A violent surge of energy formed a massive vortex around the book, tearing at space, yet unable to budge it in the slightest.

The four wise men were shrouded in the thick, inky shadow cast by the books. Their gray robes fluttered in the surging energy, but their faces beneath the hoods showed no sign of panic.

Time seemed to stretch out.

That emerald torrent, powerful enough to obliterate even the pinnacle of legend, was ultimately swallowed up completely by the Abyss Scripture, like a clay ox sinking into the sea.

The turned pages slowly closed, the vertical pupils closed contentedly, leaving only a chilling abyssal aura that briefly overwhelmed the decaying smell of the Eternal Rest Palace.

Dead silence.

An even greater deathly silence enveloped the Palace of Eternal Rest.

The three decaying auras inside the hall fluctuated violently, like a punctured ball, revealing unbelievable horror.

"No...impossible!" An aged voice screamed for the first time, filled with a tremor that seemed to come from the depths of its soul. "The Abyss Scripture?! This blasphemous thing...how could it have reappeared in the world?!"

"Who...who are you people?!" another voice demanded hoarsely, the previous rage replaced by immense fear.

The very existence of this sacred text represents a terrifying dark cloud capable of overturning the continent!

The Church of the Abyss only appeared briefly for ten years at the end of the period when the churches of the gods were fighting each other.

During those ten years, wherever someone wielding the Abyss Scripture appeared, that area would inevitably fall into a state similar to the Abyss Demon Realm!

Those who fall into this trap may even be directly devoured by a higher-ranking demon god!

After a brief silence, from among the four gray figures came the whispered, slightly amusement-tinged mental voice of "Dream Weaver" Campbell. The voice wasn't loud, but it clearly pierced through the heavy palace doors, like a cold, venomous snake burrowing into the depths of the three elders' consciousness:

"Ha... As expected, even a decaying skeleton is so powerless to wield its claws."

He paused, the mockery in his laughter almost solidifying:

"His Holiness the Abyss Saint is absolutely right. You three old geezers are indeed... nearing your end."

Campbell's venomous sarcasm echoed in the deathly silence, like a pebble thrown into an ancient well, creating only brief ripples.

It was then swallowed up by a deeper silence that carried the scent of decay.

Inside the Hall of Eternal Rest, the three epic auras that had been fluctuating violently due to the appearance of the Abyss Scripture now seemed to be frozen in a cold pool, falling into a strange stagnation.

There was no expected furious retaliation, nor any further questioning; only a suffocating silence.

This silence, like thick asphalt, not only enveloped the palace but also weighed heavily on the hearts of the four wise men outside.

Time passed little by little.

No new energy surged from the cracks in the palace doors; only the oppressive aura, a mixture of decay and fear, stubbornly lingered above the palace.

Like the final gasp of a dying beast, it has the appearance of power but cannot conceal its inner weakness.

But this silence itself is the most effective way to delay.

The shadow beneath Serantia's hood rippled slightly, and his eerie whispers, usually so capable of stirring emotions, carried a rare hint of anxiety:

"They're stalling for time! These three old ghosts... don't dare to come out or make another move. They're just trying to wear us down with this lifeless tortoise shell!"

The "Dream Weaver" Campbell's mental fluctuations were equally chilling: "The Heart of the Elf is right beneath our feet! Are we really going to be blocked at the door by these three old geezers who are barely clinging to life? His Highness the Holy Son's mission cannot fail!"

His deep gaze swept over the projection of the heavy book—the Abyss Scripture—that hovered above the four people's heads, emanating a chilling abyssal aura.

The slowly undulating vertical pupils on the cover seemed to be silently yearning for more.

The enormous eye pattern on the cloak of "Lamplighter" Farren flashed with an eerie light, and his ability to pierce through illusions allowed him to clearly see the three auras within the hall—their bluster masking their underlying weakness and their decaying, decaying forms.

His icy voice was like two pieces of metal rubbing together:

"Since they're blocking the way, then let's clear away these rotten trees and withered bones that are stubbornly occupying the spring for these elves! The Holy Son's projection of the Holy Scripture still has two more uses of power, enough to send them to their eternal slumber!"

He didn't use telepathy at all; instead, he loudly told the other three wise men his plan.

A dark light shone brightly in Campbell's eyes. Serantia's whispers transformed into invisible mental spikes, attempting to pierce the temple gates. Langustu's silent force field also quietly tightened, preparing to activate in conjunction with the Holy Scripture.

The deathly silence inside the hall was finally broken.

"Arrogant!"

"presumptuous!"

"How dare you ants like you!!"

Three aged, hoarse voices, filled with shock and anger, erupted almost simultaneously from inside the hall, like a broken gong being struck by a heavy hammer, brimming with offended rage and a hint of barely perceptible panic.

That decaying pressure surged forth again like a tidal wave, attempting to suppress the four people outside the hall once more, but it lost its initial purity and seemed more like a bluff.

"So what if it's the Abyss Codex?! It's nothing but a projection!" a voice roared, its tone fierce but its voice weak. "We are the epic of the elves! How dare you desecrate us?! Leave the Temple of Eternal Slumber immediately! Otherwise... otherwise you will incur our thunderous wrath, shake the entire continent, and die without a burial place!"

Another voice followed, shouting in a condescending, commanding tone, but limiting the scope to the palace entrance:

"Get out! Disturbing our slumber is a capital offense. If you persist in your delusion, don't blame us for disregarding elven rules and crushing you and this blasphemous book together here!"

The outward strength but inner weakness in that voice was so obvious that even the most obtuse person outside the hall could tell.

They didn't even dare to say "leave the Elf Forest," but only dared to ask the four wise men to "leave the Temple of Eternal Sleep."

It's as if as long as the other party retreats to the steps outside the palace, they can maintain their pitiful and laughable dignity and continue to play dead in their "nest".

Farrell's lips, hidden beneath his hood, seemed to curl into a cold smile, a contemptuous expression of utter disdain for this dying struggle.

Without another word, he stretched out a hand covered with a gray cloth and pressed it down hard on the suspended Abyss Scripture!

"Hmph! Since you're courting death, don't blame me!" Farren's voice was as cold as ice in the abyss, resolute and decisive. "Attack! Send these three old ghosts... on their way!"

As he spoke, the suspended Abyss Scripture suddenly erupted with an even deeper darkness than when it had devoured the Light of Annihilation!

The enormous vertical pupil on the cover suddenly opened to its limit, and countless twisted, painful, and shrieking abyssal demonic shadows emerged from the depths of the pupil!

The pages flipped wildly, making a chilling rustling sound, as if millions of vengeful spirits were howling between the pages.

One after another, jet-black runes composed of the laws of chaos, filth, and devouring shot out from the flipping pages of the book, intertwining and entwining like living things.