Airspace near Cloud Ridge.
Behind the battlefield, tower ships covered in scars and riddled with holes were being hastily repaired. The formations throughout were severely damaged, their glow flickering bright and dim. Blood still seeped from several gashes in the hull carved by sharp weapons; no one knew how many people inside had died when the ship was attacked.
The senior Red Robe Official lay on the deck while a group of physicians treated his wounds, swallowing all manner of Healing Pills by the handful.
Lying down, he could see the sky, yet could barely tell day from night.
At some point, the vault of heaven had been obscured by thick clouds. The stars were nowhere to be seen, while flashing lights reflected against the clouds in every color.
"Alas..."
It was probably night by now. That Flood Dragon was still steadily carrying on with its mischief.
A staff clerk hurried over, bending at the waist and lowering his head.
"My lord, the Saint Dynasty's main army has yet to arrive. Twenty-eight Lineages and seven hundred Rogue Cultivators have arrived. How should these small Lineages and Rogue Cultivators be arranged?"
Hearing this, the official struggled to raise his head and glanced at the Snake Demon Soldiers surrounded by over twenty thousand elite troops.
There had previously been thirty thousand of them. An hour later, only twenty thousand remained.
He waved a hand indifferently.
"Tell them that the time has come to fight for the Saint Dynasty. Go dig up the mountain. Any who retreat without authorization will be killed without pardon."
The staff clerk froze as he looked at the official's pale face.
"This... they are too weak. If they rashly enter the battlefield, I fear they will all die."
They cultivated and lived in the same region, seeing one