Mrs. and Mr. Smith
Chapter 1711

Chapter 1711: Chapter 1711: About to Resurrect Chapter 1711: Chapter 1711: About to Resurrect In just one night, the surrounding dark energy had diminished significantly.

Even Ethan Smith was a bit shocked by the speed of this change.

Thankfully, by early the next morning, the dark energy in the area had intensified again, making it less likely to draw attention.

“No wonder this is the North Plain,” Ethan said with a sigh.

Just then, he froze, as if something struck him.

“The dark energy of the North Plain… Why is it so terrifying?” Ethan muttered to himself.

*His mind couldn't help but remember the words spoken by Forrest Middleton.*

*At the start of the Great Upheaval, dark energy would inevitably dissipate, suffering a strong blow.*

*And yet, the North Plain remained entirely unaffected. So, was the North Plain actually an ancient battlefield or the burial ground of a formidable cultivator?*

*Besides these two possibilities, what else could escape such an upheaval's impact?*

At this thought, Ethan lowered his head to look at the ground.

This was a snow-covered land, its expanse frozen over for who knows how long.

The potent dark energy here had even altered the environment of Heaven and Earth.

Then, Ethan's thoughts wandered to the Immortal Slaying Sect.

The power of the Immortal Slaying Sect was self-evident, once the most formidable sect in the universe, unmatched and unyielding.

Moreover, Denton Horton had inherited the legacy of the Immortal Slaying Sect. Could it be that this North Plain was the burial site of one of the sect's top cultivators?

Or was this place one of the Immortal Slaying Sect's ancient battlefields?

But this didn't align with the imagery Ethan had seen back on Earth; he had personally witnessed the leader of the Immortal Slaying Sect die at the hands of Clare Richardson. How could such a figure end up buried in the Holy Region?

“This is strange,” Ethan said, furrowing his brows tightly. He stared at the ground, his curiosity only deepening.

*Perhaps the North Plain as it appeared now wasn't an accurate reflection of its true visage.*

*The real North Plain might long have been concealed beneath this endless blanket of snow.*

Ethan took a deep breath. Although he yearned to uncover the truth, the circumstances didn't allow him to act just yet. He had no choice but to shelve the idea for now.

He closed his eyes slightly and continued to absorb the dark energy emanating from the North Plain.

In two days, he would face off against Eternal. Thus, Ethan truly needed to make preparations.

That day.

The North Plain cultivators, led by Dudley Lynch, stepped across the northern border once again.

It had to be said, Dudley's strategies were dramatically different from those of Eternal.

He never engaged Horace Ford head-on but instead mastered the art of deception and treachery to perfection.

Through this latest great war, countless lives had been claimed within the painting scroll.

It was no exaggeration to say that the Southern Province suffered catastrophic losses, while the North Plain emerged victorious and laden with spoils.

That night.

Simon Ingram, holding several painting scrolls in his hand, said nonchalantly, “As expected, making the right choices determines everything.”

This statement was clearly directed toward Eternal, who prided himself on strategy but now felt profoundly humiliated.

Eternal glared at Simon with icy eyes and said, “If I hadn't taken the lead, there wouldn't have been any success today.”

“You're wrong,” Simon sneered.

“If you hadn't taken the lead, the only result would've been fewer deaths for the North Plain.”

Hearing this, Eternal could no longer contain himself.

He abruptly stood up and roared, “Simon Ingram, don't push me too far!”

Simon smirked coldly. “What's the matter? Have I struck a nerve? Are you losing control now?”

“You!”

Eternal was so enraged he nearly coughed up blood. Gritting his teeth, he said, “Simon, after this war is over, I'll make sure to test your so-called skills.”

“Heh, that depends on whether you can live till that day,” Simon retorted with a cold chuckle.

Throwing down those words, Simon turned and walked out.

He carried the painting scroll toward the very center of the North Plain, heading for the snowy mountain.

Then, Simon tossed the scroll high into the air, and it seemed to come alive, hovering above the high mountain and radiating an eerie brilliance.

Countless energies flowed into the Ice Mountain, and all the power accumulated within the painting scroll was absorbed by Denton Horton in an incredibly short span of time.

Having consumed the scrolls' energies, Denton Horton–long dormant–finally stirred.

The massive mountain trembled slightly, and deep within its core, a chilling voice echoed.

“The dead river has vanished?” Denton demanded in a frosty tone.

Simon clasped his hands respectfully and replied, “Reporting to the master, it has indeed vanished.”

Denton snorted coldly. “Faster than I anticipated.”

Simon quickly assured him, “Please be at ease, my lord. During this time, I will stay here to ensure no one comes near.”

Denton hummed in assent, then said faintly, “At most, a month–then I shall be fully revived. If the scroll absorbs even more energy, the time could be halved.”

“Master, Dudley will handle the matter well,” Simon declared at once.

Denton said no more, and the atmosphere fell into silence once again.

This voice caught Ethan's attention from afar.

He opened his eyes slightly and murmured, “That's Denton Horton's voice…”

*At this moment, Ethan had a fleeting thought of emulating Ken Middleton by eliminating the snowy mountain. But alas, with his current strength, such a feat was utterly impossible.*

“One month…” Ethan whispered softly.

*He considered spreading this information, but after deliberating for a long time, he ultimately decided against it.*

*He didn't want more lives to be senselessly lost in the North Plain.*

*Yet, reality often ran contrary to one's wishes.*

The next day.

For the third time, the North Plain marched into the Southern Province, once again led by Dudley Lynch.

It had to be said that under Dudley's command, every cultivator from the North Plain moved like ghosts–elusive and deadly. Countless people fell victim to their ruthless attacks.

Witnessing the devastation before him, Horace Ford's expression darkened with every passing moment.

His aged face displayed a resolute glint, as though he had made a final decision.

“If this continues, the Southern Province's cultivators will perish in vain,” Horace said, releasing a long, weary sigh.

A moment later, Horace's figure gradually vanished.

That very day.

The Southern Province again suffered massive losses, and all of it traced back directly to Dudley Lynch.

Beyond Dudley, another painting scroll was brought back.

The person involved was none other than Guinevere Lee!

Under the guise of her Southern Province heritage, she had quietly roamed its smaller towns, secretly slaughtering an untold number of lives!

Simon Ingram once more carried the painting scrolls to the base of the snowy mountain.

He cast the energies contained within the scrolls into the mountain, triggering another wave of minor collapses, as if the mountain could crumble at any moment.

Having completed this task, Simon did not leave.

Instead, he stood with arms folded behind his back, his gaze fixed in a certain direction.

“So, someone actually came,” Simon muttered with narrowed eyes and a cold smile.

From a distance, an elderly man with a weathered face fixed his gaze upon the snow and steadily approached the snowy mountain.

After some time, Horace finally arrived at the mountain's base.

“You truly dare to come,” Simon remarked with a sigh. “If I'm not mistaken, you're the one who injured Eternal.”

Horace nodded slightly and said, “Go ahead and summon Eternal; let him seek his revenge.”

“Oh?” Simon raised an eyebrow. “It seems you're quite confident.”

Horace said nothing, his eyes closed slightly, as if seriously waiting for Simon to call Eternal.