The Sewing Puppet.
The Sewing Puppet was a palm-sized cloth doll. The left half was male, and the right half was female. Its body was covered with sewing marks and threads. It was black, and there were traces of blood everywhere. There was only one eye painted with blood on its head.
Once the Sewing Puppet was successfully refined, it would always be surrounded by three prisoner Soul Guards. This was also its only means of attack.
The three prisoner Soul Guards were incorporeal and could not be touched by physical attacks. Every time they passed through the target's body, they could take away a part of the target's soul and seal it in the Sewing Puppet's body.
When the soul fragments reached a certain number, the Sewing Puppet could activate the Spirit Possession Spell and occupy the target's body for a short time. The success rate of the Spirit Possession Spell was related to the gap between the Sewing Puppet and the target's spiritual power. The stronger the target's spiritual power, the lower the success rate. If the target's spiritual power was twice that of the Sewing Puppet, the Spirit Possession Spell would be ineffective!
Putting down the Knowledge Crystal, Grim analyzed it and could not help but sigh at the vastness and strangeness of the magic world. The combat ability of such a puppet was not strong, but it was extremely strange and unpredictable. If one did not have the corresponding means to deal with it, it would be easy to be taken down silently.
And this Knowledge Crystal should have come from the hands of a profession called Soul Master.
Soul Masters were not a race, but a special profession.
They could be any race, any life form, and the specialty of their profession was to divide souls to create all kinds of strange Soul Slaves. These soul fragments cut from their own souls had a close connection with them that could not be separated by any magic, and they never had to worry about betrayal.
The slaves made from soul fragments were incorporeal, so they could ignore all physical defenses and directly attack the enemy's soul and spiritual consciousness. Moreover, the Soul Slaves were originally one with them, so they could command them as if they were their own arms. Even if they were separated by a long distance, they would not feel sluggish.
However, this kind of slave also had an obvious weakness. Once it was destroyed, it would cause damage to the Soul Master's soul, and it would take a long time to recover. If too many Soul Slaves were destroyed by the enemy at once, the Soul Master might also face the danger of soul collapse and spiritual consciousness perishing.
Therefore, like the two sides of a blade, safety and danger coexisted!
At the end of the Knowledge Crystal, there was, of course, the method to create the Sewing Puppet and the Spirit Possession Ritual. With Grim's current ability and strength, he could definitely do it. Therefore, after hesitating for a while, Grim put the Knowledge Crystal into his pocket and began to calculate the cost-effectiveness of the Sewing Puppet.
… …
The Swamp of Sorrow.
Dirty swamps and puddles were next to each other.
Looking into the distance, all he could see was this kind of muddy land filled with dark silt and stinking black water. His line of sight was blocked by layers of thick mist, making it difficult for him to see far away.
The swamp was thick, and the swamp was covered.
The swamp was the Of the Puppet Puppet. was Puppet of the Sea. a Puppet.
Every pool in the Swamp of Sorrows could be home to some cunning lurkers. They lurked quietly in the dirty, muddy water, waiting for their prey to come to them.
The bottom of these swamps were connected by narrow, dirty waterways. This allowed them to change their hiding spots and retreat silently. The prey could only sense the approaching danger the moment they opened their bloody mouths and pounced on them.
A loud crashing sound broke the silence of the world.
A thick dragon leg covered in scales stepped into a puddle of water, causing a huge splash and specks of mud to splash up.
"Damn it …"
Asa the Drakonid struggled to pull his front leg out while cursing loudly.
His loud voice could travel very far in the silent swamp, but Asa didn't care.
Because he was a Dragonborn!
In the entire Lance Plane, if the dragon lords were high and mighty monarchs, then the servants who served the dragons were nobles of high and low statuses. Draconians were unquestionably the strongest warriors, the harshest tax collectors, and the most impartial and selfless law enforcers in any region of Lance and in front of any native races.
No native would dare to offend a noble Dragonborn, even if he was just a common Dragonborn warrior or Dragonborn scout. As for ambushing a Dragonborn, it was a heinous crime that could lead to the extinction of an entire tribe!
That was why Asa, a Dragonborn scout, wasn't worried at all even though he was in the relatively unfamiliar Swamp of Sorrow. Instead, he went against the scout code and made a noise that he shouldn't have.
Oddly enough, the Drakonid scout Asa had created such a tremendous noise, but not only was he not attacked by the lurking swamp creatures around him, they were instead panicked and dove into the depths, slipping away along the complicated, twisting waterways.
Looking at the series of bubbles bubbling in the muddy swamp, the Dragonborn scout Asa's thin and long face showed a ferocious smile.
Dragging his huge and heavy body, Asa swiftly swam along the relatively firm mud path.
In order to survive in the Swamp of Sorrow, one must have the ability to identify which patch of mud could be passed through, even if it was a swamp underneath. Otherwise, it would be a mockery for Asa who used to be a scout to be stuck in the mud at every turn.
Seventy-five miles behind him, a massive Dragonborn army was marching out majestically.
Asa, as a Drakonid scout, had to clear any possible ambushes along the way, as well as drive away the wild swamp creatures that didn't have eyes so that they wouldn't disturb the Drakonid Legion's advance.
In fact, in the plane of Lance, those who would dare ambush the Dragonborn army hadn't even been born yet. In Asa's memory, the last time he was ambushed was more than thirty years ago.
A certain lizardman lad who went mad because he couldn't afford the heavy taxes rashly attacked a Dragonborn tax collector, throwing a lump of mud at him. Hence, in that area, any creature that could walk upright, be it lizardmen or kobolds, were slaughtered by the Dragonborn.
Since then, wherever the Dragonmen went, all the native tribes would flee in panic, deeply afraid that they would accidentally offend these noble Dragonmen.
That was why Dragonborn scouts didn't have to pay attention to native tribes who were scared out of their wits, but the many wild magical creatures.
They were ignorant and powerful, and they didn't have enough intelligence to distinguish which creatures they could provoke and which creatures they couldn't. That was why Asa was mainly responsible for chasing them away!
After advancing another three miles in the dark, hot, and damp swamp, Asa suddenly stopped.
No … Something's not right here!
It was quiet, far quieter than it had been in the past. Even the soft sounds of vipers slithering over rotting leaves and leeches spitting bubbles in the turbid sewage were no longer audible.
The entire swamp area was filled with an unprecedented deathly stillness. It was as if all the living things here had suddenly died.
Death …
The moment that word appeared in his mind, Asa sensed that something wasn't right beneath him.
He quickly shifted two steps horizontally, crouching and lowering his head, only to realize in horror that he had been hit.
A faintly discernible gray mist rose from the puddle beneath him, dyeing the dense scales on Asa's lower body gray. As the gray mist increased and thickened, the speed of its corrosion increased, rapidly spreading towards Asa's upper body.
What is this?
Poison? Living creature? Or some bizarre ability of magical creatures?
Even as his mind raced, Asa's years of training as a Dragonborn scout urged him to quickly flee the gray mist. When he reached a nearby muddy path, Asa bellowed lowly, the scales on his body bursting with dazzling fiery light.
The Dragonborn's powerful physique granted him outstanding magical resistance, and ordinary poisons couldn't inflict fatal damage on him. That was why, after escaping the enemy's trap, Asa began to raise his strength and prepare for a counterattack.
But when he furiously urged the blood in his body, a tremendous dizziness shrouded his mind.
Asa staggered a few steps, almost falling.
The dragon's legs that were as thick and sturdy as stone pillars were now trembling, no longer able to support his massive and heavy body.
Damn it, what poison is this that's so powerful …
Asa bellowed wildly once more. He raised the heavy metal axe in his hand, intending to unleash a violent fireball to alert the Dragonborn army behind him.
Unfortunately, just as it stood up shakily and raised its axe high, a thin and withered black figure vaguely appeared in the hazy and illusory mist in front of it.
"Lie down! Be good and lie down! You'd better lie down now that you've met me, Poison Centipede … "
In the very next second, as if the black silhouette's curse had succeeded, a sharp pain gathered in all his limbs and bones, instantly breaking Asa's consciousness.
There was a loud clang.
The metal axe fell to the ground, and the Dragonborn scout's massive body slowly collapsed, kicking up a puddle of foul water that was even bigger and putrid.
Having dealt with the Grade 1 Dragonborn scout, Poison Centipede Endor wobbled his withered body to the Dragonborn and simply grabbed it, extracting most of the poison from its body. Still, she left a portion of the poison lingering in the Dragonborn's skull so that it wouldn't wake up easily.
"Men … Carry it back!"
Poison Centipede Endor's voice was not loud, but it instantly caused an uproar in the surrounding environment.
In a few large quagmires within his sight, dirty water and mud splashed everywhere. More than a dozen huge engineering machines crawled out of the quagmires and gathered here with heavy steps.
Under the command of a gnome technician who was perched on top of an open machine, the machines swarmed forward, lifting the unconscious Dragonborn and sprinting deeper into the mist.
Meanwhile, Poison Centipede Endor looked up at the direction where the Dragonborn scout came from, his aged and gloomy face.
"That female Flaming Dragon's attack is so fast! Looks like I'll have to fight them in the Swamp of Sorrows … "
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