Above the sky, the second round of magical attacks was charging.
Aside from the most basic defensive spells, all the remaining power of the sixty Floating Battleships was supplied to their offensive magic arrays.
Hundreds of thousands of flaming spears fell from the sky as the second round of strikes officially began.
Compared to the probing attacks of the first round, this was the Sixth Floating Fleet's true attack tempo.
On the ground, countless fortresses lit up with Red Light as the Holy Blood Shields rose.
The flaming spears fell like meteors, striking the shields one after another.
The violent tremors caused by hundreds of impacts stacked together, creating wave after wave of energy shocks. Mana fluctuations powerful enough to destroy everything spread continuously in all directions, shattering mountains and making the earth quake wherever they passed.
Outside the Holy Blood Shields, countless forests caught fire, and hundreds of thousands of mountain folk living among the forests and wilderness were swallowed by the flames.
Inside one fortress, the garrison general watched the disaster-like scene and slammed his fist into the brickwork beside him. Under the sheer force, the metal-reinforced bricks instantly turned to powder.
"General, under this kind of attack, the Holy Blood Shields can hold for half an hour at most," a Spellcaster said with a deathly pale face after pushing past layers of guards to reach the garrison general.
Hearing that time limit, the garrison general felt a profound sense of helplessness.
If the enemy had come from the ground, or even from underground, he would have had ways to meet them in battle.
But now, the enemy had come from the sky. All he could do was watch, unable to do anything, waiting for the Sky Silver Wing Fleet to come to their rescue.
But by the