After passing through the dead zone, a breathtaking sight unfolded before them. At the end of the pathy an enormous circr tform constructed from white stone.
The tform floated above the waters of the Vitalis Pool. It was surrounded by swirling clouds and mist, with spiritual energy condensing in the air like rain. At its center was a spring no more than ten feet wide.
What flowed from this spring was not ordinaryke water, but concentrated spiritual liquid so rich it couldn’t dissolve and shimmered with seven-colored radiance. It turned out this was the source of the pure vitality and spiritual energy.
The moment they crossed through the Chaos Realm and stepped onto the tform, the pure spiritual energy brought no relief. Instead, a pressure heavier and more terrifying than Thymaleon’s, or the chaoticws themselves, pressed down on them like a mountain.
At the center of the tform, the spring still shimmered with seven-colored spiritual liquid. Above it, the seal’s crack hung open like a bleeding wound with crimson malevolent energy dripping in thin streams. Between the spring and the crack stood a towering figure.
He wore a dark battle robe embroidered with faint gold, and his frame was as imposing as a mountain. His mere presence felt like the immovable pir anchoring the core of the Vitalis Pool, like a demon guarding the gates of hell itself.
His face was stern and handsome. But within those profound eyesy an unyielding coldness and an absolute indifference that viewed all living beings as insects.
He was Malthor, chief of the Elysium Isle guardians.
His gaze swept over the battered group, taking in their exhaustion and nearly depleted internal energy. It lingered briefly on the faint royal providence surrounding Grace with a trace of barely perceptible disgust before settling on Dustin like a predator locking onto its prey.
“This is no ce for vermin like you,” Malthor said.
His voice was calm and low, yet it carried a strange resonance from thews of the universe. Every word struck their minds like a hammer, rattling their very souls.
Rhydian and the two guards groaned as blood trickled from the corners of their mouths, their knees threatening to buckle.
Grace and Judith trembled as their faces drained of color.
Only Dustin remained unshaken, standing tall like a pine tree. It was the invisible sword aura flowing around him that quietly pushed back that terrifying pressure.
He met Malthor’s gaze, calm and unflinching. “Is Elysium Isle your private property? We came only to seize the one chance to save a life that hangs in the bnce. We mean no disrespect.”
“Save a life?” Malthor sneered. “Set foot here, and you walk straight into death. Your flesh and souls exist only to fuel the revival of the Dragon Lord. That alone is the greatest honor you insects could hope for.”
He didn’t give Grace a chance to plead, as if their purpose and their struggle meant nothing to him.
His gaze fixed on Dustin as he added, ” Especially you. Your body and your soul possess considerable power. You’ll be the perfect candidate for a puppet vessel. Once refined, you will be a formidable Dragon Puppet warrior.”
Malthor remained perfectly still. He raised his left hand casually, fingers flicking as if plucking invisible strings, and quickly formed an ancient, unsettling hand seal in the air.
As soon as the seal was formed, the dense, almost imprable spiritual energy around the spring erupted, mixing with the dragon blood malevolent energy. They twisted and surged together, boiling violently.
A low, throbbing hum rolled through the air, and the very space itself seemed to groan under the strain.
Four crimson pirs of light, mixed with seven-colored spiritual liquid, shot skyward from around the spring. Within each pir, a humanoid silhouette slowly condensed and took form before crashing down to the ground, blocking the path between Dustin’s group and Malthor
Four humanoid puppets stood before them. Their height matched that of ordinary people, and their bodies disyed a dull metallic luster. Yet their surfaces were covered with crimson patterns that pulsed and flowed like the veins of living beings.
Their heads were smooth, featureless, with only two flickering points of scarlet light for eyes that radiated violent, destructive intent.
A heavy, deathly energy wave radiated from them,ced with the dragon blood malevolent energy, and the strange, pulsating vitality of the Vitalis Pool. The mixture of energies created an extremely contradictory and terrifying presence.
Their razor-sharp ws gleamed with a predatory, metallic coldness, and each puppet emitted energy fluctuations no weaker than Thymaleon after he had consumed the Dragonblood Renewal Pill.
Moreover, their energy waves shared the same source and resonated with one another. It was vaguely forming a killing formation thatpletely sealed off every escape route for Dustin and the others.
“These are my Dragonblood Battle Puppets, refined from the corpses of fallen cultivators, supplemented with dragon blood malevolent energy and Vitalis Pool spiritual liquid,” Malthor said, his voice cold and t, as if introducing several insignificant creations.
He added, “They possess an undying will to fight and a portion of the power granted by the Void-Tyrant Dragon.”
He looked down upon Grace and the others, whose expressions had now paled. His gaze finally settled on Dustin, with detached indifference, as if granting a favor.
“Should you manage to defeat them…” he said, “You might just earn a sliver of a chance to glimpse the true secret of immortality that lies within Elysium Isle.”
With that, Malthor’s figure, along with the crushing pressure that apanied him, dissolved like a mirage.
In a sh of dark golden light, he shot toward the central seal on the tform and vanished into the seal’s crack, as if he were never there. His departure was even more abrupt and unsettling than his arrival.
The four Dragonblood Battle Puppets he left behind had their scarlet eyes fixed on Dustin like a predator. A tidal wave of palpable, violent intent crashed down, inundating the entire stone tform.