On the roof of the carriage, the old man Brilon began to chant a spell, and spread his arms as if to take the whole plain into his arms.

Lengthy spells spat out of the old man's mouth, and ice-blue magical runes appeared in a ring above his head.

A huge amount of ice elementals converged over the plains, condensing ice clouds.

The temperature plummeted, and the chill swept in. Not only the thieves, but also the guards and mercenaries of their own chamber of commerce couldn't help but shiver.

What a terrible magic!

The icy wind wanders like an elf, and countless tiny snowflakes take shape, dancing to the rhythm of the north wind, sweeping away the autumn mood and replacing it with the extreme cold of deep winter.

The snowflakes grew in size, and the snow, which was once the size of a fingertip, gradually swelled to the size of a goose feather.

The thieves began to realize that something was wrong, and the level of the magic prepared by the old man in front of them seemed to be extraordinary.

In the autumn forest in the distance, the surface of the golden leaves began to cover the surface with a thin layer of snow powder, and the leaves fell in clusters, like pieces of withered white feathers, but they were much colder and heavier than feathers, making the snow wolf thief member shiver.

The forest is dyed.

The boundless coldness of slaughter filled his body, and Ruby under the tree felt his body stiffen, and an unprecedented sense of crisis came to his heart.

On the high mountain, Nero, who was watching the battle, looked up at the snow clouds gathered on the plain, squinted his eyes slightly, with the physique of his dragon vein, he actually felt a little uncomfortable when he was so far away, it can be seen how powerful this magic is?

What kind of spell is it?

[Arctic Blade], [Winter God Ritual], [Cold Domination]... The names of the frost spells came to Nero's mind, but none of them seemed to match the spell in front of him.

Suddenly, Nero seemed to remember something, and his pupils contracted in shock.

"He's a crown magician!"

"It's...[Blizzard]. ”

Hearing Nero's exclamation, Carlson on the side was stunned for a moment, and when he heard the magic word [blizzard], he instantly realized why Nero was shocked.

Carlson's face instantly became extremely ugly, his lips turned pale, and his fat body trembled slightly when he felt the inexplicable chill.

Everyone familiar with Azero's history knows that Winterfell once had an excellent army of mages, each of whom was the best ice mage on the continent.

This group of frost mages wields an extremely terrifying and powerful spell that can summon a massive blizzard, which is where the name of this mage team comes from--- [Blizzard Mage Group].

This spell is a high-level magic that can only be cast alone by the magic of a crown-level mage, and it has a power close to that of a forbidden spell.

But in the hands of the Blizzard Mage Troupe, this magic comes in the form of a joint spell, with dozens of Blizzard mages chanting collectively, using each other's spiritual power resonance to share the magic required to cast the spell.

Through their precise cooperation, the Blizzard Mage Regiment has been invincible on the battlefield for more than three hundred years, and with this spell has earned great prestige, becoming the backbone of the defense of Winterfell.

However, in the night of ten years ago, Winterfell collapsed, and with it, the Blizzard Mage Regiment.

The magic of [Blizzard] has since disappeared from the mainland.

No one could have imagined that today, it would reappear in everyone's eyes.

Looking at the vision of the heavy snow in front of them, all the members of the Chamber of Commerce widened their eyes and looked at the old man standing on the roof of the carriage, as if they were looking at a god.

Ruby drew his sword and shouted, "Don't give him a chance to complete the spell." ”

Blizzard is a powerful magic, but it has one of the most fatal flaws, and that is that it takes a long, very long time to cast.

In a normal duel, a full half an hour of spell casting time is enough for a mage to die countless times.

And the best way to deal with such a spell is to interrupt it during the casting process.

As soon as Ruby's words fell, several extremely swift shadows suddenly flashed near the surrounding carriages, and the bright sword light rushed straight to the carriage like lightning.

The powerful sword qi erupted, smashing the snowflakes into pieces, dozens of silver rays of light flashed away, and the mercenaries who were swept by the sword light fell down one after another holding their throats, and the blood in their throats gushed like springs.

Once again, the situation is precarious.

It was the warriors of the Vismal family who struck, and with a keen sense of battle, they grasped the best time to attack and adopted the most violent methods.

The figures of the samurai weaved through the chaotic flow of people, their movements seemingly chaotic, but they kept their distance from each other in a tacit manner.

As they moved, the surging silver sword qi gathered together and turned into a silver vortex of death, like a meat grinder, spun and rushed through the car formation, and everywhere they went, blood and flesh flew everywhere, and the blood was mixed in the snow, like a cold plum blossom in the snow.

Whether it was a low-level mercenary or a caravan guard with the strength of a high-level knight, they had no time to react in front of this silver vortex that seemed to be able to tear the heavens and the earth apart.

The silver sword vortex sliced through the guards' bodies like pieces of paper, tearing countless blood-stained sword marks on their bodies.

Afterwards, the samurai of the clan would appear beside the seriously injured guards, and they would kill them one by one with expressionless swords.

The seven dragon vein warriors, combined with each other, have such amazing combat power.

The members who can act as the Golden Clover Guards are not weak, but in front of these seven samurai, they are no different from dolls that can be ravaged at will.

The Dragon Vein family is indeed the most combat-savvy collective on this continent.

In the carriage, Freya covered her mouth, and a look of panic appeared on her pretty face.

Natasha tried to stand up, but as soon as she did, the sharp pain in her foot forced her to sit back, and she could only grit her teeth and watch the vortex of death approach.

She is not a fool, of course, she can see that everyone who created this killing storm has a strength far above her, and the combined attack between them is even more subtle to the extreme, in the face of such a terrible cooperation, the martial artists below the Holy Domain have almost no power to fight back.

Who can stop such an adversary?

Just when both Natasha and Freya were in despair, an unexpected figure appeared in front of them, blocking the path of the silver vortex.

Freya's eyes widened, it was actually the young mage named Dean!

What does he want to do?

Could it be that he couldn't see at all that the sword qi vortex in front of him was not something that he could resist as a mid-level mage at all?

Freya closed her eyes, unable to bear to stare at the bloody images that were about to take place.

However, the next moment, the screeching sound of a knife scraping through glass suddenly disappeared.

Freya opened her eyes and saw a scene she couldn't forget.

In the vast snow, Constantine stood with his staff on his staff, several arcane missiles hovering around him, and the arcane spheres that shimmered with purple light were like swaying irises, blooming in the blood-colored battlefield, which was extremely dazzling.