Ilda and the other grey-robed elves returned just in time. While the elven and half-elf spellcasters were busy saving the Grey Ridge, the snake people emerged from the Starlight River, arriving a little earlier than Dermon had expected, the Administrator's animal companions screaming sharply alerting him to an enemy attack - but that didn't give the Administrator and his people much time to prepare, they were less than twenty, and the number of weapons was less than outnumbered.

The two giants jumped off the suspended platform and pushed it towards the river, they were heavy and massive, the slow-flowing Starlight River could not lift their legs, the inhabitants of Grey Ridge shot the few arrows they had, the orcs and ogres tumbled off the platform and fell into the shallow water, the stench of blood polluted the clear water, not a single arrow missed, but the enemy was still three times as large as them after the loss.

Elves and half-elves could retreat into the maple woods, using the complex terrain and the help of plants to fight their enemies, but not now, they couldn't leave behind the mages who were preoccupied with manipulating the twin flames.

The main force of the attack was ogres, half-ogres and half-orcs, who roared over the slippery riverbank, wielding axes, flails, hammers, and spiked clubs, one half-elf had his head crushed in the initial encounter, while the other was cut in half, while the others were almost besieged by two, three, and more enemies, and the half-orcs and ogres with crossbows and bows climbed the cracked maple trees to shorten the distance between them and the caster, to compensate for their poor skill and slow movements. One of the apprentices was unfortunate enough to be shot in the leg and he fell, and he was about to fall into the golden-red flames, but he cleverly and calmly used a trick to move his body out of the flames, but that didn't mean he could survive, and several ogres pounced, and the screams he let out as he was torn apart shook the entire Grey Ridge.

The giants' paws rumbled against the ground, and they kicked away the weak creatures that happened to intrude into their vision and path, but did not linger for their wails and blood—an act that was not quite in line with their old habits—and the mages of Demon, considering their tiny heads, which were completely disproportionate to their large bodies, cast a small spell in advance, lest they become so indulged in killing that they forget the true, better reward.

Mithril.

The wide Starlight River runs through the entire Silvercrown Forest, and the delicate pinnate leaves and withered branches of the Silvercrown Tree fall into the river, and the nutritious parts are eaten by the insects, small aquatic creatures and fish of the river, leaving the hard, inedible parts, the precious metals, which will be carried away by the river (which is why it is called the Starlight River), but more will be deposited in the gentle flats and hollows, which is the source of Grayridge's greatest wealth.

The elves weren't good at mining, and they didn't need to, and the Mithril that the Starlight River had brought was enough for them to trade everything they needed.

The giants cut down the cracked maple trees, or uprooted them outright, and greedily destroyed and scavenged the dwellings of elves and half-elves that once hung high in the air like humans search birds' nests, they were not so afraid of ordinary fire, their skin was thicker than that of an elephant or a rhinoceros, and they were covered with a thick layer of dirt and dust, and Damun's mentor gave them a bottle of grease that could resist the burning of the flames of negative energy, and as soon as they came ashore, they applied it to every part of their bodies, and the transparent flames retreated a few inches away from them。

They found so many good things - whether they were elves or halves, they had no concept of burglary, all the precious things were left directly outside, at most a lockless chest and cabinet, and in addition to bags of Mithril sand, they also found longswords, short swords and daggers made of Mithril and pure gold, bows and arrows, gemstone ornaments, Mithril chain mail, a silk shirt that looked tough and light (not burned by the fire!). And all sorts of delicate little bottles of powder and liquid, which they didn't know what they were, but also put in their own leather bags.

One of the giants found a small point of astrolabe, the kind of two hundred sons, inlaid with sapphires and mythril, and equipped with a rose compass of thirty-two directions, decorated with four colors of tourmaline, and he gestured and thought it would be perfect for a dinner plate, but before he could put it in his leather bag, an invisible arrow shattered it, and cut his finger.

The giant howled, threw down the astrolabe and drew his axe, which was large enough to cover an elf's entire chest.

A mage gestured to his exhausted companion to take his place, and the latter smiled gratefully, the god of life testifying that he had few spells in his memory and that his flying spell was about to fail, and he safely hid in a hidden and safe place, clinging to the next spell in his hand, observing the situation on the battlefield.

The whole situation was reversed by Ilda's return. It's a peculiar team, and the manager of Greyridge thinks as he cuts the neck of a half-orc, he can't see the caster, not even a human—normally, the team that dares to attack Greyridge won't be purely non-human, because their brains are always not so adequate, and they can easily get caught up in hopeless confusion—so that the elves can find every chance to break through.

But there are so many of them.

Unless the person has already thought of it, only the living will go back and ask him for a gratuity.

The administrator of Grey Ridge took a heavy breath, the scorching smoke made him cough, barely dodging an ogre's spike stick, and his animal companion, a strong sparrowhawk, landed on the ogre's face, its claws digging deep into his nose and eye sockets, and the elven's sword pierced his chest as the ogre tried to take it off.

The lich's flying spell had also reached the end of time, and he descended slowly and vigilantly holding on to the fissure maple tree, and his place was also taken by a mage who had just returned to Grey Ridge, the disguised grey robe did not use spells to fight back, of course, have you ever seen a shapeshifter mage? So almost all of the spells they remembered were still there, and they were all dangerous offensive spells, after all, they thought they were going to deal with a sinister and powerful grey robe.

With the addition of new powers, the firebreak that the lich wanted was quickly opened, as he said before, lightning and corrosive spells can also play an unimaginable role, the trees are burning, and the part below the trees has been lifted for more than ten feet, and blue and white phosphorus fires can still be seen in the deepest places, but they are all very weak, after all, the vitality that insects can provide is too little.

The fire of negative energy, surrounded by real flames, screamed like a vicious cub trapped - it hadn't grown up and wouldn't grow again.

The light and heat cast by the flames were so staggering that no one noticed that the dawn had passed and the morning light was about to re-illuminate and warm the place - except for the Lich, as a spellcaster, especially after such misfortune (Otherworldly Soul: Hey!), he was simply sensitive to time to the point of fingering - in fact, sometimes he was even more accurate than the magic pendant.

He also had two spells, and the lich put his hands in his sleeves, considering whether to keep them or use them - the battle around him was over, and after about one hundred and twenty, he would return to the sea of knowledge, a body that would be controlled and dominated by another soul.

The former undead could be said to have comfortably folded his arms, and he noticed that Ilda was fighting a giant.

The giant wielded a rare double-headed hammer, howling lingua franca like "Knock, smash, kill!" while chasing the swift shadow of the female elf with his hammer - it looked a lot like "whack-a-mole", a game that otherworldly spirits had ever played on a computer, only far more cruel and bloody than that - the two sides were unevenly matched, and Ilda would have been completely "" It was difficult for her to inflict any real damage on the giant, and her sharp sword had made many bloody cuts on the giant's body, both on the arms, on the legs, and on the body, but these wounds could not slow the giant down even a little, and every blow he gave was as heavy as the first time.

It was a fifteen-foot tall fellow, the lich thought, the spell he remembered was no threat to the clumsy stupid fellow, but he might be able to warn Ilda.

Ilda gasped, she was tired, sweat salted her tender eyes, but the enemy in front of her made her dare not relax at all, she rolled on the ground, dodging the giant's hammer, the wind brought by the hammer blew through her pointed ears, and the ears snapped forward, and the pain was so severe that she screamed impatiently.

She thought the giant would take advantage of the opportunity to stomp or kick her, but until she was able to get back to her feet, the giant remained in place.

He bowed his head and examined the leather bag in his waist, and at that moment the leather bag was tugged again, and it was very obvious that the giant cried out in anger, and he grasped the leather bag with one hand, and looked around to find the little thief who had the audacity to try to get his hands on his property.

Ilda laughed, she didn't have to look to know who was playing tricks on the poor big man, mischievous Cremar, and gave her a brilliant idea—she adjusted her breath and rushed at the giant again, this time with confidence, unlike the previous times.

She didn't attack the giant's body, her sword just swept lightly across his waist, severing the link between the leather pouch and the giant's belt.

The pouch fell to the ground, the giant roared, and he bent down to pick it up—clumsy and heavy, and as he grabbed the bag, Ilda's sword stabbed through his armpit, and she pushed forward until the blade sank into the giant's body completely, and she was close enough to faint from the stench of the giant's armpits.

The giant tried to get to his feet, but failed, and the sword stabbed into his fat heart, so that every beat of it crushed itself, and he smashed straight to the ground along with his hammer.

The author has something to say: There is another chapter, which is relatively late, you can come and see it early tomorrow morning - thank you again for your support to me, and your collection!

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