The Legend of the Immortal Cauldron

After they killed the god-transformed monster with wild anger, they flew to the next black ball without stopping.

After their continuous efforts, the rest of the people were rescued one after another.

At this moment, time was as tight as an arrow from a string, and they could not afford to breathe.

They spread their wings without hesitation and flew towards the next target as fast as lightning.

The next step was to rush to the place where the golden-robed elder was.

At this moment, the golden-robed elder was fighting fiercely with the huge and hideous troll alone.

This battle has lasted for a long time, and both sides are exhausted, but they are still entangled with each other, and it is difficult to tell the winner.

The troll that was so arrogant before has now lost its prestige.

Its huge body like a mountain has now become riddled with holes, which is shocking.

Deep and shallow wounds crisscross all over the body, as if it was cruelly cut by countless extremely sharp blades.

Especially on its chest, there was a hideous wound as big as its head, like a bottomless dark abyss, which continuously exuded a creepy breath of death.

The surface of this terrible wound was covered with a layer of dark and slightly dry substance, which looked like the horrible traces left by the ruthless erosion of the poison of the vicious curse, and it seemed to symbolize that the shadow of death was gradually spreading on its body.

Such a scene made the troll's already terrifying breath even more decadent and rotten.

Looking at the old man in the golden robe, the situation was not optimistic either.

Although he still maintained the majestic and majestic appearance of the golden giant, his body was also covered with scars.

These scars were long or short, wide or narrow, densely intertwined, and looked extremely tragic.

It was obvious that both the troll and the old man in the golden robe had a disordered aura and were on the verge of collapse. They seemed to have reached the end of their rope and were at the end of their strength.

At this moment, Matthew and his party came rushing over like a meteor chasing the moon.

The old man in the golden robe saw their figures from afar, and the tension on his face, which was originally so tight that it seemed as if water could be squeezed out, quickly faded like a tide, replaced by a kind of relaxation and relief after being relieved of a heavy burden.

His heart was as clear as a mirror, because he knew that with the arrival of Matthew and others, this thrilling and extremely fierce battle was about to come to an end.

As expected, under the concerted attack of Matthew and his party, the huge and hideous troll was unable to withstand such a powerful attack and fell down.

However, what surprised Matthew and his team was that after the troll was successfully killed, it disintegrated without any signs and turned into a pile of dense and numerous monster corpses.

All of these monster corpses were shriveled, as if they had been drained of all their moisture and essence, which looked extremely weird and terrifying.

In order to avoid any unexpected situations that might occur, Matthew, who has always been cautious, acted decisively and led others to take decisive action to burn all the monster corpses in front of them.

Just as the troll was killed, the other monsters that were still waving their claws and attacking frantically seemed to suddenly realize that the situation had been completely reversed, and they no longer had the ability to continue to compete with Matthew and his team.

As a result, these monsters turned around and fled back to the mysterious black light curtain like frightened birds.

Obviously, they knew it was impossible to attack Matthew and his team again at this moment.

After the monster fled like a gust of wind, Matthew and his team were unwilling to give up, but they could do nothing about it. They really couldn't chase it anymore.

The thrilling battle just now had almost exhausted their mana and exhausted their bodies, as if every inch of muscle was protesting.

After a little reorganization, everyone flew towards the Spirit Island like tired birds returning to their nests.

Along the way, the wind whistled in their ears, but it couldn't blow away the solemnity in their hearts.

After the old man in white returned, his expression was a little tired, but his eyes were still firm.

He simply said a few words of encouragement and comfort, and let everyone rest on the spot.

The previous tragic battle was like a nightmare, which made everyone on the island fall into deep fatigue.

Even those monks who did not go out to meet the enemy consumed a lot of mana to maintain the protective magic circle on the island.

Their faces were slightly pale, and their foreheads were covered with fine beads of sweat.

Except for some monks who needed to continue to monitor the black light curtain, the rest of the people, including Matthew, all sat quietly in the square to rest.

The square was silent, with only a slight breathing sound.

Everyone closed their eyes and tried to recover their physical strength and magic power.

The black light curtain was like a huge dark cloud covering the sky and the sun, weighing heavily on everyone's hearts, making people feel extremely heavy and depressed.

As long as this dark light curtain still hangs high in the sky and refuses to dissipate, everyone present knows that this bloody and cruel battle is still a long way from the real end.

Everyone was silent, just quietly accumulating their remaining strength, ready to face the next fierce battle that might be coming soon.

After the thrilling life-and-death fight just now, both sides were exhausted, but no one dared to slack off.

They knew that if they wanted to have a chance of survival in the next battle, they had to recover their exhausted mana as soon as possible.

At the same time, the demons must be resting and deploying strategies in full swing.

After all, the losses suffered by the demons in this battle were far more painful than theirs.

However, as to when the next demon attack will begin, I am afraid only the demons can know.

Matthew and his men could not know when the demons would start their next move.

The Mangcang tribe also suffered some losses, but fortunately, the cultivators here generally had a high level of cultivation.

In addition, after Matthew's special training and the initial battle, they all knew how to protect themselves.

However, the old man in the golden robe was seriously injured.

There was no way to continue fighting with them.

Although it was a pity, there was no other way.

The old man in the golden robe stopped the troll for such a long time alone. If it weren't for him, how could so many other monks survive?