The smell of freshly turned earth after the rain filled the air. Last night's torrential rain had subsided, but the early-morning sky was so gloomy it seemed ready to drip water.
The ground in their camp was a muddy mess. Tents stood everywhere, while soldiers sat in groups of three or five atop stacks of ammunition crates, cigarettes hanging from their mouths. These soldiers either had blood- and mud-stained bandages wrapped around their heads or had their arms set in casts and slung around their necks with medical gauze.
"Do you think our supreme commander has been possessed by some kind of demon or evil spirit?"
"Possessed? If you told me he ate an evil spirit for breakfast today, I'd believe you."
"Watch what you say. Do you want to be wrapped in a sleeping bag and thrown to the front line?"
The wounded soldiers sitting on the ammunition crates discussed it in hushed voices. They had just been withdrawn from the front line, a privilege reserved for the wounded.
Since arriving on the Western Continent yesterday, wave after wave of soldiers had been sent to the front line. Their original organization consisted of seven legions, but as the fighting continued, the Second and Seventh Legions were nearly wiped out. Fortunately, more soldiers had been sent over afterward.
By this morning, Su Xiao had eleven legions under his command. The First Legion, formed from Awakened Ones, was rarely deployed. The Third through Eleventh Legions were sent to the front in batches. Every time they launched an active attack, they sent at least two legions and at most five.
Of all the legions, only one was no longer being sent to the front line: the Second Legion. It now consisted entirely of veterans, each of whom was a firearms master. Sending