Three chapters updated; even Arthur's last scrap of family fortune had been swallowed up!
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In the Fourth Abyss, within the garrison of the Snow Birch Legion that Arthur had built at enormous expense, Lieutenant General Haling, the legion commander with the strength of a lower-rank Saint Warrior, wore a grim expression as he stood stiffly and stared at the abyssal army outside the camp—a force whose exact numbers only the gods knew.
Cannon fodder, cannon fodder, cannon fodder!
As far as the eye could see, red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and purple figures stretched endlessly across the land, dancing and gesticulating, shouting and bellowing, swaggering about, relieving themselves everywhere, even openly mating and breeding. This abyssal army resembled nothing so much as a poisoned swamp tainted beyond redemption, squirming in nauseating disorder.
A hundred Heavenly Knight heavy cavalrymen charging together could slaughter these trash troops cleanly.
But what left Haling and every officer in the camp pale-faced and afraid to cross the line was the more than one hundred evil ghosts standing there with gloomy faces, arms folded across their bare chests, vicious light blazing in their eyes and Killing Intent roiling around them. These fellows made no effort to conceal their auras. The weakest among them possessed Saint Master-level strength, and there were even several demigods.
Haling looked as though he wanted to weep but had no tears as he stared at the abyssal army outside the camp, an army weak to the utter extreme yet powerful to the utter extreme.
Speaking of ordinary soldiers, these Cave People and Gnome troops were utterly vulnerable. Yet those evil ghosts were so strong that words failed. These cannon-fodder soldiers, weak to the utmost, and these evil ghost powerhouses, strong to the utmost—when combined, they conveyed only