Yan Pojun shook his head. "We already tried. We sent out three squads, and none of them managed to penetrate the undead territory. The Mountain Clan's fire-type soul skills are very poor at damaging undead—skeletons aren't afraid of fire, zombies keep charging even when they're burning, and ghosts can't be burned at all. Our advantage can't be brought to bear, while the undead's weakness has become their advantage."
He looked at the wandering black shadows outside the city. "They're wearing us down. Once our Soul Power is exhausted, once our will is exhausted, they'll swarm in. By then, we won't even have the strength to resist."
"Then are we just going to do nothing?"
"We wait. Wait for Spirit Hall's reinforcements." Yan Pojun turned and looked at Yan inside the stronghold. "Yan is a core disciple of Spirit Hall's Golden Generation. Spirit Hall won't ignore him. The reinforcements are already on the way. What we need to do is hold the Main Stronghold until they arrive."
On the Mountain Clan's map, the red area grew smaller and smaller.
Yuhua Stronghold was gone, Blue Rock Stronghold was gone, Black Stone Stronghold, Flame Stronghold, Thunder Stronghold, Gale Stronghold—one after another, they vanished from the map.
Blackness surged in from every direction, surrounding the Mountain Main Stronghold and the main strongholds of the Eight Great Tribes at the center.
The Main Stronghold and the eight great strongholds had become a lone island, with a boundless ocean of undead on all sides.
The Mountain Clan did not simply sit and wait for death.
They had tried a decapitation operation—sending elite squads deep into the undead territory to locate the Evil Spirit Master.
The first squad had ten men, all at the Soul King level, led by a Soul Emperor.
They set out under cover