The bombardment of the Wind Gun and the burning of the Flame of the Cauldron brought a momentary silence to the chaotic battlefield. Neither Derby nor the Elite Bloodthirsters dared to make a move, and Palmer and Bologue didn't launch another attack.

Both sides maintained a delicate balance. In the ruins, Vasilina and Zefirin were the only ones still moving, each running towards their respective camps. They didn't even glance at each other or make any attempt to attack as they crossed paths.

Vasilina retreated to a safe zone, and Palmer rushed in with the wind, crashing in clumsily and rolling a few times. Zefirin's poison continued to affect Palmer, limiting him to using simple attack methods like the Wind Gun.

Upon seeing Vasilina unharmed, a slight joy flashed across Palmer's face. Before Palmer could say anything, Vasilina greeted him with a head-on embrace. Without slowing down, they collided and rolled on the ground several times before stopping.

Palmer was somewhat dazed from the collision, and the consciousness he had just regained almost faded again. Vasilina noticed Palmer's condition; his face looked terrible, and he had an injury on his abdomen.

"What happened?"

Faced with Vasilina's inquiry, Palmer lifted his hand with difficulty and pointed at Zefirin, who had merged with Derby, with words filled with hatred, "That bastard..."

The brief encounter between Palmer and Zefirin had been the worst nightmare in recent memory.

Vasilina turned her head to look at Zefirin. Compared to Palmer, Zefirin's condition was even more disheveled.

Zefirin thought he could silently elude the pursuit of the two by relying on Ethereal Concealment, but under Bologue's wide-ranging Command, Zefirin was quickly discovered in such a crude manner.

What followed was a childish game of cat and mouse, with Zefirin fleeing in front and the two pursuing behind, occasionally launching attacks as if urging Zefirin along, toying with him.

Normally, this would be fine, but during his recovery, Palmer had unearthed a batch of Silverware and handed it over to Bologue for Command. These metal materials were forged into a series of lethal weapons under the Flame of the Cauldron.

The majority of the wounds on Zefirin's body were inflicted by the Silverware, making them difficult to heal.

"Help me..."

Zefirin gasped painfully. Although most of the Silver wounds were superficial, the torment from the Silver incessantly plagued Zefirin's nerves.

Derby realized the severity of the situation and decisively extended his hand, with pale skin and visible blue veins beneath.

Zefirin bit into Derby's wrist, extracting blood from Derby's body. Relying on the blood of a High Tier Night Race, Zefirin accelerated his body's recovery and struggled to resist the effects of the Silverware.

Releasing his bite, Zefirin exhaled deeply, his face stained with a large blot of blood, resembling a beast that had just feasted.

Being drained of one's blood was not a pleasant feeling, but in light of the current battle, Derby had no other options.

"Is it that person?"

Vasilina stared at Zefirin, clenching her fists, eager to try.

Palmer grabbed her and asked, "Are you okay?"

"I... I'm fine, just some scrapes."

Hearing this, Palmer noticed the blue halo in Vasilina's eyes. In the next second, the blue halo vanished, and a familiar figure appeared behind Vasilina.

"Thanks, Aimou."

Palmer gave Aimou a thumbs-up. Aimou didn't respond verbally but returned the gesture with a thumbs-up in reply.

Palmer requested Vasilina, "Help me up."

After being freed from Zefirin's Secret Energy influence, Palmer first regained his Rectangular Soul Critical. Ether once again filled his body, but the toxic physical injuries took a long time to heal. Throughout, he relied on the support of the fierce wind.

Vasilina nodded and easily hoisted Palmer onto her shoulder. For Vasilina, Palmer's weight was no burden at all.

"Wrong! Wrong! Turn around!"

Palmer tapped Vasilina's back repeatedly. This manner seemed like she was going to carry him away.

"Oh."

Vasilina adjusted and cradled Palmer instead. Palmer's expression was somewhat complex, and he persuaded, "Just help me a little."

Palmer struggled out of Vasilina's embrace, propping himself up with her shoulder to barely stand upright.

"Shy?"

Vasilina's voice whispered beside Palmer's ear. Palmer's eyes darkened as he retorted softly, "You're starting again, aren't you?"

Bologue stood at the forefront like a shield wall, blocking the enemy. The Flame of the Cauldron blazed fiercely beside him, chains stretched from his armor, hooked onto the Silver Swords scattered among the ruins, and hurled them backwards, embedding them one by one in front of Palmer.

Palmer reached out, casually drew a Silver Sword, his gaze wandering between Zefirin and Derby, like a hunter with a taut bowstring, waiting for the moment to release and kill.

"Don't we need to join the battle?"

Noting Palmer's abnormal behavior, Vasilina held himself back to avoid getting dragged into the fight.

"Leave professional work to the experts."

Palmer wrapped an arm around Vasilina's shoulder. As the breeze passed, the Silver Sword in his hand lifted, positioned directly in front.

"We just need to wait for the right opportunity."

The jagged armor kneeled halfway, a gap opened in its back. Bologue lazily stood up, simply sweeping over the battlefield.

A Negative Power Overlord, a Prayer Believer, several Elite Bloodthirsters...

Bologue felt a hint of pressure; the enemy was not simple nor easy to deal with, but victory wasn't impossible.

Most importantly, this battle didn't necessarily need a winner; it was about stalling time. Each passing moment increased the possibility of failure for the Night Race.

Derby asked, "Where's Haiqi? Didn't I tell him to assist you?"

"Haiqi..."

Zefirin recalled the terrifying scene, taking a deep breath, "Haiqi is dead, I... I don't know if he can come back to life."

Haiqi's body shattered into numerous pieces, sealed inside an Iron Coffin with Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid. Even if Haiqi could revive, it would take substantial time to escape from the coffin.

"The other side... the other side is an Undead too."

Zefirin disclosed key information, "His immortality is more perfect than ours."

Even after several clashes, Zefirin hadn't discovered any flaws in Bologue's immortality. His self-healing speed was unbelievably fast, able to revive from fatal neck wounds quickly, and moreover, each revival reset many of Bologue's negative statuses.

Things were getting troublesome, but the real trouble was yet to come.

Aimou walked over leisurely, placing both hands on Bologue's shoulders. Golden light twisted, Aimou vanished, replaced by a blue ring floating in Bologue's green pupils, with gilded radiance flickering on his body.

Without a word, Bologue's armor burned with blue flames, the Dead Giant rose again, engulfing Bologue. Then, the giant's form began to collapse, more lethal Scale Armor layered together, making the heavy figure increasingly slender and deadly.

Deceitful Snake Scale Liquid formed a blade in hand, Bologue raised his other hand, the Silver Swords embedded in the ground began to melt, evenly covering the blade, performing a simple silver plating which spread across the armor, coating it with deadly Silver.

Without any warning, Bologue suddenly stepped forward, his figure twisting into a rapidly advancing silver light, the lethal blade slicing through multiple obstacles.

Derby's eyes glowed with a crimson sheen, Elite Bloodthirsters swiftly stationed themselves in front, forming a defensive line. Although the Silver Sword struck his body, under the enhancement of Potion and Secret Energy, these injuries weren't enough to be lethal, especially with critical areas covered in armor.

The clash was like cars colliding on a highway, the towering figure of the Elite Bloodthirster surprisingly shaken, retreating uncontrollably, Bologue's figure paused momentarily in mid-air, then he flung a hook line, piercing the Bloodthirster's body.

As he pulled, the Elite Bloodthirster, before it could fall, was dragged crashing into Bologue.

Crashing into the blade in his hand.

Even surrounded by much armor, some parts of the Elite Bloodthirster's seamless metal were left unprotected.

The blade pierced through the Bloodthirster's eye, shredding his brain, protruding from the back of his skull.

Bologue gripped the sword hilt, allowing the deadly silver toxin to invade the Night Race's flesh, until his brain was completely scorched by the Silver.

Withdrawing the blade, Bologue stirred up a wisp of black smoke and ashes, drifting with the wind as the towering figure collapsed.

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