The Elven Cultivator

’An allied race?’

Anton understood.

Allied races held a slightly higher status than ordinary Vassal Races. They possessed more autonomy and weren’t required to pay regular tribute.

Typically, only powerful races were granted such treatment.

The allied races of a top-tier power like Blood Roar Fortress were usually first-rate forces themselves—undisputed hegemons in their respective regions.

”Anton, I’m truly sorry.”

A look of shame appeared on Aolu’s furry face.

”I’ve dragged you into my affairs.”

Anton waved his hand, unconcerned.

’Besides, it’s not like I’m the one who lost out.’

If anything, it was that Wolf Race member named Byron who had taken a Spiritual Attack from him.

”The alchemy room is ready,” Grant said. ”It’s in the auxiliary building east of Ranfeng Hall. Just head straight over; someone will be at the door to greet you.”

”Thanks,” Anton said, nodding at Grant.

”Don’t mention it.” Grant smiled. ”I have other matters to attend to, so I’ll leave you to it. Contact me anytime if you need anything.”

With that, he waved to the Elves, turned, and strode away, quickly vanishing into the crowd.

Once Grant had departed, Anton turned to the Elves.

”Go back and get some rest. I’ll finish up here, and then we’ll enter the Subspace.”

”Yes, Clan Leader.”

The Elves filed out of Ranfeng Hall.

Anton and Aolu then proceeded to the alchemy room.

...

In less than two days, Anton had finished crafting the totem pole for Aolu.

The totem pole was a dark, burnished gold and stood about two meters tall, making it half a body taller than Aolu himself.

The shaft was thick and solid, its surface covered in rough, powerful runic lines, perfectly matching the totemic style of the Golden-backed Ape-man Clan.

Atop the pole, a lifelike statue of a Golden-backed Ape-man ancestor raised its hands high and roared at the sky, its posture both wild and majestic.

When Aolu received the totem pole, he couldn’t help but lovingly stroke it for a long moment before immediately infusing it with Magic Power to test it out.

The top of the totem pole abruptly glowed with a golden light. A visible ripple of energy spread out from the shaft, causing the walls of the alchemy room to tremble faintly.

”Yes! This is perfect!”

Aolu was so excited he was scratching his ears and cheeks, his face wreathed in a massive smile.

Right then and there, he took the Thunder Prison Pillar from his Dimensional Bag and presented it to Anton with both hands.

”Anton, here is the Thunder Prison Pillar, as promised. Please, take it.”

Anton accepted the Thunder Prison Pillar. After a quick scan with his Divine Sense confirmed everything was in order, he stored it in his Qiankun Bag.

Both parties were highly satisfied with the trade.

After returning to his residence, Anton spent another three days setting up a Teleportation Array in the basement.

From that point on, a permanent, ready-to-use passage existed between the Silver Moon Race and Darkness Fortress.

Afterward, Anton made a trip back to the Silver Moon Forest to meet with Eleanor. Once he confirmed that all was well with the Clan, he returned to Darkness Fortress.

...

「Chenxi Calendar, Year 9376. Late Autumn.」

The day to enter the Subspace had finally arrived.

Anton led the Silver Moon Squad from their residence to Ranfeng Hall to pick up their exit Scrolls. They then left Darkness Fortress and headed in the direction of Holy Dragon City.

The entrance to the Subspace spanned the only mountain path leading to Holy Dragon City.

”This is the entrance to the Subspace?”

Romance’s eyes widened as she stared in astonishment at the scene before her.

Before they set out, she had imagined many possibilities for what the Subspace entrance might look like, but she had never pictured a scene like this.

The earth simply vanished, as if some invisible force had brutally gouged a chunk out of the landscape.

In its place was a distortion so vast its end couldn’t be seen.

It rose from the ground to a height of several hundred meters, like a massive sheet of translucent fabric that had been crumpled up and then unfurled, shrouding everything behind it in a vague, shimmering silhouette.

The edges of the distortion constantly trembled, cracked, and resealed, as if being licked by an invisible flame.

Each ripple spawned minute spatial fissures. Inside them was a bottomless, pitch-black darkness, like the eyes of some ancient monster opening and closing, coldly staring at the intruders.

Quite a few people had already gathered around the entrance.

Seven or eight elite squads from various races were scattered across the open ground outside the entrance, each keeping a respectful distance from the others.

No one spoke loudly; an unspoken silence hung over them all.

The entrance to the Subspace opened at irregular intervals each day.

The duration of each opening and the time between them followed no discernible pattern.

The allied forces had observed and recorded it for a considerable time, but they had never been able to decipher the logic governing the gate’s operation.

The Silver Moon Squad was in luck. Before they had waited long, they saw the fissures at the distortion’s edge begin to open and close with increasing frequency.

It was a sign that the entrance to the Subspace was about to open.

This sight quickly drew the attention of the numerous elite squads.

They rose to their feet one after another, their gazes fixed on the entrance.

The distortion at the entrance abruptly intensified. A long, narrow slit tore open down the center, as if slowly ripped apart from within by an invisible, giant hand, revealing an abyssal darkness inside.

The fissure finally stopped widening when it was about three to four meters across.

Its edges ceased to ripple, and in that instant, the entire fissure solidified into something almost tangible.

The entrance was open!

A nearby Human Race squad, long since prepared, was the first to move. The seven members stepped through the opening one by one, their figures swallowed by the fissure, leaving no trace behind.

The second and third squads followed.

The waiting teams proceeded in turn, the entire process quiet and orderly.

When it was the Silver Moon Squad’s turn, Anton strode toward the distortion first.

The Elves exchanged a glance, took a deep breath, and followed him.

The instant they stepped through the fissure, their vision was devoured by darkness. The sound of the wind, the distant hum of airships, the feel of gravel underfoot...

In a single moment, all sensation was stripped away, leaving only a cold weightlessness that flooded in from all directions.

It was as if they had been torn from space, root and stem, and hurled into the depths of a void that had no up or down, no left or right, no before or behind.

After an unknown amount of time, their vision cleared.

Anton’s feet touched solid ground.

He surveyed his surroundings. Before him stretched a field of greyish-white.

There was no sun, moon, or stars in the sky, only a dark red energy vortex spiraling slowly in the depths of the firmament, like a congealed whirlpool of blood.

Light seeped from the vortex’s edges, casting an unsettling, eerie, dark-red glow that bathed the entire world in a blood-colored twilight.

The ground was grayish-white. It looked like stone, but treading on it felt like stepping on desiccated bone.

The air was dry and scorching, thick with the smell of sulfur and rust.

Every breath sent a searing heat down his throat and into his lungs, like swallowing a mouthful of hot sand.

”So, this is the Subspace...”

The Great Elder’s voice came from behind, laced with gravity.

Anton turned to see that all the Elves had entered the Subspace. They were standing together, surveying their new environment.

”This dimension really does suppress those without the blood of the Dragon Race. I can feel that the recovery and channeling speed of my Magic Power have both been affected.”

The Third Elder frowned and held out his palm.

A ball of pale golden Magic Power condensed in his palm, but its light appeared a beat slower than usual, and its color was dimmer, as if it had been diluted.

”It’s decreased by... about thirty percent.”

”Same here,” the Great Elder agreed with a nod. ”On top of that, the air is filled with an aura akin to a dragon’s might. Those without the blood of the Dragon Race will feel constant spiritual pressure and must expend extra mental energy to stay focused.”

The Second Elder, Romance, and Cedric exchanged a look and stretched their limbs.

”I don’t feel any effects,” said Romance. ”But the spiritual pressure is definitely real.”

Anton understood.

The Second Elder, Romance, and Cedric cultivated the Eight Desolates Prison-Suppression Scripture. They had long since abandoned Magic Power; their strength stemmed from their qi, blood, and physical bodies, so they were naturally unaffected.

’It seems this place is actually most hospitable to physical-strength cultivators.’

’As for me... ’

Anton focused his senses for a moment and discovered that the circulation and recovery of his Spiritual Qi were also somewhat affected.

The effect was minor, however—a reduction of about ten percent at most.

’It’s probably because Spiritual Qi is denser than Magic Power.’

’This small effect can be offset with Pills. It’s not a problem.’

’And as for the spiritual pressure... ’

’For a Golden Core Cultivator like me who cultivates both spirit and body, this level of pressure is like a gentle breeze. Utterly harmless.’

”Let’s go.” Anton pulled himself from his thoughts and started walking. ”Stay sharp and watch your surroundings.”

The Elves assented and fell in behind him.

Perhaps due to the spatial instability, massive rock formations had broken away from the ground and now floated in midair.

Some hung upside down, others were tilted, and still others rotated, forming a bizarre, multi-layered, three-dimensional terrain.

”A Subspace like this is far less stable than the material world. Even if left to its own devices, it would eventually collapse on its own, wouldn’t it?” the Third Elder remarked thoughtfully, surveying their surroundings.

”That’s true,” the Great Elder agreed. ”But this Subspace is sustained by the vast energy accumulated in the Holy Dragon Mountain Range. Without an external force destroying its spatial nodes, it could last for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. The allied forces can’t afford to wait that long.”

Listening to their conversation, Anton was suddenly reminded of the Subspaces in the Cultivation Realm.

’For instance, Grotto Heavens are self-contained worlds, a type of Subspace.’

’But those Grotto Heavens were usually rich in Spiritual Qi and reinforced by massive clusters of Arrays, making their structures far more stable than this Subspace, which was forcibly torn open by the Dragon Race.’

’Then there are the portable grotto-abodes.’

’Powerful Cultivators use Great Divine Techniques to refine an entire pocket of space into an object as small as a mustard seed, allowing them to carry it with them and enter or exit at will. Those are the most advanced forms of Subspace.’

’In a way, the space inside a Qiankun Bag is also a type of miniature Subspace.’

’The only difference is that it’s dependent on the material plane to exist, cannot operate independently, and cannot hold living creatures.’

’If I get the chance, I should study the Subspaces of the cultivation system more.’

As he was lost in thought, a deafening roar suddenly erupted from above.

The sound was like muffled thunder rolling across the sky, so powerful it made their eardrums ache and caused the very ground beneath their feet to tremble.

Anton’s head snapped up.

Overhead, a dark red energy vortex had appeared out of nowhere.

Countless motes of light streamed from the vortex, floating, converging, and coalescing in the air like fireflies.

In the blink of an eye, a colossal, phantasmal shape began to form in the void.

It was a Giant Dragon, its body over a hundred meters in length.

Its entire body had an ethereal, translucent quality, as if it were a being caught somewhere between solid matter and pure energy.

Its immense body was composed of countless prism-like crystal fragments. Its eyes were two burning spheres of dark red flame, devoid of pupils—containing only endless emptiness and cold.

”A Dragon Soul!”

the Great Elder blurted out, his voice heavy.

The Elves’ gazes hardened, and they tightened their grips on their weapons.