Lu Yang leaned back comfortably in his chair and let out a long sigh. "If every major battle could go like this, just think how much easier I'd have it. Life would be so much more comfortable."
Xia Yuwei, Bai Shi, and the others looked at Lu Yang with pained, sympathetic expressions. The battles of the past several days had demanded too much of him. He was exhausted.
But now that the Iron Blood Brotherhood had reached its current heights, none of its enemies were simple. This time, Zhou Tianming had risked his life to make the surrounding major organizations launch their attack early. Otherwise, if Kim Kwang-soo had been given another month—or even just ten more days—how could he and Ma Canlie have failed to thoroughly investigate the Divine Focus Concoction?
"Don't think about it so much," Xia Yuwei said. "There will be plenty more battles ahead."
Lu Yang lazily stretched. "Let's head down too. We won this battle. Time to prepare for the next one at the Azure River."
On the battlefield, the ten million players under Ma Canlie's command collapsed entirely from three directions, crying and screaming as they fled backward.
There were tens of thousands of Korean guilds, and every player who joined the battle had brought their own equipment. Death meant dropping gear. Everyone had wanted to swarm the Iron Blood Brotherhood, defeat them, and seize their equipment, but no one had expected to be hunted down and lose their own gear.
Seeing that they could not win head-on, the selfishness of the loosely organized Korean players took over. No one was willing to put in any effort. Not even one person stopped to organize a counterattack on the spot.
From afar, seven or eight million players could be seen fleeing madly across the vast