Chapter 1363
The Mana Tempest effortlessly shredded his magical defenses. The storm swept through the Bloodline Warlock’s body like a hurricane, his agonized screams echoing uselessly. In that single second, it was as if his flesh endured millennia of decay—his mana and moisture stripped away by the raging tempest, leaving him dry and brittle. At last, he exploded into countless fragments, like a sand sculpture scattered by a furious wind.
In just one second, a Sky Rank Bloodline Warlock was annihilated, his body ground to dust by the Mana Tempest and his power swept into the destructive chaos. Seven or eight tunnels in the cavern simultaneously erupted with these devastating storms.
Brilliantly colored Mana Tempests erupted like fountains from the narrow openings, pulverizing everything in their path—whether solid stone walls or exposed Mana Crystal Ore. When the crystals shattered, their stable mana instantly turned wild, joining the chaos of the storm.
In less than two seconds, chaotic Mana Tempests filled the entire cavern. The Thorned Crown elites braced their shields, but each shield melted away like ice under a blazing sun.
Maxwell’s crystal eyes flashed as he summoned a crystal shield, instantly finding a way to evade the storm.
“Everyone, get to that corner! George, hurry—control the stone wall and let us take cover!”
Maxwell turned his shield into a passage, and in half a second, the group dashed through to a safe corner of the cavern, far from the initial impact of the mana fountains. Here, the storm’s trajectory was weakest.
Maxwell spotted the safe corner first and led the group there without hesitation. George activated his bloodline power, causing the stone wall to recess and form a protective membrane. The group huddled inside as the Mana Tempest outside grew even fiercer, shattering all exposed Mana Crystal Ore and intensifying the chaos.
Five seconds later, George’s face turned pale, then flushed crimson. The air filled with the metallic scent of blood as it trickled from his nose, purple-blue veins writhing beneath his skin. Though George’s power grew stronger, the chaos within him surged.
“Dolores!”
Maxwell shouted, and another Bloodline Warlock stepped to the stone-blue membrane, extending both hands. A curtain of water spread from his palms, adhering to the shimmering barrier.
Immediately, George relinquished control of the stone-blue membrane. His face, once flushed as if bleeding, gradually returned to normal before turning deathly pale. Within seconds, his strength reached its limit; his bloodline began to boil, pushing for more power. But when the power grew too strong, control slipped away, and the only outcome was self-destruction.
George collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. With the last of his strength, he deepened the recess in the stone, making the entrance even smaller to buy more time for the others. After all, his power was best at manipulating stone—more suited for camouflage than defense. He transformed the area into a small cave with a narrow opening, giving the others a longer window of protection.
Outside the cave, the chaotic Mana Tempest continued to rage. After filling the vast cavern, the terrifying storm began to spill into other tunnels. Even with an outlet for its fury, the lingering tempest in this chamber remained deadly.
In less than a minute, another Heaven-tier elite stepped up to take over the defense, but he too faltered. Sheldon strode to the now two-meter-wide entrance, thick black smoke billowing around him, morphing into snarling demonic heads. Each head bit the next, forming a pitch-black wall that blocked the doorway, holding back the raging Mana Tempest outside.
Three minutes later, even Sheldon couldn’t hold out any longer, and the defenders had to rotate yet again…
After half a rotation, everyone was spent. This pure mana confrontation exposed their greatest weakness, triggering bloodline instability more easily than direct combat ever could.
Everyone around had to rest, leaving only Maxwell with enough strength to continue. His expression grim, Maxwell silently stepped forward to take over the defense.
Though the Mana Tempest outside had weakened, it still raged on. If Maxwell reached his limit and the storm remained this strong, everyone here would die.
Staring at the swirling, rainbow-hued Mana Tempest outside the cave entrance, Maxwell’s gaze grew complicated. Silently, he moved to the edge, pressing his palm against the wall. Instantly, a layer of crystal spread from his hand, rapidly forming a crystalline barrier to block the opening. The exhausted Bloodline Warlock who’d been defending collapsed to the ground, trembling and gasping for breath.
Maxwell’s power was the strongest here—and their last hope.
The crystalline curtain blocked the entrance as the destructive Mana Tempest battered its surface. The storm, like a gentle band of colored light, caressed the crystal, yet each pass shaved away a quarter of its thickness. Maxwell poured more power into the barrier, locked in a relentless war of attrition.
After more than twenty minutes, Maxwell’s complexion paled, and the light in his crystal eyes flickered erratically. The mana drain was intense, but for a level-five Sky Rank mage, it wasn’t yet overwhelming.
But this war of attrition drew on bloodline power, a burden for transplanted bloodline warlocks whose bloodlines were never truly perfect.
If this continued, his bloodline would destabilize, and the result would be no different than the others—his mana would remain, but his bloodline would boil over.
Outside, the Mana Tempest had weakened, but not enough for the others to withstand. A trace of despair flickered in Maxwell’s eyes as he fought on, while the rest could no longer conceal their hopelessness.
“We’re going to die here. That monster Marfa Merlin warned us about must have awakened…”
A transplanted Bloodline Warlock muttered in despair, while the others watched Maxwell in silence, their hope fading.
“When these terrifying Mana Tempests first appeared, I sensed hellish energy within them. That’s Sonia’s doing, that damned lunatic—she must have summoned a demon lord. If not for that, Marfa Merlin’s monster wouldn’t have awakened…”
“That wretched lunatic—she must be dead by now. And she’s dragging us to the grave with her…”
“Marfa Merlin’s probably dead too. He got farther than us, closer to the source of these storms. It’s all Sonia’s fault—she refused to listen and unleashed some terrible power underground…”
Suddenly, everyone found a target for their anger and began cursing Sonia. But deep down, they all knew—no one could survive this kind of power. A lone transplanted Bloodline Warlock wouldn’t last a second here.
Just pure mana alone could unleash such a catastrophic storm, far beyond the effects of any spell. To wield this kind of power, it had to be at least a level forty-nine monster—and one of the stronger ones at that.
They cursed Sonia to stave off their fear of death. Maxwell said nothing, his gaze fixed on the crystal curtain. What had once been a meter thick now barely held at half a meter. Each second, nearly half a meter of crystal was eaten away by the Mana Tempest, and Maxwell had to replenish it just as quickly to keep the barrier from being torn apart.
His bloodline began to change, to boil. Maxwell’s eyes twitched uncontrollably, pain radiating from his sockets, and a creeping sense of despair began to take hold.
It’s over. Completely over. There’s no time left. My eyes ache, their connection to my body faltering. My bloodline’s boiling—at most ten minutes before it collapses completely. Even if the others recover, together we might last three more minutes, tops.
Outside, the Mana Tempest kept weakening, but at this rate, it’d be twenty minutes before it was manageable. In three minutes, though, we’d all be shredded to pieces. Even I won’t last that long.
What kind of monster sleeps beneath the earth, that its mana alone can wield such power? Has it reached level fifty? Even most level forty-nine beasts couldn’t spread mana this far, or with such force.
Can Marfa Merlin even be alive in the face of this horror? He’s studied this plane so deeply—surely he prepared for something like this? But in the end, no one can survive this…
No, Marfa Merlin must still be alive—he has to be. But how did he survive this disaster? How did he manage it…?
Maxwell’s thoughts began to scatter, drifting to Lin Yun. But a sudden stab of pain shattered his focus—the crystal eye in his left socket twitched violently, blood streaming down his face as if the skin around his eye had been ripped apart.
A flicker of agony crossed Maxwell’s face as he clutched his left eye, desperate to control his boiling bloodline and keep the crystal orb from bursting out.
Within seconds, Maxwell’s left hand was soaked with blood, the pain pounding through his head and soul.
Gritting his teeth, Maxwell coated his left hand in crystal, shaping it into a strange spoon. With grim resolve, he gouged out his own left eye—not a human eye, but a perfect sphere of crystal, slick with blood and glowing faintly.
The moment he removed the crystal eye, Maxwell felt his boiling bloodline calm, the violent reaction subsiding.
It had been years since Maxwell fought so fiercely, or suffered such severe bloodline backlash. He hadn’t known that removing a transplanted crystal eye could ease the reaction and the boiling within his veins.
[Irrelevant passage skipped: This is a chapter transition notice, not part of the novel's narrative.]
Staring at the crystal eye in his palm, Maxwell froze as Lin Yun’s words echoed in his mind—a comment he’d barely registered at the time…
Damn it, how could I forget? Marfa Merlin’s research into bloodline transplantation runs deep. That thing he said at the start—it wasn’t just idle talk, it might have been real…
How could I forget? Maybe having two crystal eyes was a failed transplant for me. Was Marfa Merlin right—was one eye actually better, more suitable?
But he only glanced at it, didn’t even study it. How could he be so sure? Wasn’t it just a wild guess, or something he said offhand?
Clutching the crystal eye, Maxwell’s mind was a chaotic mess. His bloodline stabilized a bit, and supporting the crystal curtain became a little easier—but it still wasn’t enough to meet the minimum threshold.
Two minutes later, Maxwell’s expression grew complicated. Gritting his teeth, he used the spoon-shaped crystal once more, gouging out the transplanted crystal eye from his right socket.
In an instant, both his eye sockets were left as bloody black holes. The two crystal eyes hovered before him, their flickering halos slowly synchronizing, as if they shared a deep connection.
For a Sky Rank mage, vision isn’t limited to eyes—mages trust their mana. As a fifth-level Sky Rank, Maxwell could function just fine without sight.
Feeling the resonance between the two crystal eyes, Maxwell’s expression grew even more complex. Removing the second eye weakened his bloodline’s power, but made it more stable.
After a few seconds of silence, Maxwell summoned a ball of mana in his hand, enveloping both crystal eyes. Mana and bloodline power fused the two together—no shattering, no unexpected change.
The two crystal eyes melted into one, merging without guidance. Mana served as a cradle, bloodline as a catalyst, and the fusion happened naturally.
Surprisingly easy—within half a minute, the two crystal eyes vanished, replaced by a single orb that looked just like a real eye.
The new orb was still crystalline, but now it had a distinct sclera and iris—a six-pointed star for a pupil, radiating a stable energy.
Maxwell’s expression shifted as he stared at the new crystal eye, finally placing it into his right socket.
Instantly, bloodline power surged through the eye and circulated within Maxwell. The once unstable bloodline calmed in a heartbeat. The six-pointed star pupil rotated slowly, and instinctively, Maxwell understood how to control his bloodline and blend it with mana.
In less than three seconds, Maxwell’s boiling bloodline stabilized, nearly back to normal—he could easily hold out for another half hour, without the slightest discomfort.
Missing one eye, but with the new one, his vision was stronger and clearer than ever. He could see mana flows, air currents—everything in vibrant detail, as if the world had shifted from monochrome to color.
Maxwell stood in a daze for half an hour, supporting the crystal curtain even as the Mana Tempest outside weakened to a level easily resisted.
“Lord Maxwell, the Mana Tempest outside has weakened considerably…”
A voice sounded in Maxwell’s ear, jolting him from his trance. With a twitch of his arm, the crystal curtain shattered, and the wind that rushed in was no longer dangerous—just a normal gale, easily resisted by anyone present with a touch of mana.
Ignoring the others, Maxwell conjured a crystal mirror before him. Staring at his reflection—the six-pointed star pupil—his hands trembled.
“So simple… It really was this easy. Just one—just one eye is enough…”
Maxwell muttered like a man possessed, struggling to accept the reality—even though it was an improvement. In that moment of crisis, he’d acted on a whim, never expecting such a powerful result.