Chapter 759: Restless Blizzard Haters

The war... was over...

The veil of night fell quietly.

The hills upon the battlefield resembled a cluster of burial mounds, where tattered black banners and snapped blades spoke volumes of the conflict's sheer brutality.

Dried blood had soaked through the armor, staining the earth crimson.

A lingering stroke of twilight's blood-red hue remained on the horizon, encircled by an encroaching, endless dark.

All was bound in silence, save for a few crows circling in the sky.

A handful of paladins set foot upon this battlefield, desolate and chillingly cold.

One by one, the previously fallen warriors of the elves, dwarves, and orcs slowly awakened across this barren expanse under the radiance of the Holy Light, trembling uncontrollably as they looked around.

Helen warily overturned the corpse of a Shadow Legion soldier, revealing a countenance entirely distinct from that of humans, elves, or dwarves.

They were all like this.

There were even species recorded in ancient texts that had long since gone extinct.

One could scarce imagine what manner of power could draw them together to forge an army so mighty and fierce.

"Have you noticed..." Commander Evan's expression darkened slightly, "every single one of them fell in battle; almost none died in retreat."

It was as though they truly possessed no fear of death.

A collective shiver ran through the crowd; if that were truly the case...

Human beings were inherently bound by fear, and without the spell of resurrection, none would dare face such an army.

Fewer still would dare claim an easy victory.

They could not help but feel fortunate that this nightmarish legion had finally been obliterated.

The priests waved their staffs, casting down flecks of golden light, their faces bright with the smiles of survivors who had cheated death.

Only at this moment did they dare to cry aloud: "We... have won!"

"We won!" Helen echoed, raising her knightly sword high into the air.

Gradually, the cheers resounded across the wilderness.

At this time, Owner Fang was just returning from the northern reaches of the Orc Kingdom, accompanied by a vast throng of elves, dwarves, and other races.

Before he could even process what was happening, he was seized by the crowd within minutes and tossed high into the sky.

"Oh—!"

"Ah—!"

They cheered to their hearts' content, savoring the beauty of this moment to the fullest.

The frame froze, as if transforming into an eternal painting.

"Did you catch it? Did you catch it?" several elves asked, holding the new-model communication jades they had purchased online.

"Let me see, let me see!" They hastily crowded together to look.

On the screen, Owner Fang, suspended mid-air, wore a face utterly devoid of any desire to live.

...

Meanwhile, at the Summit of Nations.

"How is it!?" Everyone stared with burning intensity at the magical projection operated by the mage brigade.

"It is ready, it is ready!" Hermadon, drenched in sweat after tempering with the device for ages, finally brought the imagery to life once more.

"Where are the people?"

"Did we win?"

"It seems so..."

Even Princess Isabella was dazed for a long while before finally snapping out of it.

"Just like that, we won!?" What manner of power was that just now?

Sunlight?

Why did it look so much like our own?

What on earth happened?

...

The perspective of the magical projection shifted back to the battlefield of the Lianshan Principality.

"They are here!"

Within the projection, a roaring tide of cheers shook the air.

The dwarves and elves stood up from their seats one after another, looking at everyone within the magical projection: "I believe this is an event worthy of everyone's celebration!"

They too were infected by the atmosphere: "They are all heroes!"

Only Saint Duran and his peers from the Judgment Temple still had that phrase echoing in their minds, transmitted from the Continent of Immortal Relics: A bunch of noobs, do not come back next time...

A bunch of noobs...

Everyone turned flushed with embarrassment.

Most importantly, whether they could have achieved victory in the end no longer mattered, even if they could.

The current situation was that they had ordered a retreat, while this so-called "rabble" had won.

How could they refute that?

A wave of suffocating frustration lodged itself in their chests, threatening to make them burst.

"Who dares order a retreat next time!" Princess Isabella glared at Saint Duran and Sword Saint Cleos, slamming the table in the grand hall until it thudded loudly, "They shall face military law!"

Sword Saint Cleos's heart skipped a beat, and he whispered, "Your Excellency Duran, what... do we do now?"

Saint Duran replied, "From this moment on, no one is to speak of this matter again! Time will gradually wash everything away."

By reducing big problems into small ones and small ones into nothing, this matter would naturally pass.

Scarcely had Saint Duran finished speaking.

Over on the "Eye of the Secret Realm" magic forum.

"With such a major event happening, those Blizzard fanboys used to brag so much about how incredible the practical combat in the World of Warcraft secret realm was... and now, not a single one of them participated?" Within a somewhat cluttered alchemy lab, a mage with slightly disheveled hair and a somewhat chubby build enthusiastically bumped a post from a few days ago titled, "The grandsons of Blizzard fanboys better hurry up and clean up their fathers' mess."

"I think we can stir this up into something bigger," a Blizzard hater suggested beneath the post. "Taking advantage of this opportunity to expand public opinion, we might just have a chance to eliminate this 'Blizzard Workshop'."

"How much hatred do you have?" a passing noble who had remained neutral replied, unable to watch any longer.

"An apologist arrived? An Origin Crusader?" Within that rather messy alchemy lab, the mage and low-level employee of the "Crystal Stone Workshop," Sam, scratched his tangled hair and took a deep breath. His morale surged as if pumped with adrenaline; under such an overwhelming trend, someone actually dared to voice a differing opinion? Tag him as an Origin Crusader first!

"Spending your parents' hard-earned money to play such mind-numbing things, does anyone playing World of Warcraft right now dare to go to the battlefield? It has been days, is there even a single piece of battlefield news related to them?"

"A few days ago, Master Os and Master Live posted several threads stating that under the guidance of the Radiant God Nation, we have entered a comprehensive advantage! The warriors of the Radiant God Nation were all trained in the military secret realms of the 'Duran Workshop'!"

"Just this morning, our Radiant God Nation even ran a report saying the war situation is excellent, and there is no need to worry."

"Those who use that kind of secret realm are probably just addicted to the scenery and casual gameplay inside. How could they have the mindset to do actual work?"

"They probably would not even be wanted for logistics."

"Do you truly believe a piece of garbage dungeon like 'World of Warcraft', which misleads the youth, still has any reason to exist? It is a malignant tumor!"

No sooner had the passing noble published his remarks than a succession of message replies immediately erupted below.

Seeing that the passing noble offered no further response, Sam the Mage finally allowed a smirk of gratification to surface.

"I believe we should compile a relevant account of the truth and post it across the various magic forums." Mage Gian was a die-hard loyalist of the "Duran Workshop," behaving as though he had just performed a highly sacred deed.

Look at that! If we bring down this "Origin Internet Club" and "Blizzard Workshop," they will surely be grateful to me.

Perhaps by then, Her Highness the Princess will even become aware of this matter!

Yet I require no gratitude; I shall remain a perfectly humble man.

He thought this way, brimming with conceit and pride.

Soon enough, other magic forums began to be overrun by these Blizzard haters as well.

Because over these past few days, only a few indignant passersby had stepped forward to speak a few words on their behalf, the discourse on the magic forums had collapsed into a completely one-sided affair.

Just then, Sam the Mage suddenly received a message notification, only to see that someone had replied beneath his forum post: "So sorry, but the regular army you speak of has fled, while those who cannot even handle logistics, whom you speak of, have saved the world."

The signature read Tience.

This immediately drew a large crowd of replies:

"!!??"

"Just opening your mouth and spouting nonsense? Just you people?"

"After all, one does not need to take responsibility for speaking on a forum."

"Can the words of a forum pet be trusted?"

"Go to sleep, you can have everything in your dreams."

.