Chapter 471: The Reaction on the Other Side

Time rewound several minutes earlier.

At the opposite end of the abandoned plane, in the joint landing zone of the Chaos Secret Cult and the Tower of Annihilation.

The terrain here was no different from the Noren workshops’ side—equally gray-white and dead, equally flat and barren.

The difference lay in the fact that far fewer wizards had arrived and landed here first—only about a thousand.

Yet the energy fluctuations emanating from these thousand wizards were far more terrifying than an army of ten thousand.

Because every single one of these thousand was a high-ring wizard.

The one hundred and twenty-seven standing in the core area had auras deep as abyssal seas—they were seventh-ring.

They were the vanguard, the elite, the special assault team tasked with carrying out the most critical decapitation strikes before the main army arrived.

The moment they touched down, the thousand wizards swiftly divided into three groups.

Roughly three hundred immediately fanned out toward the perimeter, rising into the air and deploying warning barrier.

Holding various detection artifacts, they coldly scanned the distant horizon, guarding against any possible surprise attack.

Another three hundred, led by one hundred seventh-ring fate-specialized wizards, began casting fate-type spells in an attempt to seize the information high ground.

The remaining three hundred were all curse specialists.

They quickly formed three concentric circles, sat cross-legged, and retrieved various spellcasting mediums from their storage spaces.

Three hundred curse wizards, each at least sixth-ring, began chanting in unison.

Their voices were not in any known language, but a blend of shrill scraping sounds, deep guttural tones, and an eerie resonance that seemed to echo from the abyss itself.

The air around them twisted. Light dimmed. Even space began to ooze black, viscous “malice.”

In a single volley, they unleashed three thousand one hundred and twenty curses—like three thousand one hundred and twenty invisible poison arrows that tore through space along pre-anchored targets, shooting straight toward the most dazzling geniuses in the Noren workshops’ camp.

At first, everything went smoothly.

“Hit confirmations” continuously fed back through the curse connections—the “death echoes” produced when a target’s soul shattered, body collapsed, and life extinguished.

The seventh-ring wizard monitoring the curse effects even wore a satisfied smile.

But at a certain moment…

“Arghhh!!!”

A short, shrill scream suddenly erupted from the very center of the formation.

It came from the seventh-ring wizard responsible for cursing Jie Ming.

His originally cross-legged body abruptly bowed forward as though struck in the chest by an invisible sledgehammer, then toppled backward, his head slamming heavily against the ground.

But that was not the worst of it.

Deep within his soul, two “foreign entities” detonated.

One was a viscous mass condensed from the negative will of billions of living beings, madly polluting his mental origin.

The other was razor-sharp, like ten thousand blades slicing wantonly through his soul structure.

At the same time, the backlash from the failed curse arrived as well. With all three forces overlay, this seventh-ring wizard’s consciousness was nearly torn to shreds in an instant.

“Mental link! Now!”

The nearby seventh-ring curse wizard reacted extremely quickly and roared.

All the participating curse wizards had long ago used a special ritual to temporarily link their minds and souls before casting—originally to share target information and increase curse precision.

At this moment, that link became a lifeline.

The two filthy, violent forces followed the mental link and were diverted toward the hundreds of surrounding curse wizards!

“Pfft!!”

“Cough—!”

“What the hell is this?!”

Muffled groans, blood-spitting sounds, and furious curses rang out one after another.

Every wizard in the link felt as though their soul had been doused with a ladle of boiling excrement or pierced by countless fine needles.

Though the damage was greatly reduced after being shared, the “pollution” born from the resentment of all living beings and baleful qi clung like maggots on bone—extremely difficult to purge.

The entire curse formation descended into chaos.

Some frantically severed their mental links.

Some tried to use purification spells to dispel the pollution.

Others collapsed in convulsions from the backlash.

By the time they frantically dealt with this sudden counterattack, the first round of curse confrontation between both sides was already nearing its end.

The one coordinating this battle was a peak seventh-ring wizard from the Chaos Secret Cult named “Rotten Throat” Mordekian.

After reviewing the final hit statistics, the expression on his face—already covered in pus-filled sores and fissures—became exceptionally ugly.

“Only… fifty percent completed?”

This figure was far below the pre-battle estimate of “seventy percent.”

And on their side, because of that bizarre counterstrike, more than forty curse wizards had suffered soul injuries and would need at least several hours to regain partial combat capability.

As for the seventh-ring wizard who had taken the brunt of the attack, his soul was gravely wounded, with massive pollution residue still lingering within. He would likely be unable to provide any meaningful combat power on the battlefield for the foreseeable future.

“When did the Noren workshops acquire a defensive technique capable of reflecting seventh-ring curses?” The person in charge from the Tower of Annihilation—a tall, gaunt figure entirely wrapped in gray burial shrouds—asked in a dry, rasping voice.

“No idea.” Mordekian’s voice sounded like sandpaper grinding. “But now it all depends on the fate interference team’s performance.”

“That won’t be easy. The Noren workshops have both greater numbers and stronger fate wizards than we do,” the gray-shrouded figure said in a low voice.

The words had barely fallen when commotion erupted from the fate-specialized group.

Three seventh-ring wizards simultaneously erupted with powerful fluctuations. Their soul flames blazed like tangible fire.

“Assist them!”

At Mordekian’s command, the curse wizards still in relatively good condition immediately extended their mental links toward them.

Moments later, the three seventh-ring fate wizards opened their eyes in a weakened state.

Seeing their drained condition, Mordekian knew that the battlefield had just lost another three seventh-ring combat powers.

However, this sacrifice was worthwhile.

Though they gained no advantage, they had at least stripped the Noren workshops of their greatest reliance.

He raised his head and looked toward the distant horizon.

There, the battle fluctuations of four eighth-ring wizards surged forward like a tsunami.

When the pressure descended, both Mordekian and the gray-shrouded figure beside him merely swayed slightly before steadying themselves.

Seventh-ring wizards had already deepened and expanded their own laws, granting them considerable resistance to high-level pressure.

“The curse battle ended in a draw, and we’ve polluted their fate lines as well,” Mordekian said coldly. “Then we’ll do it the most direct way.”

He raised his rotting right hand and made a gesture.

Behind him, the joint army of the Chaos Secret Cult and the Tower of Annihilation, already fully prepared while the first wave of attacks was launched, began to stir.

An army of over one million seven hundred thousand wizards formed an endless red-black tide.

The red consisted of Chaos Secret Cult wizards clad in deep-crimson robes, their bodies showing varying degrees of mutation.

The dominant black belonged to the Tower of Annihilation wizards, radiating an aura of annihilation.

“Except for the three columns reserved for ‘special missions,’ all other units…”

Mordekian’s voice, amplified by a spell, resounded across the entire army.

“Full army advance.”

“Target: Noren workshops landing zone.”

“Before they can establish a complete defensive system—strike with overwhelming force and crush them.”

The command fell.

The red-black tide moved.

One million seven hundred thousand wizards rose into the sky like a locust plague sweeping the land, transforming into a heaven-blotting dark cloud that surged toward a certain direction.