Another wave of cannon fodder emerged, but Hudson still did not make a move.
If all the Underworld Races were of this caliber, then there was nothing to worry about.
Clearly, judging from reports from across the continent, the Underworld Races were not weak at all. On the contrary, they were absurdly powerful.
Take the Goblins, for example.
The Goblins living on the continent could be considered one of the most pathetic races, bullying the weak and fearing the strong, as timid as mice.
Yet the Goblins emerging from the underworld had not grown any larger, but their nature had become bloodthirsty.
There were advantages and disadvantages. Great combat strength was never gained for nothing.
After living for a long time in such a fiercely competitive environment, being eager for quick success was inevitable if they wanted to live better.
Their cultivation philosophy had also shifted from pursuing long-term development to dealing with immediate concerns first. Many techniques that sacrificed potential and even lifespan were widely circulated among the Underworld Races.
These cannon fodder before them were all unlucky fools whose bodies had been severely overdrawn and were close to running dry.
Apart from the first wave of enemies, which had been somewhat worth watching, the latter two waves had been trash among trash.
After receiving no reports for so long, the Dark Elf elder finally remembered that she seemed to have issued a strict order forbidding anyone from returning.
Without gathering useful intelligence, how would these people dare return early?
Useful intelligence was obviously not easy to collect. Forget a few short hours—even after two or three days, they might not have much to show for it.
As both sides remained locked in a stalemate, the Underworld Races had yet to panic, but Hudson's group could no longer endure