Electromagnetic waves, invisible to the naked eye, covered the entire area, and under their effects, the water molecules in the bodies of the benthic demon fish and the strange ones began to vibrate violently.

In an instant, they all felt "blood boiling", and it was the literal one.

Then, it was as if someone had stuffed a large amount of explosives into the body and then detonated it. One by one, the guys "bang, bang, bang, bang", each piece of flesh turned into its own talisman.

The six members of the Seven Cheeks, led by Toplo, all did their best to cast spells to save their lives. They fought against Snead's legendary spells as they desperately moved beyond the area of electromagnetic radiation.

"Get ready for teleportation spells," the benthic mobs communicated efficiently through psychic abilities, "and we'll ...... when we're out of range of that half-lich spell."

"Escape" or "strategic shift" doesn't matter. Because before they could get to that word, a new danger suddenly appeared in their heads.

With a whistling that tore through the air, at least two dozen shells loaded with time-delay fuses scattered on the heads of the benthic mobs. And this is only the first round of test firing, just to warm up the barrel.

More than seventy hell roars lined up on the dam in the distance, and busy heterogeneous privates methodically completed the work of wiping the chambers, filling the gunpowder, and calibrating the elements. And Quis stood beside them, in the artillery position of his choice.

He'd thought of it all for a long time: the benthic devilfish would rout, run, and run headfirst into the half-lich Sneijder's spell enchantment, only to become the target of Hell's Roar Flames as a slowed retreat.

All he had to do was say, "Pour as much ammunition as you please." ”

Brilliant fires ignited in clusters around the benthic mobfish, and the loud noises and shockwaves from the explosion soared into the sky, and sharp fragments of shrapnel flew wildly...... Eventually, death can come in the right place.

It is true that as a high-level monster that has ruled the oceans of the island world for tens of thousands of years, the benthic devilfish is actually not without heritage. It's just that after experiencing the battle with the robbers, being raided by the alliance army, and being baked by the microwave enchantment, they have lost all their hole cards.

The psychic abilities and sorcery that he prides himself on can't hide the fact that he isn't physically strong. When faced with the scene of cannonballs pasting their faces, they may not have those low-level monsters to carry it.

For example, those who now look like steamed crabs and have turned orange all over their bodies, relying on their thick carapaces, might even get a hellish roar if they're lucky.

As their masters, even if the Seven Glins Councilors are strong in magic, as long as they are grazed by a cannonball, they will become as if they have been gnawed by a giant shark. To make matters worse, if they were hit by a cannon, the benthic motfish would immediately take a heavy hit.

Cannonballs and flesh flew together, whistling and howling resonated. After more than a dozen rounds of intensive bombardment, the land was scraped down several inches deep by the shells because of the too many shells that fell, and not a single strange monster still had a body shape.

When the smoke cleared, Quest stepped onto the potholed land. Inside many of the craters, he saw the signature dark blue blood of the benthic mofish. But he didn't see a single fragment of the corpse.

"Clean up the battlefield," Quith said with certainty, glancing back at Sneijder following him, "Don't let any fish slip through the cracks here." The latter's skull, which was made of machinery and gears, shook up and down, and it was kind of agreed.

As the steampunk half-lich began to chant the incantation, the earth was ploughed by cannonballs, and the earth and gravel began to churn. The bones and limited flesh of the monster victims, blown to pieces, slowly converged in one place, as if they were being pulled by invisible threads.

Defying gravity, they floated into a complete "corpse", jagged ribs branching out of the withered corpse's chest, and clusters of churning souls in between. A Soul Prisoner was crafted by a half-lich.

Generally speaking, the conditions for the birth of such undead creatures are harsh - when a demon or evil spellcaster is lost beyond the boundless borders of the multiverse, its (his) undead remains can turn into a wicked soul prisoner.

The undead will then return to the physical world with a twisted body, strange perceptions, and hunger for life, and will inflict terror and pain on all souls with resentment until they are finally destroyed.

But for a half-lich who stands almost at the top of the undead, and who is also a legendary spellcaster, it is much easier to create a Soul Prisoner: sinful souls, broken flesh and bones, flowing blood, painful resentments...... Pinching and pinching made a soul prisoner, or a little assistant.

"There shouldn't be anything that slips through the cracks here," Sneijder repeated his employer's words, and the newly-born but brilliant assistant didn't hesitate to open the ribs on his chest with the palm of his hand.

On its chest, the lilac soul power swirled and swirled, eventually turning into a swirl. Like a humanoid self-propelled vacuum cleaner, the Soul Prisoner walked through the land baptized by artillery fire in earnest, step by step.

Monsters don't have beliefs of their own, and benthic mobs aren't even qualified worshippers. When they die, the soul does not dissipate so easily. So, after the Soul Prisoner had completed its "Soul Snatching" ritual, its chest was covered with clusters of soul flames. If you look closely, you will see the soul imprisoned in the flames.

Compared to those armor monsters, the souls of the benthic demon fish are undoubtedly much stronger, so their soul flames burn very vigorously. These six captured souls, the imprisoned soul demons hung directly on their ribs, like ornaments.

"These miscellaneous fish have finally been reduced to fish meat at this moment......" The half-lich checked the accessories on his assistant's body, and he stretched out one of the fingers of his mechanical prosthetic body, and the power of the erosion suddenly exploded, and he used an enhanced version of the 'Horror Technique' on it at will.

Of course, it wasn't Sneijder's intention to torture the Soul Prisoner - he knew what the assistant was capable of—for some spells that were cast on him, he could deflect them to the imprisoned soul in his body at will.

Hearing the wails coming from those few soul sparks, the steampunk half-lich nodded in satisfaction, "...... And we are knives, mixers, and juicers, squeezing some knowledge and information with a sense of age from these miscellaneous fish. ”

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