The black tide descended: a probe out of control
Forty-eight hours after the completion of the Blackiron Canyon, Castian stood at the newly built horse-changing point on the ridge.
This place offers a great view; looking down, you can see the narrowed canyon passage, and to the left is the desolate lowland to the west, which has been flooded and turned into a wasteland.
Further into the distance, the wasteland beyond the Gray Fog and the Blackpine Fief behind him, where the Sacred Flame was faintly lit, also came into his view.
Castian wanted to send a wave of Magic Creature as soon as possible to test the strength of this defensive line.
He didn't have to wait long before the ground beneath his feet suddenly shifted.
First came a very slight tremor, followed by wave after wave of vibrations rolling in from the horizon.
The frequency increased and the force became heavier, even the tiny pebbles the size of fingernails on the edge of the ridge began to vibrate, making a soft, clattering sound as they hit the rock surface.
Castian's grey-blue eyes narrowed slightly.
Wrong.
He took a half step forward, pressed his palm against the rock at the edge of the bunker, and looked out through the Gray Fog.
Three or four thick, black tides, so wide they were almost black, were pushing through the Gray Fog from different directions and converging on the outer side of the Blackpine Fief.
As they pushed in, the undulations of the terrain seemed to be smoothed out.
The dead trees, pebbles, and low slopes along the way were all swallowed up by that overwhelming momentum.
The Gray Fog churned and tore in front of them, only to be pushed aside by the even heavier black tide behind them.
Too fast, and too much.
Castian only needed a few glances to discern the skeleton of this black tide.
Ghoul, Crawling Demon, Bone-Armored Mutant, and even many scattered remnants who had lost their Commander were all driven forward by the Werewolf from behind.
A large number of Werewolf used these low-level Magic Creature as ready-made test cannon fodder, charging towards the newly built defensive line ahead.
Castian's chest sank lower and lower.
This was the first time that Shien's defensive line had truly faced an enemy. What he had originally wanted to see was a controlled test, a clash that would allow everyone to see the true quality of this new defensive line.
But what's pressing in now far exceeds the scope of a mere test.
The design on the Sand Table was fine, and the project was indeed implemented.
With so many Magic Creature pouring in at once, can this newly formed defensive line really hold them off?
Even Castian felt a surge of barely suppressed worry at this moment.
He didn't turn around, but simply raised his hand, signaling the Holy Knight behind him to tighten the reins, ready to take over in the worst-case scenario.
At the forefront of the Black Tide, a terrifyingly large Werewolf leader was running wildly.
Its shoulders and back bulge high, and with each step of its limbs, it can crush a patch of Frozen Tundra.
The first few Ghoul were running a bit slower and blocked its path. Without even pausing, it raised its paws and slapped them.
With a snap, bones shattered, black blood splattered, Ghoul was instantly split in two, its head and spine rolling far away.
The Werewolf leader continued forward, stepping on the splattered blood, his nostrils twitching, his heavy breathing leaving trails of white vapor in the cold wind.
The ball of White-Gold Sacred Flame before it, along with the thick aura of human blood, were all food to it.
It rushed up the cliff, suddenly raised its head, and let out a long howl towards the sky.
The wolf's howl was extremely long, tearing the night wind apart.
The wolves behind them jolted, their eyes quickly turning bloodshot, and their speed increased again.
The low-level Magic Creature that had been driven away were also in disarray, only knowing to surge forward along the heat source in front of them.
--
Looking down from above, the entire black tide pressed down like an avalanche, heading straight for the most open area on the outskirts of Blackpine Fief Territory.
The lowlands on the west side lay there quietly, the surface water shimmering gray, the silt underneath black, and a thin layer of cold mist drifting outwards along the water's surface.
A gust of wind occasionally pierced through the fog, revealing a tiny, almost imperceptible, silvery glint.
The Kuroshio Current has reached the edge.
Without the slightest hesitation, the Werewolf leader at the very front charged straight in with his entire vanguard.
Its front paws slammed down, and the silvery muddy water suddenly erupted in a spray of water.
The next instant, the Ghoul and Lesser Demon at the forefront sank down together.
The ice cracked open, and my feet and calves sank into a layer of black, sticky mud.
What appeared to be just a shallow puddle covered in ice on the surface of that lowland was actually where the real killers were buried.
The discarded Holy Silver Powder was mixed with ice water and rotten mud, and repeatedly stirred into every inch of the silt, chilling to the bone and poisonous to the core.
The first batch of low-level Magic Creature to be affected didn't even take the second step.
The piercing screams drowned out the thunderous roar from behind.
First, a puff of white smoke rose from their calves, followed by the flesh bursting open, and the leg bones crackling and popping under the stimulation of the sacred properties and the icy water.
Thousands of the fastest-charging Magic Creature immediately collapsed and fell forward.
Some were half-buried in the mud, while others tried to crawl forward using their front paws, but their broken leg bones had rotted into blackened fragments.
The more you struggle, the deeper you sink.
Sticky water splashed up from the muddy surface, and the stench of burning flesh mixed with the smell of rotting flesh rose straight up, turning the entire lowland into a deadly zone in the blink of an eye.
The black tide that had been pressing straight down was bitten off by this one bite.
The Ghoul and Lesser Demon behind them continued to surge forward, while the corpses in front had already formed a soft, rotten cushion of flesh.
They stepped on their companions and continued to squeeze in, but the mud beneath their feet became increasingly mushy, and they sank in faster and faster.
In just a few breaths, a thick, shiny black stagnation zone appeared at the western edge of the lowlands.
Broken legs and bones floated everywhere on the water's surface, along with claws that were still twitching.
The Werewolf leader didn't take these low-level cannon fodder seriously at all.
It raised its head, let out a furious growl, and pressed forward, stepping directly on the Ghoul's corpse.
The group of Frenzyblood Werewolf behind them also accelerated, trying to use their explosive power and stomp height to force their way through.
But the moment it tried to exert its strength, its movements suddenly became chaotic.
There were no rocks beneath its feet, nor any hard ground for its muscles and bones to bear weight on.
It's just mud. Sticky, cold, and you sink deeper the more you step on it.
As soon as its massive, barbed claws pressed down, the mud around its ankle tightened abruptly, clamping down like iron pincers.
The Werewolf leader tensed his shoulder and back muscles to their limit, straining his waist and abdomen, trying to use his usual explosive power to propel his body back out, but all his strength slipped away.
Mud and water splashed everywhere, and its sharp claws dug several deep trenches in the ground, but its huge body only managed to inch forward less than half a step.
The Werewolf behind them were the same; the more they exerted themselves, the more they crushed the corpses and mud, resembling a pack of mad beasts trapped in a frozen swamp, full of strength but unable to find a foothold.
Even worse is breathing.
The Holy Silver Powder evaporating from the muddy water, along with their violent panting, poured into their nasal cavities, like red-hot needles piercing their brains.
The Werewolf leader shook his head violently, spitting out two streams of bloody white breath from his nostrils, but his sense of smell was completely distorted.
It could smell the pungent stench of burning, the muddy smell, and the black blood of its own kind, but the few sparks of fire that should have been kept hidden suddenly became blurry and elusive.
The beast's instincts kicked in, and it screamed. The low-lying area beneath its feet was not a hunting ground, but a trap.
At the horse-changing point on the ridge, Karen, the squad leader of the Mobile Holy Knight, gripped the reins tightly.
He fought on the Tear Knight Defense Line for five years. In his experience, facing this kind of black tide that stretches across the horizon, you would need at least five hundred Refined Steel shields and two thousand lives to even have a chance to hold it off.
There weren't even any troops stationed there at first on the western lowlands, and he thought that this area would be the first to be trampled through.
But even now, not a single clash of weapons has been heard in that area.
Only muddy water was swallowing, cold mist was drifting, and the Holy Silver slag was slowly chewing up whatever was rushing in.
Karen stared at the lowlands, her Adam's apple bobbing, a chill creeping down her back.
Because he saw that the massive Beast Tide behind him, which hadn't even stepped into the swamp yet, had already begun to transform itself.
The instinct for survival finally overcame the inertia of the forward momentum.
--
The Magic Creature behind them stopped trying to squeeze to the west and instead instinctively scattered to both sides, only to be gradually forced back by the terrain.
The muddy water on the west side, which could melt your legs, was like an invisible wall, forcibly narrowing the originally wide front that could have stretched for miles.
The first trap that Shien had laid beforehand was now truly showing its teeth.
The lowlands on the west side are not only used to eliminate the vanguard cannon fodder, but also to force the Beast Tide behind them to regroup.
If they don't want to rot and die in the mud, they can only squeeze onto the only dry path on the east side.
The black tide that pressed down across the mountains and plains was indeed molded into a turbid stream, just like in the drawings.
Kuroshio has already fallen into their trap.
Avoiding the Beast Tide in the western swamp, after a brief delay, the entire force veered eastward.
The group of Werewolf at the front that could still run sliced across the ground, engulfing the Ghoul and Lesser Demon behind them, and crashed headlong into the entrance to the Blackiron Canyon.
Their speed and momentum are still there.
But when the terrain truly receded, the entire Kuroshio tide immediately changed its appearance.
On both sides of the canyon mouth, newly blasted rock slopes rise high, their surfaces tapering inwards like an open pocket.
The black Beast Tide, which had previously covered the wasteland and pressed horizontally forward, was squeezed out of shape as soon as it entered this place.
The Magic Creature behind were still pushing forward relentlessly, driven by their berserk instincts, while those in front were completely blocked by the hundred-meter-wide valley, causing their flow to drop sharply.
In the very middle section, Ghoul, Werewolf, and various low-level Mutant were crammed together in layers, writhing forward in a dark mass, all mixed up like a long snake being held from behind.
The originally spread-out surface was gradually narrowed into lines by the terrain.
Looking down from the ridge, the scene even had a somewhat sinister feel to it.
The black tide, several miles wide, continued to pour in from behind, but the canyon entrance could only swallow this narrow passage.
The deeper they went, the more crowded the valley became, with no room for the Magic Creature to even turn around.
One Ghoul fell down, and three more were immediately tripped up and crushed on top of it. The Lesser Demon behind them continued to charge forward, stepping on their backs.
In the middle of the wolf pack, the Werewolf leader responsible for leading the charge became increasingly agitated.
Its specialty is to burst open an opening, then immediately scatter to the left and right, leading the entire pack of Werewolf to surround the prey from both sides and tear it to shreds.
But now, the valley has not only not widened, it has actually narrowed as the man-made cliffs on both sides continue to narrow.
The cannon fodder Magic Creature in front blocked the way like mud, forcing it to slow down time and time again.
The Werewolf behind, unable to stop, kept crashing into its back, making the entire formation increasingly chaotic.
The entire berserk wolf pack was crammed into this bone tube, its speed dropped, and even its most primal coordination was gradually squeezed out.
Finally pushed to the limit, the Werewolf leader whirled around and smashed the head of one of the Werewolf that had charged at him with a single claw.
Black blood splattered on half its face, but the fire in its heart didn't dissipate; instead, it burned even more intensely.
It possessed the strength to smash through city gates, yet here it didn't even have enough space to swing its claws sideways. Every step forward felt like squeezing into a narrow cage made specifically for it.
At the highest observation point along the entire route, Castian looked down at the low-level Magic Creature huddled together at the valley entrance, crossed the congested black tide in the middle section, and pressed his way into the deepest part of the canyon.
That was the end of the entire serpent's path, and also where Shien left the last bit of bait.
The embers of the abandoned Source Furnace were still glowing, but the heat source was very weak, as weak as a candle wick that was about to go out in the cold wind.
Even in the Blood Moon, it was still dazzlingly bright.
The first group of Werewolf and high-level Mutant who had already crawled in had clearly found their way in and were continuing to frantically crawl deeper into the last narrow passage.
Castian watched for a long time, and at this point, he finally stopped doubting.
The massive dark Legion before them, large enough to crush half of the Graymist Defense Zone, had been crushed by the long pipe of Blackiron Canyon into a blind serpent with its head and tail severed.
The scene that Shien had described to him earlier had actually come true.