"Daoist Xing, this battle is perilous, and an individual's strength has its limits. Why not return to camp and rest for a while, then join me and the many immortal troops in resisting our powerful enemy?" Mu Yuanzheng called out from the immortal army camp.
Xing Rong was ugly-faced, taciturn, and rarely interacted with his fellow officers. He was not especially well-liked, but his cultivation was relatively high, so no one would provoke him without reason.
He seemed to have formed a deep grudge against the dragon race long ago. He worked hard, never complained about the grueling or especially dangerous assignments, and the immortal troops stationed here had grown accustomed to having him around.
In these chaotic and perilous circumstances, Xing Rong was a valuable ally. He had a Primordial Spirit body, formidable combat strength, and familiarity with the local terrain.
The immortal troops here did have a camp to rely on, making their position somewhat more stable than that of their comrades fighting outside. However, the battle raging beyond the camp was so chaotic and dangerous that even the Immortal Lord-level experts who usually guarded it had been urgently dispatched to the front. At present, the only one in command was a cultivator with a Primordial Spirit body.
Powerful enemies kept slipping through the chaos, and occasionally even Dragon Lord- or Immortal Lord-level monsters from the opposing side would break away from their own battles to attack them.
The camp's formations and the immortal army's battle array had managed to hold them off, but Mu Yuanzheng and his fellow officers couldn't help feeling their hearts pound with anxiety as they watched the slaughter outside—the thunder of combat and rivers of blood.
Even the forces stationed at the Dragon-Slaying Guillotine camp had been deployed. Clearly, the fighting had reached