Fierce Battle Deep Underground
"How many more such treasure rooms are there in this city?"
This is just an inconspicuous corner of this vast city, but this underground city weaves an orderly energy network throughout the city through powerful and intricate magical circuits, bringing all the Spiritual Qi Spirit Vein within dozens or even hundreds of miles under its control. The magical coins it generates every day are probably far beyond imagination.
How long has this underground city existed?
It must be much older than the Xuanwei Monastery.
Lin Xu's heart skipped a beat.
If before he simply regarded the underground city as an enemy, or as a strategic springboard to achieve his goal of controlling the Daoist temple, now, in his eyes, the city itself has transformed into an unexplored treasure trove of Spirit Vein.
Having calmed his turbulent emotions, he once again directed the Red-Robed Ghost to stealthily advance deeper into the city.
The sturdy magic net trembled slightly, like the strings of an harp being plucked by an invisible hand.
This situation was very unusual, and Lin Xu immediately thought of his previous experience at the guard post.
"Who triggered the underground city's security network?" His first thought was of the three abbots and elders from the Daoist temple whose Soul Leaving the Body and entered the underground city.
Controlling the Red-Robed Ghost to move towards the core of the magical tremor, the ghost stopped after a moment.
The source of the tremor was just tens of meters away. The ghostly creature silently emerged from the ground, its spiritual sense probing forward.
In the dark and deep underground space, streaks of light darted about like fish, moving erratically among the ghostly creatures.
In a split second, a streak of light flashed out, cleaving through the carapace of a Demon Fly with pinpoint accuracy, and a foul-smelling green liquid gushed out.
Taking advantage of that momentary delay, Lin Xu saw the true form of the streak of light—it was a sword entirely silver-white.
A short sword with a few traces of blood on its blade.
Unlike ordinary swords, this short sword has no hilt. It is about a foot long and two fingers wide, with a streamlined, slightly curved blade that tapers into a sharp cone at the end, as if it were born to kill enemies.
"The Blood-Pattern Sword!" Lin Xu was startled.
This is a secret technique passed down from the Xuanwei Monastery Sect, where the sword embryo is tempered with the cultivator's own blood, infused with a spiritual imprint, and forged into a magical sword that resonates with the mind and spirit.
It is also a natal spiritual weapon that only cultivators at the Object Manipulation Realm can wield. Once unleashed, the sword moves at will and can travel several miles in an instant.
The Xuanwei Monastery focuses on incense offerings and humanistic practices, while also excelling in magic and talismans.
Such lineages that excel in killing are extremely rare, not to mention that only cultivators at the Object Manipulation Realm are qualified to cultivate them. Within the entire Daoist temple, only the abbot and two elders are qualified to forge this sword.
At this moment, three Blood-Pattern Sword roamed the depths of the dungeon, slaying enemies with their interwoven sword light like a net, each flash precisely killing a monster.
Whether it was cannon fodder goblins or Irascible Troll, they crumbled like paper before the sword light, not even having time to let out a scream.
Lin Xu spotted the gnolls among them. Just as he had expected, after gaining control of the gnoll camp, the dungeon had also gained the right to recruit gnolls.
The gnoll shaman brandished his bone staff, eerie green flames leaping at its tip. Powerful bolts of lightning crashed down, chasing the afterimage of the Blood-Pattern Sword, but each time they missed by a hair's breadth.
The dark warrior, clad in enchanted armor and a master swordsman, was in a sorry state under the blade. A slight misstep would result in his armor being torn open by the sharp Sword Qi, and blood shooting out.
Wherever the sword light went, the undercurrents dissipated, and even the air seemed to freeze, leaving fine sword marks.
The monsters in the dungeon screamed in agony, retreating, regrouping, and retreating again and again, as if they were facing an army.
Flames, lightning, ice, and storms—powerful spells flickered and exploded in the darkness, chasing the flying sword's trajectory, attempting to strike down this deadly weapon.
However, the Blood-Pattern Sword was as agile as a swallow, deflecting its light at the last second and weaving through dense spells unscathed.
Lin Xu was shocked. This huge underground space was obviously one of the core urban areas of the city. On the surface, a huge magical building was slowly collapsing, and the dome was cracked with spider web-like gaps. Fragments of stone mixed with dark blue magical energy dust fell down.
One or two hundred monsters charged futilely at the flying sword, only to be shredded by the sword light one after another, like moths drawn to a flame.
Despite having the upper hand and outnumbering the enemy, the battlefield presented a one-sided situation.
"Where is the dungeon lord?" Lin Xu snapped out of his daze from the fierce battle and carefully guided the ghost to the edge of the battlefield.
There's no need to worry about magical alarms here; in fact, the shrill alarms throughout the cave have long been drowned out by the sounds of swords and explosions.
After searching for a while, he finally stopped his futile efforts.
The city lord was not on the battlefield; the lord was like a god in his own territory, able to observe the entire territory from any position. The enemy could be hiding somewhere, commanding the monsters to charge at the flying sword time and time again.
This may explain why these monsters, despite being defeated, are always able to regroup and launch a counterattack in a short period of time.
"Huh?"
In the shared vision of the ghosts, a goblin-like shadow darted across the battlefield, dragging a goblin that had been fatally wounded by a flying sword, and sped toward a dark corner.
The imps in the underground city are the basic units of life, similar to the villagers of the Xuanwei Monastery. They do many of the most basic jobs, small but indispensable.
Lin Xu thought for a moment, then directed the Red-Robed Ghost to quietly follow.
Winding deeper into the dark passage, the heavily wounded goblin left a trail of dark red blood on the magical floor, leading towards a magical building.
It was a monster's lair, with six-square-meter units, and beds of all shapes and sizes arranged haphazardly.
Name: Lounge Level: Level 1 Building (Upgradeable)
Affiliation: Gray Rock Dungeon Range: 6 square meters Effect: +1000% Recovery, +1 Health per second, +1 Mana per second, [Constant Recovery] Units in the rest area will not die from previous injuries. Description: In this humble nest, the hope of rebirth is nurtured. The bloodstains stopped abruptly at the threshold, and the heavily wounded goblin was already fast asleep on a bed covered with dry grass.
A strange, magical glow flowed slowly through the goblin's wounds, seeping into its flesh like liquid moonlight, causing the torn wounds to close and scab over at a visible speed.
"What a powerful recovery effect!" Lin Xu exclaimed.
Only then did he suddenly realize that the monsters torn apart by the sword light on the battlefield, no matter how badly injured, had never truly died—a strange power had protected their lives at the last moment.
If rescued in time, these monsters will soon be able to be reborn in the rest area.
On the bed, a goblin rubbed its eyes, just waking up from its slumber, and then rolled over and got up.
It muttered something as it left the bed and went to another small cave not far away.