Zhou Yan reaches the main gate, monster hordes thickest here. He stations Ice Tower, Poison Gas Tower, and Blade Tower for defense. Their might shines—especially Ice Tower at level 30, a battlefield reaper.
Ice Tower's blades sweep wide, freezing dozens, even hundreds, into sculptures. These block advancing foes, only to shatter under the next volley, killing more. No monster breaches its range. One tower guards half the gate.
Poison Gas Tower's green clouds fell enemies in droves. Blade Tower's swords dance, cutting swathes. Fearless trial monsters charge blindly, becoming souls under the towers' wrath.
"No breaches," Zhou Yan sighs, relieved. "Zhang San, command here. I'll check elsewhere."
"Yes, Lord!" Zhang San salutes.
At the right wall, Earthquake Tower—a khaki pyramid—spins, emitting light. Waves crack the earth, swallowing monsters into chasms that seal shut, leaving no trace. "Burial tower," Zhou Yan chuckles, outdoing even Feng Baobao. Flame Tower aids it, scorching foes.
The left pairs Storm Tower with Flame Tower. Si Teng and Hua Yuerong, eyes alight, wait idly—towers hold firm.
"Too easy," Zhou Yan muses. Only his Heavenly Court, with its many potent towers, fights so effortlessly. Soldiers barely act.
"My demon sword's starving," Si Teng gripes, itching to charge.
"Violent little demon," Zhou Yan grins. "No breakfast yet. While towers hold, pick spirit fruits."
"I'll go," Hua Yuerong volunteers, taking sisters to the Spirit Fields.
"Plant the seeds back," Zhou Yan calls.
"Got it, Lord," she replies.
On the left, Zhen Mi, bored, lobs ice shards at distant monsters. Her warlock range shines. Bows exist in the Treasure Room, but most prefer melee—save her.
"Monsters won't break through soon," she smiles, radiant as spring.
Zhou Yan nods, heading to the Mystery Store. Larger territory lengthens travel; better floor tiles, ticket-locked, wait. Inside, five blueprints greet him:
[Item: Secret Power Ring Blueprint]
[Quality: Bronze]
[Requirements: 2 Black Iron Ore, 1 Mithril]
[Price: 20,000 spirit coins]
"Jewelry blueprint?" Zhou Yan marvels. Gear's scarce, jewelry rarer—none sell. This could flood the market, priced as he pleases, even tenfold. "Low materials, but no mithril."
He searches the trading hall. Many offer mithril, but one in the International Trading Hall lists heaps—anonymously, likely foreign. Zhou Yan sends a friend request, unblocked.
[Territory Prompt: "You and Child of the God of Luck - Pakistan are friends."]
"Pakistan?" Zhou Yan smiles. Shenlong Country and Pakistan share visa-free ties and projects—staunch allies.
The friend, seeing Zhou Yan's nationality, writes, "Greetings from Pakistan to Shenlong friends."
"Hi, old mate!" Zhou Yan replies. "Straight to business—your mithril."
"Thrilled to trade with Shenlong," they respond. "What's your offer?"
"All your mithril," Zhou Yan says.