For this duke, coming to Huo Ling for aid was an act of desperation.
His war zone had originally found it fairly easy to fend off demon attacks. Under his command were two or three devil marquises, as well as a servitor deity hired as a mercenary.
But as the demons' offensives grew fiercer by the day, the duke felt the pressure on his defensive sector mounting as well.
And war zones like his had already held out for quite a long time.
The commanders of some war zones had brought less strength with them, and under the demons' savage assaults, the troops beneath them suffered losses at an alarming rate.
There were even no mercenaries willing to enlist for such battlefields in the Bronze Citadel.
Mercenaries loved money, but they treasured their lives just as much. Those free mercenaries were willing enough to join wars where one side held the advantage, or where the two sides were evenly matched.
But asking them to join a war already sliding into decline? Unless they had been sweet-talked into it, no mercenary would join a battle that was certain to mean death.
The war zones of the Bronze Citadel had each fallen into a vicious cycle.
The weaker their defenses became, the more enemies came to attack them. Demons, too, knew to pick on the soft persimmons.
Especially the Sixth War Zone, where Huo Ling had once served. It could be said that ever since Huo Ling left, that war zone had never recovered.
The Sixth War Zone of old might not necessarily have turned a profit, but the war zone commanders before Huo Ling had all managed to break even or sustain only minor losses.
But after Huo Ling departed, every successor ran into terrible luck. Each duke had to pull