A flash of eerie blue light made Marba's heart skip a beat.
Demons who primarily cultivate Psionic Energy have exceptionally keen perception in this area. He hadn't sensed any powerful presence in the castle that warranted his attention until just now, when the first fragment of the castle began to move, when he sensed an extraordinary Psionic Energy.
Although that power wasn't strong, it was incredibly refined, purer than any Psionic Energy he had ever seen.
Everything in this world is related to Psionic Energy. Psionic Energy will be tainted by whatever object it comes into contact with. Therefore, before the Demonic Tide invaded this world, Psionic Energy had already been divided into many types.
But at this moment, Marba was absolutely certain that the being standing on the alchemical golem's shoulder was the purest form of Psionic Energy.
"Attack! Attack!"
Marba roared at the top of his lungs, his five left-hand fingers transforming into launchers, firing several shots in quick succession in front of him.
As the most powerful member of the Holy Crusaders, Marba's projectiles naturally possess the strongest penetrating power.
Unlike other Holy Crusaders who can only tickle alchemical golems, Marba's projectiles can inflict significant damage on them.
His projectiles could dent the golem.
Although it was still a bit of a laughing stock, it was much better than his companions. After all, Ed's alchemical golem was covered with runes that were flowing with Psionic Energy, and it would be bad if something went wrong.
Ed glanced at Marba, showing no interest in him, and simply tapped the golem on the head.
A Psionic Energy Circuit was triggered, but the Holy Crusaders, unaware of what was happening, continued firing forward.
A crisp cracking sound echoed through the void, and the next moment, the projectiles, carrying enormous amounts of kinetic energy, all changed their flight paths in mid-air.
A gust of cold wind blew by, and the bullets were instantly blown far away.
A dark brown bullet landed on a player's head. He reached out, grabbed it, and squeezed it hard, his tone instantly turning suspicious:
"This is... a sponge?"
Other players who arrived also picked up the strange-looking projectiles from the ground. Some thought they looked like balls made of wool yarn, while others thought they looked like real foam boards.
But one thing is the same: after that shattering sound, all of these spheres were transformed into other types of matter.
After activating this defense, one of the circuits on the surface of the alchemical golem slowly dimmed.
At this moment, the alchemical golem beneath Ed's feet had been completely transformed.
When he first entered the Shattered Castle, the alchemical golem had already turned into a pile of scrap metal due to the passage of time.
Ed repaired the golem during the attack on the White Wax Town Church. At the time, he was only a Low Tier, so his work was more like removing rust and reassembling the golem than repairing it. The golem's overall combat power did not see a significant improvement.
However, Willow's research recently hit a bottleneck.
It is well known that when research-oriented talents encounter problems in their research, they tend to find related but not entirely related things to consume their excess energy.
Willow searched for a long time inside the castle before finally focusing her attention on the alchemical golem.
After a period of modification, Ed's golem was officially upgraded, and he named it " Willow Seretima 001 ". Unfortunately, this artistic name was not approved by the lich himself.
Ed blocked his advance, while the pursuers drew ever closer. A bead of sweat trickled down Marba's forehead as he issued a new order:
"Attack with all your might, I'll hold off the rear."
As he spoke, he pulled a handful of seeds from the pocket of his battle robe. He held the seeds in his hand and flicked them forward with his thumb, so fast that they almost left a blur.
Seeing this, the pursuing players looked down at their bodies, worried that the bullets, which were so fast they couldn't even catch a glimpse of their afterimages, had already pierced them through.
Although they were quick to pull off their own antics, they were still quite afraid of this visibly powerful opponent—afraid that they would be killed before they could rack up enough points.
They searched their chests and abdomens repeatedly, but didn't see the expected bloody hole. Surely such a powerful fighter couldn't have missed?
But if it wasn't meant to attack me, then what was it for?
The player looked ahead in confusion, only to see Marba planting seeds one by one into the winter soil, and the traces left by those seeds formed a semi-circle that completely enveloped the entrance to the castle.
These seeds, already bewitched by his Demonic Whisper, immediately began to take root and sprout upon contact with the frozen soil, transforming towards the tree wall at an astonishing speed.
The other members of the Tree Worship Church were not too surprised by this technique.
The stronger individuals among the Middle Tier are capable of similar feats; they use their own flesh and blood to nurture the seeds of Aberration plants, thus achieving an instantaneous effect in combat.
As for whether secondary symbiosis will occur, the answer is that as long as those seeds do not germinate on their own, there will be no problem.
Although Marba used demonic techniques, her imitation was so flawless that no one could detect any mistakes.
Ed witnessed this, and seeing that Marba had the power to use it but was unwilling to, Ed felt that Marba was like a drama queen who would clutch his chest and fall to the ground even if he was shot by a finger gun. Ed increasingly felt that this demon had his own set of bottom lines when doing things.
Dozens of Aberration plants grew wildly in the soil, and the fiery Psionic Energy left by Marba helped them thaw the surface soil. Meanwhile, Ed's Root Network beneath the shallow ground was operating at full power every day, so the soil was not frozen too solid to begin with.
In just a few breaths, those Life-Claiming Camphor had grown to the thickness of a bowl, and the gaps between them were getting narrower and narrower, like Venetian blinds that were gradually tightening.
One player quickened his pace and leaped into the fray, entering the battlefield before the camphor trees completely closed in.
He quickly got up from the ground, brushing the dust off his coat as he looked ahead at Marba.
Marba was also looking at this arrogant young man in front of him.
"Whoosh!"
The player flicked his right hand, revealing a palm-sized dagger.
"Whoosh!"
Marba swung his right hand, revealing a straight blade about half a person's length long.
The player glanced at his small dagger, then at the enemy's large cleaver, a somewhat embarrassed expression on his face.
After calming himself down, he took the dagger to his face and licked it with an exaggerated expression:
"This knife of mine is poisoned."
"Oh."
Marba chuckled softly:
"Isn't this just a coincidence?"