattern for a moment, and a thought popped into his mind: it was another memory crystal.

I wonder what we'll see this time. The piece that belonged to Sylvia before was the final scene of the Shadow Council, and the truth about the source of the Black Tide.

What could be inside this?

He gripped the crystal tightly, activated it, and light burst forth from the crystal, enveloping him in a dark purple halo.

The outline of the sinkhole began to blur, distort, and fade, like a painting soaked in water.

The sky over Elderland was obscured by silver dragon wings.

Dragunov rode the silver dragon "Frostbone" and soared hundreds of meters in the air.

Behind him stood the entire dragon cavalry legion, seventeen silver dragons and seventeen knights, arranged in a wedge formation, like a silver spear piercing the sky.

The clouds churned beneath their feet like a white ocean, while sunlight poured down from above, making the dragon scales shine like mirrors.

The land below is the northern border of Elderland.

Green forests, silver rivers, gray fortresses—everything is being swallowed up by blackness at a visible speed.

The Kuroshio Current isn't a tide; it's alive.

The black fog spread in all directions like tentacles, causing vegetation to wither, rivers to turn black, and the earth to crack wherever it passed.

Within the black mist, countless Nightmare monsters surged.

Shadow wolves, their joints bent backward, moved silently through the darkness. Corpse-men dragged their grayish-white bodies forward in droves. Shadow worms, like crushed shadows, flowed across the ground, occasionally extending a blurry hand before quickly retreating back into the depths of the black mist.

Their eyes are dark red, densely packed, like burning charcoal covering the entire earth.

Dragunov raised his dragon lance, the tip pointing forward and the butt resting on the dragon saddle.

"Drakenrs, charge!"

Seventeen silver dragons simultaneously folded their wings, like seventeen shooting stars falling vertically from the sky.

The first rank of dragon riders simultaneously hurled their dragon spears. The magically enhanced silver spears fell from a hundred meters in the air, carrying the light of armor-piercing runes, and cleaved into the black tide.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The explosions burst open in the black mist, resembling clusters of orange-red flowers.

The Shadow Wolf was blasted away, the Corpse Man was burned to ashes, and the Shadow Worm screamed as it evaporated in the light.

Then the dragons crashed into the Kuroshio Current.

Frostbone bit into the head of a giant Nightmare Spider, black blood gushing out and leaving a hissing sound of corrosion on the dragon scales.

Dragunov held a shield in his left hand and drew his sword in his right, severing the wing of a Nightmare Winged Demon with a single strike.

The winged demon screamed as it plummeted to the ground, only to be crushed by another silver dragon that swooped down from behind.

On the ground, and further into the black mist, dozens of tall figures began to move.

The Nightmare Knight has a human-like upper body, while its lower body is fused with a dark purple Nightmare Horse.

They wielded long-handled scythes, and beneath their visors were only two dark purple spots of light, as they moved at an astonishing speed toward the edge of the battlefield.

They are not here for a direct confrontation; they are here to block any escape routes.

But Dragunov didn't look at them. His gaze pierced through the black mist and landed deeper in the darkness, where a figure draped in a dark purple cloak stood—the Nightmare Shadowweaver.

It had no body; beneath the cloak was only a swirling cloud of black mist.

The face was a white mask, without features, only a vertical crack through which a dark red light shone.

It is watching, watching the dragon herd.

Then it raised its skeletal right hand, and a dark purple energy ball condensed at its fingertips, which it then crushed.

An invisible "psychic pulse" spread out from it, sweeping across the entire battlefield like ripples on the surface of water.

All the Nightmare monsters changed their actions at the same time. The Shadow Wolves retreated to the sides, making way for the Corpse Men. The Corpse Men's formation changed from scattered to dense, surging towards the location where the dragons landed like a tide.

They are adjusting, under unified command.

Dragunov's gaze met the vertical crack for a moment, then he raised his sword.

"Keep killing!"

Seventeen dragons and seventeen knights, like a red-hot knife, pierced the heart of the Black Tide.

This was the last time the Dragoon Legion was deployed in full force.

Three months.

They fought for three months.

Of the seventeen silver dragons, eleven remain; of the seventeen knights, eleven remain.

Dragunov now has a scar that runs diagonally from his forehead to his chin, a cut made by the claws of a Nightmare General that nearly chopped off half of his head.

Frostbone had more than a dozen new wounds on its body, the deepest of which was at the base of its left wing, exposing the white bone inside. Silver blood seeped out with each flap of its wings.

But they are holding on, because behind the defensive line lies the royal capital of Elderland.

This is the final battle.

Then the apostles came.

Dragunov will never forget that day.

The sky suddenly darkened, not because dark clouds covered the sun, but because the light itself was taken away.

The apostle emerged from the void. It was three meters tall, a black humanoid figure with no facial features, only a vertical crack running from its forehead to its chin.

A dark red light shone through the crack, like a half-open door.

It has no wings, yet it stands in the sky as if walking on flat ground. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

The moment it appeared, all the silver dragons simultaneously let out terrified roars—not war cries, but fear.

That was the fear etched deep in their blood, the instinctive reaction when their natural enemy appeared.

For the first time, Dragunov saw Frostbone retreat, the silver dragon who had fought alongside him for twenty years.

It suddenly lurched backward several feet, its wing membranes trembling as if struck by something invisible.

Then he made a decision.

"Form ranks!!"