Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

Twelve fireballs whistled down from the sky, trailing long tails of flame, striking the densely packed formation of the indigenous forces below.

In just an instant, Jeming's mind had already shifted to the next set of Talisman Witchcraft.

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

Another twelve fireballs!

In another instant, the third set of Talisman Witchcraft was activated.

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!

Another twelve fireballs!

With Jeming's current powerful spiritual power and terrifying calculation power, while maintaining those protections and flight around him, he could activate three fireball-type Talisman Witchcraft at the same time, and each Talisman Witchcraft in its extreme state could release four fireballs per cycle.

He divided the remaining nine attack-type Talisman Witchcraft into three groups, using them in rotation.

This meant that, theoretically, Jeming could continuously bombard below at a terrifying speed of thirty-six fireballs per second!

This precision switching down to the millisecond was a huge test of Jeming's heart power and calculation power.

But he maintained this hellish rhythm of witchcraft output through spiritual strength far beyond other apprentices.

This was a firepower that ordinary wizard apprentices couldn't even imagine, an endless, ceaseless flood of witchcraft output!

Below, the massive attack of the Native Alliance Army had just begun, and their momentum was overwhelming, about to crush the apprentices' last defense line completely.

However, what they faced was not the powerless resistance of the apprentices, but death from the sky...

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Terrorizing explosions rang out one after another, the earth trembled under the pounding of countless fireballs.

Bright flames shot up to the sky, turning the entire valley blood red. The high heat instantly vaporized the surface soil and vegetation, leaving deep blackened craters.

The Native Alliance Army's proud dense formation collapsed instantly under such indiscriminate firepower coverage.

Their metal armor twisted and melted under the fireball strikes, and their bodies turned to ashes under the terrifying high temperatures.

The rain of arrows ceased, the knights' charge stopped, the shaman's chants were interrupted.

Fear spread rapidly among the indigenous like a virus.

Previously, when facing the apprentices' witchcraft, they could still rely on numbers and coordination to wear them down, but now, this seemingly endless destruction from the sky completely stripped them of the courage to resist.

"No! What the hell is this?!"

"Run! It's a natural disaster!"

Panic, despair, soullessness, hysteria...

Rows of indigenous people collapsed, their defense line crumbling like a sandcastle.

The commanders' shouts were drowned out by the roar of explosions, any attempt to organize a counterattack was rendered futile in the next wave of fireball rain.

The Talisman Witchcraft began to bear immense pressure under high-intensity use.

The outer shell of the fireball Talisman Witchcraft behind Jeming rapidly turned red, radiating terrifying heat, and the surface runes even vaguely twisted.

The high-intensity energy output put the Talisman Witchcraft at risk of overloading at any moment.

However, Jeming's quick alternation use granted them short cooling periods, allowing the cycle to just barely sustain.

At the same time, the elemental energy in the high sky was quickly depleted.

The air above Jeming visibly twisted, forming a vacuum-like region where the power of the released witchcraft began to decline.

Jeming immediately activated the Moving Talisman, swiftly moving the witchcraft array with him, adjusting position to seek out new areas rich in elements, continuing to rain down firepower.

He constantly shifted positions in the sky, like a grim reaper walking above, every step accompanied by the wails and deaths of the indigenous below.

This high-density and continuous firepower output was something the Native Alliance Army had never encountered.

Some of them might have seen scenes of High Tier Wizards effortlessly wiping out armies, destroying kingdoms, but such power felt too distant, like a nightmare, devoid of reality.

Yet Jeming's attacks were different. His power may not have matched that of High Tier Wizards, but it made the indigenous feel the sheer terror of power even more.

Their tactics, courage, and numbers became meaningless against this unceasing bombardment.

Not that no one tried to counterattack, but gathering too many people would be deemed a target.

And even if those strong ones released scattered attacks, most were easily dodged by Jeming, while the rest were blocked by the four layers of defense around him.

What's more, apart from the overhead attack, those apprentices trapped in the valley were not dead either.

Unable to organize an effective counterattack while being attacked from both sky and ground...

Thus, the rout began.

The indigenous soldiers dropped their weapons, letting out shrill cries, fleeing in all directions.

The officers and shamans who tried to maintain order were swiftly consumed by merciless fireballs.

The entire valley was completely turned into a purgatory of flames, the final resting place of the indigenous.

Jeming watched coldly from the air, his flood of witchcraft showed no sign of stopping, continuing until there were no longer any living, moving indigenous figures below.

With his own strength, aided by the transcendental power of the Talisman Witchcraft, he single-handedly crushed the entire Native Alliance Army!

The besieged apprentices did not pursue excessively either, standing in silence after confirming their safety, looking at the figure above them and the battlefield turned into scorched earth, speechless for a long while.

The despair in their hearts was completely cleansed, replaced by a surge of shock and awe.

In truth, if these thousands of wizard apprentices had unified command, they could potentially unleash destruction even beyond Jeming's.

But unfortunately, these wizard apprentices were too "smart" to simply follow others' commands.

Without unified coordination, they might surpass Jeming in single-round explosiveness, but they couldn't sustain an attack, and there would be serious firepower overflow in certain areas.

Feeling the dissipated no-fly power below, Jeming finally descended slowly.

The moment he landed, he clearly felt the gazes passing from all directions.

"What are you looking at?!"

Jeming looked at the group of wizard apprentices around him who were only focused on staring at him and letting the enemies escape, a look of exasperation on his face.

"They're gone, hurry up and chase!"

"Huh? Oh, oh!"

Although theoretically there was no hierarchical relationship among them, all the wizard apprentices who heard Jeming's words instinctively shrunk their necks and hurriedly chased after the fleeing indigenous forces.

However, among these apprentices, there were two groups of people whose expressions were somewhat different, and surrounded by them were the two most famous geniuses of this cohort: Augusta and Horn.

"Hmm?"

Jeming also noticed the seemingly peculiar emotions in two particular gazes and instinctively looked in their direction.

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