As the Gate of Space completely stabilized, the Wizard Legion’s troop deploynt reached its peak.
The battlefield situation shifted from a brutal stalemate to a one-sided crushing victory.
Countless witchcraft glows beca the main the of the battlefield.
Low-level Acid Arrows and Fireball Techniques were like a torrential storm, while high-level teor Falls and Extre Cold Ice Prisons covered vast areas.
Various Curses, Psychic Shocks, Flesh Mutations and other bizarre witchcraft silently spread among the Holy Mission, with combined Compound Sorcery and even Super Large War Array Witchcraft cleansing the land like divine punishnt.
The Holy Mission initially tried to counterattack with their fanatic faith and nurical advantage, but in the face of absolute firepower density and bizarre attack thods, their resistance seed pale and powerless.
A Wind Blade might slice through a few Fireballs, but what followed imdiately were hundreds of other attacks of different attributes.
Whole swathes of Holy Mission mbers evaporated, decomposed, froze, twisted in the gorgeous yet deadly glow of witchcraft...
Eventually, like snow under scorching lava, they swiftly lted away.
This was no longer a war, but an efficient massacre.
Even those deeply brainwashed in the Holy Mission found their survival instinct overwhelming their fanatic faith in the face of such hopeless annihilation, leading to mass routs.
However, at this stage, escape was no longer an option.
The Wizards had already cast a net, with spatial seals, gravity traps, spiritual illusions...
The retreat paths were more lethal than the attack forefront.
The battle in the sky was also nearing its end.
After receiving Dionysius Spencer’s confirmation of "no Sixth Level presence," the three previously restrained Fourth Level Wizards unleashed without holding back.
"The ga is over," a Fourth Level Wizard announced coldly.
The Magic Staff in his hand burst forth with piercing light, and the previously entangled witchcraft turned fierce and lethal in an instant.
Another Wizard waved his hand to summon a massive Elental Vortex, forcibly stripping and devouring the opponent’s Divine Power.
The third Wizard directly unfolded a complex geotric Rune field, entrapping the Holy Spirit within to crush with rules.
The three Holy Spirits roared in terror and struggled as their Divine Powers paled under the full force of the Fourth Level Wizards.
In just a blink, their divine bodies began to crumble, the glow rapidly dimming, their defeat a matter of ti.
Seeing his companions nearing extermination, the God of Blade, who had been entangled with the Black Giants and Third Level Wizards, panicked completely.
He endured a few witchcraft attacks, forcibly cleaving away two pesky Black Giants, then turned to flee as a streak of light attempting to tear through space.
"Hehehehehe... Trying to escape now? Too late."
A chilling voice seed to co from the nether.
With a bone-chilling laugh, a massive hand composed entirely of eerie blue Energy struggled to penetrate the slightly wavering Gate of Space.
Where the massive hand passed, the space emitted wails of unbearable strain.
It traversed the vast distance, appearing instantly overhead of the God of Blade, then... grabbed down!
"No! What is this?!" the God of Blade cried out in unprecedented wails of agony.
He felt as though the weight of the entire world bore down on him, his once proud Divine Cutting Power rendered child’s play under the massive hand, unable even to tear through space.
He struggled madly, Divine Blood splashing, yet he couldn’t budge a fraction.
Dionysius Spencer’s voice echoed over the battlefield through the Gate of Space, carrying a cat-and-mouse cruelty: "Got you, little bug. Your fate ends here."
Under countless horrified gazes, the blue hand dragged the despairingly wailing God of Blade slowly towards the Gate of Space.
The God of Blade’s shrieks halted abruptly, disappearing into the darkness beyond the gate, leaving only an echo of ultimate terror and unwillingness in the heavens:
"No!!!"
This scene shattered the psychological defenses of the remaining three Holy Spirits and all Holy Mission mbers witnessing the spectacle.
"The Creator God... has the Creator God awakened?!" A Holy Spirit, suppressed and with no strength to fight back, murmured despairingly, their fighting spirit collapsing instantly.
This mont of distraction provided the three Fourth Level Wizards with a perfect opportunity.
Imprisonnt, sealing, deprivation... A series of prepared asures fell quickly, effortlessly capturing the three thoroughly weakened Holy Spirits.
Divine defeat, faith collapsed.
On the ground, the remnant Holy Mission mbers turned ashen, their last threads of resistance vanishing.
Soone, the first to drop their weapon, prostrated on the ground, followed by a tidal wave of millions of Holy Mission mbers kneeling in submission.
Seeing this, the Wizards halted the indiscriminate slaughter.
After all, living captives ant labor, experints, and renewable resources, far more valuable than cold corpses.
Of course, many Holy Mission mbers scattered in chaos and fled, but the Wizards were in no hurry to pursue—in this plane already judged as "no high-level threat," clearing residual resistance was only a matter of ti; they wouldn’t escape this world.
Jeming followed other Wizards, beginning to clean up the ravaged battlefield.
Collecting valuable spoils, escorting captives, dealing with corpses.
More importantly, obtaining detailed information about this world through "Soul Search."
He found a relatively intact Holy Spirit corpse, placed his hand on its forehead, and his Spiritual Power brusquely invaded the remnants of its fragnted soul.
A flood of information surged into his mind: the history of the Divine Continent, the Four Great Empires’ structure, the legend of the World Gate, and... how the four "Holy Spirits" maintained their rule by monopolizing resources and suppressing new Holy Spirits.
"I see..." Jeming withdrew his hand, his lips curling into a mocking cold smile.
He had always felt the power structure of this world was malford, with a huge gap between the top-tier strength (Fifth Level) and the next (Third Level), and now he understood the root cause.
A Third Level Wizard beside him, who had also just completed a Soul Search, couldn’t help but snort coldly: "What a frog in a well! re Fifth Level creatures, to presu calling themselves ’gods,’ utterly preposterous!"
Jeming nodded in strong agreent.
In the Wizard Civilization, from the ti of apprenticeship, they were inford of the vastness of the Multi-Dinsional Planes and the endless power hierarchy.
This realization instilled in Wizards a constant awe of the unknown and a thirst for knowledge, a deep understanding of their own insignificance, driving them to constantly strive for transcendence.
While this pressure might eliminate so with weaker will, those who survived were all Seekers with a clear understanding of the world.
In contrast, in a world like the Divine Continent, its top experts grew all the way, ultimately standing atop the native food chain, their vision restricted to a limited scope.
Over ti, it bred incurable arrogance, even considering themselves ’gods.’
Little did they know, on the scale of the Endless Plane, their so-called ’divine status’ was rely a joke to the eyes of the strong.
"Continue the cleanup," a Fourth Level Wizard’s voice interrupted Jeming’s thoughts, "Establish a forward base as soon as possible; we need to thoroughly ’digest’ this world."
"Understood!"
Jeming and the Third Level Wizard nodded and continued to turn back to the task of battlefield cleanup.
The conquest had only just begun.
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