Outpost No. 3

An outpost had been built at the entrance to the Wind-Splitting Plateau.

The outpost was small, covering barely a hundred meters in every direction. Its walls were assembled directly from alloy components, stood more than ten meters tall, and bristled with machine guns. Soldiers patrolled along the top.

The walls bore unmistakable scars, and craters pocked the ground all around the base. The once-lush grassland lay in tatters. Blood had soaked into the soil, turning it black, and human weapons and shattered animal bones littered the craters.

The scene made it clear just how brutal the fighting at the outpost had been.

At that moment, Cheng Long stood with a dozen or so soldiers in front of the outpost, waiting at the drop-off zone marked with a giant "H." He held up his binoculars and peered toward the main base, waiting for the transport plane to arrive.

A shipment of supplies was due today. Casualties had been heavy lately, and repeated attacks by the grassland natives had burned through huge amounts of ammunition. Without a resupply, they were about to run short.

Cheng Long lowered his binoculars and studied the traces of battle in front of the base, his expression grave.

The natives seemed to have gone mad, attacking wave after wave as if they had no fear of death. Worse, they had even drawn alien beasts into the fight. Cheng Long looked worn out. He hadn't slept well in more than ten days.

"It's here!"

One of the soldiers beside him suddenly pointed excitedly toward the sky.

The roar of engines filled the air. A black speck appeared in the distance, and Cheng Long's eyes lit up. He hurriedly raised his binoculars to take a closer look. Sure enough, it was a transport plane. At last, the Alliance had