Chapter 52: The Final Three Hours...

It was deep into the night. Outside the entrance to the canyon at Snow Mountain Town, as far as the eye could see, there was a dense mass of monsters, numbering easily in the millions.

Many of these creatures had begun to climb onto the backs of those in front, trampling the monsters below as they surged toward the defensive line. Quite a few of the beasts, unable to bear the weight, were crushed to death, and those that fell were in turn trampled by those behind. Yet despite the many that perished beneath the stampede, there was still an unending tide of monsters recklessly charging forward, heedless of death.

Yi Yeyu and Yi Zheng had no choice but to join the ranks of the slaughter, helping to clear away those monsters that threatened to scale the boulders. The slender sword in Yi Zheng’s hand shifted form, transforming into a massive blade nearly three meters long. He leaped down, plunging into the beast horde, cutting a bloody swath through their ranks. With almost every swing, he dispatched dozens of monsters.

On the other side, Yi Yeyu tirelessly reloaded her artifact with life crystals, bombarding the monsters below with heavy cannon fire. Though her aim wasn’t the best, the plain was so thickly packed with monsters that no matter where her shots landed, they would inevitably leave a field of corpses in their wake.

Beneath the giant stones, more than twenty gold-ranked hunters, after two days and nights of relentless combat, were already thoroughly exhausted, but still forced themselves to hold on. They continued to slay the monsters pouring toward them, snatching brief moments to replenish their life energy with life crystals.

But no matter how many they killed, there were always some monsters that slipped past the first defensive line and made it into the second. The sheer number was overwhelming; they could only defend within their immediate range, leaving those beyond their reach to the silver-ranked hunters behind them.

The second line, manned by over a thousand silver-ranked hunters, bore the greatest burden of all. The number of monsters leaking through from the gold-ranked hunters was far from small, and these silver hunters had scarcely a moment’s rest, just like their comrades ahead. They stood close together, leaving almost no gaps in their fields of attack; more than ninety percent of the monsters that breached the second line fell to their blades. They knew well that the bronze-ranked hunters in the third line were too few, and if too many monsters got through, it would spell disaster for those behind. So unless it was absolutely necessary, they would not allow a single monster to slip by.

Lin Huang and his companions were stationed in the third defensive line, which, thanks to the efforts of those ahead, was the least pressured. Fewer than one-tenth of the monsters charging into the canyon managed to reach them.

Yet as time passed, Lin Huang’s group began to feel the strain once more. The bodies of the slain monsters had previously narrowed the canyon entrance, so that for over half an hour, they would only face a wave of attacks now and then. But now, it was almost back to the original state, with waves of monsters crashing in every five or six minutes.

Bai’s killing speed remained unchanged; he was like an unflagging machine of slaughter, dispatching as many monsters alone as Lin Huang and his companions combined. The blood-red wings on his back, formed from condensed blood energy, shifted through countless forms on the battlefield, each capable of beheading or piercing the heart of a monster with supreme efficiency. Even Lin Huang was forced to admit he could not match such lethality.

Lin Huang’s own performance was impressive as well. With his black iron saber in hand, it became a peerless weapon, nearly unstoppable under the mastery of the “Great Wilderness Blade Scripture.” As his battle experience grew, where once it took him five strikes to fell a monster, he now needed no more than three, and for anything below the third rank of black iron, a single blow sufficed. His movement technique, “Treading Snow Without a Trace,” had become increasingly refined, allowing him to move about the battlefield like a ghost.

Zhou Le and the others were convinced Lin Huang must hail from some noble family—how else could he possess such advanced techniques and formidable combat prowess? After all, they themselves were all at black iron third rank, yet their efficiency in slaying monsters lagged far behind his.

Lin Huang had no time to dwell on how many higher-ranked monsters he had slain, how many fragments he had accumulated, or how many card rewards he had gained. In these desperate moments, he barely had time to drink a mouthful of water between assaults, let alone get distracted.

Little Black seemed to understand the intensity of his battle, refraining from popping up with notification windows to avoid interfering with Lin Huang’s concentration.

Time crawled by on the battlefield, each second stretching into an ordeal. Everyone was desperately hoping for sunrise, for the day to break. If they could just last until dawn, the extraordinary Yu Chanli would arrive. Once he slew the transcendent beast, this nightmare would finally end.

Lin Huang pushed himself to the limit again and again. Compared to the others, he was the only ordinary human on this battlefield—the gap in physical constitution was something no amount of combat prowess could make up for. Even Zhou Le and the others, all third-rank black iron youths, were so exhausted they could barely speak, let alone Lin Huang, who hadn’t even stepped into the black iron realm.

Many noticed Lin Huang’s perseverance—not only Zhou Le and his group, but even some bronze hunters nearby couldn’t help but admire the boy’s tenacity. They were well aware his body had long since reached the point of exhaustion, yet he continued to endure on willpower alone, squeezing every last drop of potential from himself.

Lin Huang was even more acutely aware of his own condition. His blade swung relentlessly, never pausing for even a moment. He knew that if he stopped, his body might collapse completely; not only would he be unable to swing his saber, he might not even be able to stand.

So he told himself over and over, “I can’t stop! I must not stop! I just need to hold out for a few more hours, until six in the morning!”

On the battlefield, the monsters’ assault grew ever more frenzied. The roars of all manner of beasts mingled with the shouts of the defenders, never ceasing.

By a little after three in the morning, everyone, their bodies leaden with fatigue, longed to survive these final three hours in peace.

But suddenly, a thunderous beastly roar echoed from a great distance. The sound came from beyond the glacier, rolling over the ice, sweeping past the defenders, and resounding out onto the grasslands beyond the canyon. The very sound of it sent everyone’s hearts racing; even Lin Huang felt his pulse pound, as if some terrifying presence had fixed its gaze upon him, sending chills down his spine.

Yet this roar had a very different effect on the monsters. They all became strangely agitated, many of them ramming the giant stones with reckless abandon, oblivious to pain, while others began to pile atop one another, desperately trying to scale the barricade.

Witnessing the monsters begin to stack themselves in an effort to climb the stones, Yi Zheng and Yi Yeyu both frowned deeply. They hadn’t expected such a drastic change in the final three hours.

Yi Zheng was still brooding when he heard a sound from the direction of the snowy mountain. Turning his head, he saw a mass of dark clouds rapidly approaching, blotting out half the sky. When he looked closer, he drew a sharp breath.

“This is bad—it’s a flock of shadow crows…”