CHAPTER 472: CHAPTER 433 TRACE AND THUNDERBIRD CLAN

prop——

A distant and ethereal incantation echoed endlessly through the dim forest, obscured by lush foliage.

Within the technique orbit formed by seven short and thick pale yellow whale oil candles, silver utensils, and large pieces of natural crystal, an invisible wind of the Spirit Realm blew continuously.

Whoosh——

Carrying a fresh scent like holly leaves, the invisible wind brought wave after wave of information from the Spirit Realm into this world, which was received and swiftly analyzed by the "Prophet" Milan standing at the center of the orbit.

In front of him, Aiven, adorned with white crystal ornaments, stood silently with closed eyes, serving this time as a human amplifier for Milan.

Previously, several of Milan’s divinations were not very successful.

Although Dr. Taylor provided some intelligence on a few "Vesalian School" traitors, there were only a few names and general descriptions of appearance and abilities, but no medium that could offer precise direction about them.

Especially with all the members being Tier 2 Official Wizards, which greatly increased the difficulty of Milan’s divination.

In previous Spirit Realm feedback, there were three consecutive names that yielded nothing substantial.

The reasons could be many: the names did not match typical appearance features, the essence of life had changed, they had progressed to an extraordinary level... or maybe they were already dead.

It wasn’t until he divined someone named Lamb Ulysses that the ritual finally reacted.

According to intelligence, Ulysses was most obsessed with the knowledge of the "Necromancy School," and the groundbreaking technique he mastered allowed him to revive the bodies of the dead and then precisely manipulate them with a [Tattletale Strain].

The combined effect was even more powerful than the original necromantic death servants, capable of performing meticulous tasks that many low-level undead species could never achieve.

However, even so, it was difficult to precisely locate him, and they could only roughly determine when he was most likely to be somewhere.

This was the last clue they had in hand, and the only thing they could rely on was Milan’s divination.

At that time.

After arranging a rendezvous with Dr. Taylor and sending back the prescription given by them through a messenger, they set off again, racing against time.

On the way, after a few divinations targeting Ulysses, the four-person team officially crossed the Abayachi Mountains and entered the Western Region for the first time.

Of course, in reality, this place was still in the east relative to the entire New Continent, separated by vast lands from the New Hilus Vice-Kingdom, far from the east-west divide.

Currently, this area was home to large Atrean activity zones.

Moreover, even in the farther western Hilus Colony, Atrean resistance organizations still existed, mostly remnants of the Kuma Empire and the Azik Empire.

While chasing along the way, this was already Milan’s fourth divination, finally about to catch the only clue—the tail of that Wizard Lamb Ulysses.

Aiven felt a bit of regret that after venturing into the inland regions, the newly upgraded quasi-legendary battleship "Storm Horn" wouldn’t have a chance to show its prowess.

After a while, the Spirit Realm winds in the orbit gradually dissipated.

"Whoosh——! High Cliff, Thunder, Blue Eagle, rolling dark clouds...about fifty kilometers from here, sometime between one and three hours.

Unlike the small tribes they passed before, this time they seemed ready to act."

Milan let out a long breath, finally showing a trace of vigor on his face.

Previously during tracking, this group hadn’t revealed any traces after attacking the Wendat Tribe of Apsuya with a "black cloud" and had been silently heading west ever since.

Contrary to Aiven’s initial guess, this time there seemed to be a very clear purpose; the small tribes encountered along the way were clearly not their targets, until now...

"Blue Eagle?"

Upon hearing Milan’s divination result, Apsuya was thoughtful.

"Huh, Suya, do you know anything about this tribe?

If relations are good, we could issue a warning in advance and have them dispatch their Extraordinary level forces to help us capture Ulysses!"

Milan clenched his fist, feeling this might be the only good news he’d heard on this journey.

"Of course I know them, the Blue Eagle should be referring to the Quinayinter Clan not far from here, a major tribe on par with our ’Wendat Clan.’

Their tribe worships Blue Eagle, also known as the Thunderbird ’Sasimo,’ which might be a being even more powerful than the great ’Spirit of the Giant Bear’ Gleam."

Though Apsuya knew about their situation, he couldn’t help but pour cold water on the team.

"However, prepare to be disappointed—in truth, our relationship is slightly better than with the Iroquois, yet still falls within the category of enmity. In fact, Atrean people worshiping different Totem Gods find it hard to become friends."

So, entering their territory later means this party might face, apart from the Black Hand behind the curtain, an ungracious Quinayinter Clan.

Moreover, Apsuya also knew that on the mountains near the "Thunderbird" clan, there lived several true demonized creatures, "Thunderbirds"; they were similar to Sub-dragon Species with giant dragon blood, and reaching adulthood meant Tier 3.

That was a powerful natural barrier belonging to the Quinayinter Clan.

"Ah...? This is the worst news ever,"

Milan’s previously excited expression immediately dropped; combat strength had always been his weakness, decided by the career path the same as Dr. Taylor’s.

"Alright, time is tight on this hour-long mountain path. Let’s move quickly and stay hidden!"

Aiven naturally took hold of the "Little Fatty" Olivia beside him, while Apsuya led Milan, transforming into the form of a lynx. They avoided the underbrush on the forest floor and leaped onto the sturdy branches.

In the treetops, they turned into two flashes of light, swiftly moving forward, disappearing within the forest in the blink of an eye.

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

....

Twenty kilometers away from the Quinayinter Tribe’s settlement, in a dim small valley.

Five pale-faced figures in black robes were bustling around a half-human-height pottery jar at the center.

Some were continuously adding various medicinal ingredients from small pouches on their waists that seemed like animal stomachs;

Others were tending to a pyre beneath the jar, which burned with a strange green flame;

Yet others were muttering incessantly, uttering strings of low, deep curses from their pale, cracked lips.

The chaotic chants seemed like countless tiny creatures whispering furtive secrets, making a normal person want to scratch their brain out and put it back in.

Gurgle... gurgle...

The pottery jar, made of coarse pottery, was bubbling with faint black smoke. If one’s eyesight was sharp enough, they might discern that the black smoke consisted of extremely tiny, delicate particles.

At this moment, under the influence of black witchcraft, they floated skyward, turning a not-so-high white cloud into a dark, ominous black.

Ugh—

Beside the five black-robed figures, a gigantic wolf as tall as a human with a mottled fur and emaciated frame had nodules on its neck that swelled and shrank, occasionally spewing a mouthful of toxic water, red and yellow with bacteria, into the jar.

It was clear that their purpose wasn’t simply to cause artificial rain but to add a sufficient amount of extra ingredients.

The poison cloud ultimately formed over Celestial Mountain was merely a carrier that could carry a myriad of bacterial species. The "Super Cystic Fungus" was only one of the relatively less lethal ordinary members among them.

Members of the "Poison Plague School" all knew that the most destructive bacteria were often not those with the highest lethality in a short period but those with the strongest transmission capability and lethal potential.

Not much was needed; as long as the lethality rate exceeded a third, any human organization’s order and social structure would directly collapse.

"It should be about right. Be careful! Don’t let the ’Plague Poison Cloud’ fall directly on the Tier 3 Extraordinaries in the tribe. If they break it, the effect will be greatly reduced."

"Gah gah, don’t worry. I have experience."

Woo—

In the sky, like a large rain cloud, the "Plague Poison Cloud" flew forward under the control of witchcraft, seemingly slow but actually fast, reaching the edge of the sizeable distant camp in just ten minutes.

"Woof woof..."

"Gah gah gah..."

"Hoo hoo hoo..."

The sky suddenly echoed with sounds like dog barks, crow cries, or storm roars, filtering into the ears of the laboring aboriginal residents.

Then they saw a vast swath of black fog, like an overburdened leaden cloud, plummet straight from the sky.

"Everyone, look, the dark clouds are falling."

In less than a minute.

"Roar—!"

"Howl—!"

"What’s happening to you guys? No, help—!"

Twenty kilometers away, well-hidden, two black wizards observing the tribe’s changes with witchcraft sported a simultaneous faint smile.

"Alright, let’s move to the next targ—"

Suddenly, the muffled sound of rolling thunder approached from the distant sky.

Skree—!

The piercing screech of an eagle, as if a thunderbolt, shot through the eardrums, resounding through heaven and earth.

This made the expressions on the faces of the "Living Corpse" and "Poisonous Wolf" change dramatically, as they instantly looked skyward.

Boom!

Above them, a massive black shadow descended from the sky like a bolt of lightning.

"What the hell is that?!"