A sharp arrow split through the thunder.
Countless arcs of lightning burst and scattered in every direction.
The arrow's source was a silver-white ballista.
This ballista, conjured from morale, was enormous and devastatingly powerful. Its bowstring hummed as it spat out a roar capable of piercing more than a dozen people. Several soldiers surrounded it. Two worked together to crank the winch, four drew and loaded arrows, and two kept a tense watch on the dark sky, adjusting their aim. The remaining soldiers protected the ballista, ensuring it wasn't destroyed by the enemy.
With Fang Yan entering the field, the situation began to stabilize.
He divided his attention, using Word Spirit to help Chao Lian fight at peak condition while issuing orders to distribute the city's morale and conjure ballistae to meet the ceaseless barrage of lightning.
The lightning looked frightening, but it lacked the force of the one that had struck years ago. Fang Yan refused to believe it was endless. As long as they could precisely shatter every bolt and ensure the barrier wasn't damaged too badly, their hidden enemy would eventually grow impatient.
What did they think they were, sitting comfortably and fishing while he was right here?
The ballistae's power and range depended on morale.
The arrows they fired also consumed morale.
With the war just beginning, they had to conserve their morale.
Fang Yan continuously calculated how much morale it would take to shatter the lightning, worked out how frequently it fell, and ordered enough ballistae to be conjured. The crossbows needed time to build tension. Once they factored in cranking the winches and drawing and loading arrows, gaps could easily appear for the enemy to exploit.
No matter how he worked it out, there would be blind spots in their defense.
That was when