Red Blood Fertile Soil, at the entrance to the cave.

The fluorescent moss on the ceiling flickered, bathing the temporary meeting area below in a dim halo of light.

After many days, the thirteen City-State Lords of the alliance had gathered once again.

Unlike the cautious silence of their last meeting, where each lord harbored their own ulterior motives, the atmosphere this time was much more restless.

Marais sat at the head of the table, her expression serene. Her gaze subtly swept over the twelve anxious faces before her, taking in every detail.

The Gleystone-man lord was slamming his fist on the stone table and shouting.

“…We’ve been attacking the Nine Nether City Domain for so long, and we’ve lost enough troops to fill three blackwater pits! And for what? We haven’t even set foot across their border! What do you all think we should do?”

His words were like a fuse, instantly igniting the long-suppressed anxiety in the other lords’ chests.

Everyone began to chime in.

“Those Elves refuse to face us head-on! They just hide behind their line of watchtowers and hold out with those Alchemy Puppets.”

“Where did they even get so many Silver Tier Alchemy Puppets?”

“If we keep this up, when will it ever end?”

“This war is impossible to fight!”

As the lords vented their complaints, they didn’t mention her by name, but their gazes periodically shot toward Marais at the head of the table. It was clearly their way of pressuring her.

Marais saw through it all and sneered inwardly, ignoring them.

Seeing that Marais refused to take the bait, the lords gradually fell silent.

Finally, the Di Luo Dwarves’ lord could no longer hold back. He slammed the table hard, his single eye glaring at Marais as he said coldly, “Marais, why aren’t you speaking? You’re the one who started this war. Now that it’s come to this, don’t you think you owe us an explanation?”

The other lords all turned to look at Marais.

Her expression remained placid. She glanced around the room before speaking in a slow, measured tone.

“The decision to wage war on the Nine Nether City Domain was unanimously agreed upon by everyone here. I didn’t hold a knife to anyone’s throat and force them to agree. Now that the war isn’t going well, you turn around and demand an explanation from me… Kazimo, do you think I’m a pushover, or are the hides of you Di Luo Dwarves thicker than the black iron dug from the mines?”

Kazimo flew into a rage. His single eye widened, and his thick knuckles clenched into a fist, as if he wanted to flip the table on the spot.

But as he met Marais’s indifferent gaze, his Adam’s apple bobbed a few times. The roar on the tip of his tongue never escaped, dissolving into a muffled, cold snort as he turned his head away.

Marais paid the paper tiger no more mind. Her gaze shifted to the other lords as she spoke coldly.

“The moment the war goes badly, you run here complaining, slamming tables, and trying to pin the blame on us. Anyone who didn’t know better would think this alliance was mine alone.”

“Or perhaps you’d rather become Vassal Races of Vion City?”

“If that’s the case, I don’t mind taking the blame.”

Stung by Marais’s sharp sarcasm, the lords froze, all of them falling silent.

Having put them in their place, Marais gave a cold snort and changed the subject.

“The Nine Nether City Domain has been cowering behind their defensive line, refusing to come out no matter what. This proves they know they’re weaker than us and don’t dare to face us in a decisive battle.”

“You find those Alchemy Puppets troublesome, but look at it this way: if we can exhaust their supply of puppets, what will those pointy-ears have left? How many of them are there in total? Every one they lose is one they can’t replace. How can they possibly fight against our army of nearly a hundred thousand?”

“Their Alchemy Puppets are not infinite. Once we’ve depleted their supply, they’ll be ours for the slaughter.”

After her speech, the lords’ expressions softened, and they all appeared lost in thought.

They had to admit, Marais’s words had convinced them.

Although the war had been frustrating, they had held the initiative from the very beginning.

The Nine Nether City Domain was simply not their match.

More importantly, the war had already gone on for a long time. If they retreated now, all the lives and resources they had poured into it would go down the drain. Who could accept that?

Having come this far, how could they possibly give up halfway?

The lords exchanged glances, quickly reaching a tacit understanding.

“Alright, let’s keep going! Kill those damn pointy-ears!”

“I’d like to see just how many of those metal scraps the pointy-ears have to throw at us.”

“When we breach Nine Nether City, I’ll turn those pointy-ears into seaweed fertilizer!”

Marais leaned back in her chair, watching the scene unfold. The curve of her lips deepened by an imperceptible fraction.

Just then, the sound of hurried yet light footsteps came from the direction of the corridor.

A slender Dark Elf in light armor quickly slipped through a gap beside the stone table and leaned in to whisper urgently in Marais’s ear.

Marais’s gaze sharpened for a moment before she quickly masked it, leaving only a faint, sharp glint in her eyes.

The Gleystone-man lord was the first to lose his patience, asking in his rough voice, “What is it, Marais?”

Marais smiled slightly. “Everyone, it seems we no longer have to wait.”

“Our scouts report that there’s been a major development in the Nine Nether City Domain just now. A large number of troops are massing at the border. It looks like they can’t take it anymore and are planning to face us in a decisive battle.”

The moment she said this, the lords were overjoyed.

“Excellent!” The Gleystone-man lord slammed his fist on the table, sending stone fragments flying. “They’re finally willing to come out!”

“It seems their Alchemy Puppets are almost depleted. That must be why they’re willing to show themselves.”

“Finally, we can have a proper, hard-fought battle!”

The lords were all incredibly excited.

Even Kazimo, who had just been rebuffed by Marais, shed his gloomy expression and looked ecstatic.

Marais’s gaze swept over the suddenly ecstatic faces. She waited for the clamor to die down a bit before saying slowly, “You all heard. This is our only chance. If we don’t crush those Elves in one fell swoop and they retreat behind their defensive line again, we may not get such a good opportunity next time.”

“I suggest all city-states dispatch their main forces to converge at the northern entrance of the Graybone Passage and press forward with our entire army.”

The lords naturally understood this logic. After exchanging a look, they agreed without hesitation.

“Let’s do it!”

“Mobilize all troops! We attack in full force!”

“We can’t let those pointy-ears scurry back into their turtle shell!”

The twelve lords didn’t linger. They departed in a hurry, rushing back to mobilize their armies.

In the blink of an eye, the cave entrance fell silent.

Marais did not leave.

She remained seated on the stone chair, her eyelids lowered as if waiting for something.

A moment later, a shadow rose silently from a dark corner on the ground. Like a torn piece of ink-black cloth, it slowly stretched and coalesced, forming a hazy silhouette.

Two dark red points of light pulsed faintly within the shadow, emitting an unearthly chill that did not belong to the living.

“Those Elves are finally willing to come out.”

A hoarse, deep voice seeped out of the shadow, like sandpaper scraping across coarse pottery.

In the previous battles, although many subterranean creatures had died, the forces of Nine Nether City had always hidden behind their defensive line. Their losses were almost entirely Alchemy Puppets, with negligible casualties among the living.

As a result, the efficiency of collecting death energy was far lower than expected.

Never mind the lords; even he had grown somewhat anxious.

Fortunately, Nine Nether City could finally hold back no longer and had chosen to attack head-on.

The intensity of the coming battle would far exceed what had come before, and he would be able to collect enough death energy from this meat-grinder of an underground battlefield.

Marais turned her head and said flatly, “Don’t forget our agreement.”

“I won’t forget.” The shadow’s voice held a trace of delight, the pleasure of a goal nearly achieved. “We only want the death energy. The rest, be it the Red Blood Fertile Soil or Nine Nether City, will all be yours.”

Marais said no more.

She stood up, the hem of her cloak making a soft rustle as it swept across the ground. She then turned and walked toward the corridor, her figure quickly vanishing into the dim passage.

Behind her, the shadowy mass slowly contracted like receding ink, sinking back into the crevices of the floor and disappearing.

Just as Marais emerged from the corridor’s entrance, a slender figure materialized silently from the shadows of the rock wall.

It was a beautiful Dark Elf with an exquisite figure. Her long, silver-white hair was tied back in a high ponytail, and her dark red pupils reflected Marais’s back with a hint of hesitation.

“Mother,” Cuirning said in a low voice, casting a wary glance into the depths of the corridor. “That… thing… can it really be trusted?”

Marais didn’t stop walking. She merely turned her head slightly, a cold smirk gracing her lips. “A bunch of creatures who don’t even dare to show their true faces and talk of nothing but death? How could they possibly be trusted?”

Cuirning paused, her brow furrowing even more deeply. “Then why did you…”

“I’m simply taking advantage of the situation.”

Marais cut off her question, her gaze turning toward Nine Nether City.

“Someone wants to solve our Nine Nether City problem for us. Why should we refuse?”

“Let them scheme whatever they want. The only thing I’m curious about is what method those creatures plan to use to deal with the pointy-ears.”

Cuirning grew thoughtful at her words.

Marais looked away, her tone turning icy. “Send orders to the other families. After the battle begins, they are not to charge too far ahead. Conserve our strength as much as possible, and let those fools take the vanguard for us.”

“This is the perfect opportunity to weaken the other city-states. Once Nine Nether City is dealt with, we can turn back and take care of them.”

“By then, the entire Red Blood Fertile Soil will be ours.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Cuirning snapped back to her senses, a fiery heat surging in her heart.

The Gleystone-men, the Di Luo Dwarves, the Kuo-toa fishmen… they were all just a bunch of idiots.

The Dark Elves were the noblest race in the Dark Nether Realm.

Once those unsightly city-states were purged, all the Blood Soul Crystals in the Red Blood Cave would belong to Vion City.

With enough resources, Vion City’s power would snowball, growing rapidly.

One day, their Vion Clan would become the most powerful Dark Elf clan in the entire Dark Nether Realm.

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