Chapter 1201
A desert demon of level thirty-something, facing a sentient magical artifact avatar—especially one wielding a top-tier True Spirit artifact in its magic-boosted state—would be wise to keep their mouth shut and pretend they heard nothing, unless they're a complete idiot.
Anderson mocked Sterlin for a while before growing bored; Sterlin was as unresponsive as a deaf mute, showing no reaction at all.
Sterlin obediently shrank to his smallest form and stayed nearby, quietly waiting for Leon to incinerate the desert.
As time passed, Sterlin finally understood: within the scorched, molten desert, chunks of dark gold metal were mixed in.
With time, the magma dwindled while the dark gold metal grew more abundant.
At last, Sterlin realized what Leon was doing—refining metal, treating the desert’s central kilometers as a giant mine and extracting all the metal in one go.
Understanding this, Sterlin felt more and more that his decision to rush out was the wisest he’d ever made.
Damn it, Matthew Merlin didn’t come here just to kill me. In his eyes, I probably wasn’t even worth the trouble of dealing with personally.
Just look at that extraordinary artifact—the flames it releases cover several kilometers. Even a typical Sky Rank fire mage couldn’t match this power. The fire pouring out from that blazing gate seems endless.
If Matthew Merlin can bring his own artifact, he surely has a way to take all this refined magical metal with him.
In the Abyss, we never bother with rare resources we can’t take with us, but Matthew Merlin is different. This dark gold metal must be extremely valuable—I swear I’ve seen it somewhere before.
Forget it, whatever. If I get burned to death by accident, that would be the stupidest way to go. Dubois Charles, that idiot, still thinks he can take on Matthew Merlin.
He’s only survived this long by sheer luck—almost killed Matthew Merlin and still managed to live.
Matthew Merlin didn’t come after him for revenge; he should be grateful for fate’s mercy, yet he still tries to plot against Matthew Merlin.
Foolish creature—no wonder he ended up as a mount for those filthy demons. He’s stupid to the bone; his brains must’ve been melted away by all that magma in his skull.
Hmph, just wait for death, idiot. Two demon lords are nothing—Merlin already has a top-tier True Spirit artifact and an extraordinary magical relic. Who knows what else Matthew Merlin has up his sleeve?
If he brings out one more ace, those two bewitched demon lords and Dubois Charles are doomed to a miserable death.
After three days, with torrents of terrifying flame pouring from the Spellbook of Ages, the desert’s center—spanning two or three kilometers—had been burned into a massive pit.
At the pit’s edge, the melted sand had solidified into glass walls seven or eight meters thick. From above, it looked like a colossal glass cup—two or three kilometers in diameter—had appeared in the heart of the desert.
The pit was four or five hundred meters deep, everything inside burned to nothingness—except for chunks of Eternal Dark Gold scattered at the bottom.
Leon floated down to the pit’s bottom, opened a channel to his demi-plane, and summoned a team of alchemical golems to haul the refined Eternal Dark Gold into storage.
A few minutes later, Leon returned to the desert’s surface—Sterlin was still obediently waiting there.
"Counting today, when the Crimson Sun disappears from the sky for the thirteenth time, those two demon lords will attack your territory simultaneously."
When Leon approached, Sterlin hurried to deliver the news.
Leon stared at Sterlin, who immediately began to sweat nervously. After a good ten seconds, Leon finally spoke.
"There are plenty of gravel-like ores mixed in with the sand here. Can you sort them out and toss them into this pit?"
Sterlin let out a sigh of relief at those words and nodded quickly.
"No problem. Desert demons are best at this sort of thing. There are plenty of abyssal creatures here too—they’re all skilled at burrowing through sand. This’ll be easy."
Leon nodded, then turned and left with Anderson and Theo.
Sterlin’s appearance had been unexpected, and Leon was a bit surprised by what he’d said—but not especially concerned.
It was Sterlin’s fate that became the real question. The guy had always held a grudge, but now, for whatever reason, he’d switched sides completely—even selling out Dubois Charles without hesitation.
After a moment’s thought, Leon understood: for someone as arrogant as Dubois Charles, being made a mount by a demon in the Abyss was a stain he’d never wash away. He’d never lift his head again.
No wonder the other Sky Rank powerhouses would laugh themselves to death...
Since Sterlin knew about this, once the plot was done, he’d be eliminated for sure.
Now that Leon’s artifact had appeared in the Abyss, Sterlin had totally defected. Revenge? What a joke...
The guy surrendered, but Leon couldn’t take him along—if he did, Dubois Charles would get suspicious. In the Abyss, those dim-witted creatures have no concept of secrecy.
Then it hit him—Sterlin used to be a mage of Dunespire Tower, now a desert demon, and he controls all the abyssal creatures here.
He’s the perfect miner—let him lead the desert’s abyssal creatures, dig up ores, gather every grain of mineral sand, and dump it all in the central pit. Leon could just come collect it later.
As for whether Sterlin would sell him out, Leon couldn’t care less...
This is the Abyss—before reaching level forty, escape is impossible. If Sterlin betrays him, he’ll just have to wash his neck and wait for death.
Clearly, Sterlin isn’t the kind to risk his own life for Dubois Charles…
Back at his territory, Leon began pondering how to deal with the two demon lords.
Sky Rank demon lords are beyond his current strength. As a level 38 Pureblood Flame Demon, his bloodline might count as silver-tier, but it’s nowhere near enough to take down two demon lords.
After some thought, Leon quietly appeared at the junction of three territories—a former battlefield littered with countless bones, the flesh long since devoured by greedy abyssal creatures. The earth was stained dark red, and the air reeked of blood.
Walking across the silent battlefield, Leon’s step left a charred mark on the ground. Black smoke rose from it as the mark transformed into an abyssal rune, merging with the earth.
Leon sped around the battlefield, leaving behind a swath of charred runes. Black smoke curled from them, forming a massive alchemical array—though it was actually just a simple guiding array.
This was a new method Leon had developed using his Pureblood Flame Demon identity—no more writing runes with a quill. Even ordinary steel would melt to slag in his grasp.
Condensing runes beneath his feet and stamping them into the earth was the fastest way.
After circling the six or seven-kilometer battlefield, the charred runes slowly merged into the earth, leaving the field looking unchanged from before.
Leaving the battlefield, Leon returned to the Steel Fortress and downed dozens of bottles of the purest Mana Elixir. Using his Abyssal Maggot traits, he quickly reached level thirty-nine—at which point the Pureblood Flame Demon’s bloodline limit began to show.
An adult Pureblood Flame Demon tops out at level thirty-nine. Breaking through to forty and gaining extraordinary power would require long-term accumulation and insight.
Of course, for demons, insight doesn’t exist—it’s all about war, battle, slaughter. Only through killing and fighting can they hope to advance.
Without much thought, Leon began his transformation again. A pitch-black shell formed, covered in even denser abyssal runes than before—each rune’s surface seemed to turn dark gold.
The Pureblood Flame Demon’s aura gradually faded, replaced by an even stronger bloodline presence…
Leon poured vast amounts of Mana Elixir into a pool, letting the cocoon soak and devour it—accelerating the transformation by countless times.
Ten days passed. Dubois Charles sent a smaller Thunderwing Bird to the Mad Desert.
"Desert demon, when the Crimson Sun disappears two more times, we launch our attack. Your job is to stop that damned Pureblood Flame Demon—fail, and our lord’s wrath will be upon you!"
The arrogant Thunderwing Bird dropped its message and flew off, ignoring Sterlin entirely.
Sterlin stood on the ground, face dark, the swirling sand in his hand slowly dissipating as he abandoned the idea of killing the Thunderwing Bird outright.
Damn Dubois, as a demon's mount, he actually dares not to deliver the message himself, sending a brainless Abyssal creature to humiliate me instead?
Shit, good thing I've already met Matthew Merlin. These past few days, Matthew Merlin hasn't made any moves. He knows about this and can't possibly pretend he doesn't. Arrogant demon lords, idiotic Dubois, you'll pay a heavy price for this.
Is Matthew Merlin really someone you can mess with?
That unfathomable guy—his soul entered the Abyss, yet he can still summon his own magical artifact. It’s like seeing a ghost. And his strength isn’t just about spellcasting; he might suddenly summon an entire legion.
No, if Matthew Merlin suddenly summons a Heaven-tier powerhouse, I wouldn’t even be surprised...
I’d better just quietly help Matthew Merlin collect ore here. I have no idea what he wants with these ores, and when our souls return, not a single stone can be taken out. Whatever, as long as I don’t provoke Matthew Merlin, their war has nothing to do with me...
On the other side, in the territory of the Purple-Eyed Demon Overlord, Dubois flapped his wings, loudly singing praises.
“Great Lord, that foolish Pureblood Hellfire Demon is definitely doomed this time. We've gathered an army of over four hundred thousand. Aside from our invincible Lord, we now have more than forty demons above level thirty-five.
The Hellfire Demon's schemes are fated to be destroyed by the Lord's hand. That foolish Shadow Demon may be powerful, but once victory is ours, even that idiot’s territory will belong to our Lord.
Who knows, maybe soon our Lord will advance to Black Iron Overlord. Once the Hellfire Demon’s schemes are crushed, I’m sure the great Grand Overlord will awaken and praise your achievements.”
Dubois has more or less gotten used to being an Abyssal creature, spitting out demon-tongued flattery nonstop. The subtle enthralling power hidden in his words made the Purple-Eyed Demon, whose eyes burned with violet flames, grin from ear to ear.
Those uncultured demons wouldn’t know the first thing about flattery. Even the ones who can manage some crude, vulgar praise are considered the smarter ones.
Dubois kept switching up his compliments, and now he’d become the most favored underling of the Purple-Eyed Demon Overlord—even if he was still just a mount...
The armies marched, and crazed Abyssal creatures surged toward the battlefield at the junction of three territories. This is the law of demon warfare: territory must be seized bit by bit.
This rule inevitably means casualties for the Abyssal creatures will be even more disastrous. But those eternally unextinguishable fools—so numerous they become burdensome cannon fodder—no demon lord ever cares how many die.
On the contrary, the vast number of souls produced are exactly what the demon lords need for sacrificial tribute to stronger overlords.
If it’s an Abyssal Demon King, one with a particular craving for souls, their thirst for war is even more intense. Every Demon King’s territory is perpetually at war; even in slumber, the wars between territories never cease.
Dubois soared high above, coldly eyeing the distant battlefield brimming with murderous intent, the corners of his mouth curled in a cold smile.
Matthew Merlin, let’s see what you do now, you fool. Two demon lords—no matter what tricks you have, you’re destined to be torn apart, your soul forever trapped in the Abyss.
Damn bastard, last time you just got lucky. Let’s see if fate favors you again. This time you must die—I want to watch you perish with my own eyes.
On the vast, bloody battlefield, armies of Abyssal creatures charged in from three directions, converging into a force of well over a million.
According to the rules of Abyssal warfare, battles like this must take place in the region where the three territories meet. For Lin Yun and the other two demon lords, this blood-soaked battlefield is the only place their territories connect.
The Abyssal armies stormed into the battlefield, plunging it into chaotic slaughter. The Abyssal battlefield, this meat grinder of life, started its work again—every second, hundreds of Abyssal creatures died here.
The bodies of the dead Abyssal creatures were mostly torn to shreds, their blood soaking the earth and seeping down below.
Deep underground, a circle of Abyssal runes, drenched in blood, began to glow one by one, drawing the blood from the surface down into the earth.
The souls of the fallen Abyssal creatures were also dragged below, a faint black-red mist rising over the battlefield, driving the already frenzied Abyssal beasts even madder.
In a single day, two or three hundred thousand Abyssal creatures were lost to this blood-soaked battlefield, with a constant stream of fresh reinforcements pouring in from behind.
After three days, the combined casualties from all three territories exceeded a million Abyssal creatures.
The blood, life, and souls of those creatures were all dragged underground. Three hundred and thirty meters below, an altar made of bloodstained white bones appeared.
Each bone in the altar came from a different life, and every one was marked by the anguished, howling soul of an Abyssal creature.
Above the altar, blood and souls rained down from above, pouring into its depths.
Abyssal sacrifice—and this was a particularly massive one...
Too bad no one knew there was a sacrificial altar hidden beneath the blood-soaked battlefield.
Three days later, powerful demons began to join the fray, and the war grew even more brutal. Abyssal creatures below level thirty were reduced to pure cannon fodder; only demons and creatures above level thirty-five mattered now.
As stronger demons fell, their blood, life, and souls were fed into the sacrificial altar beneath the battlefield, speeding up the ritual.
A vague, terrifying shadow began to appear above the altar. As it emerged, the bloodstained bones stopped trembling, and the souls trapped inside fell silent, as if cowed by fear.
For three days straight, Lin Yun never appeared on the battlefield, and the two demon lords waiting at the edge grew increasingly impatient.
Dubois was even more anxious. According to Abyssal warfare rules, the weakest are sent in first, then gradually stronger ones, and finally, when all have entered, it’s time for the demon lords themselves to take the field.
Yesterday should have been the day for the demon lords to enter the battlefield, but Lin Yun was still nowhere to be seen...
Dubois circled in the sky, even breaking the rules to fly into Lin Yun’s territory to investigate, but still couldn’t find any trace of him.
Damn bastard, Matthew Merlin actually ran away. Shit, he just abandoned his territory and fled.
Miscalculation—I forgot, he’s not a real demon. He doesn’t care about demon rules. What do we do if he escapes?
Damn it, those two arrogant, foolish demon lords would never break the Abyssal war rules. They’d never abandon the battlefield to chase Matthew Merlin into his territory. They have to wait for victory and invade bit by bit.
No, I can’t wait any longer. If I do, Matthew Merlin might escape for good.
Dubois hurried to the battlefield and immediately found the Purple-Eyed Demon.