At those words, a barely perceptible flicker crossed Chen Lin's eyes.
Spatial suppression? Storage immortal artifacts collapsing?
"What supplies do we mainly transport, then?" Chen Lin collected himself and continued asking.
"Two things." Gu Yuan held up two fingers.
"First, immortal crystals. The fighting on the front lines is brutal, and spiritual energy is severely depleted. Once cultivators exhaust their true essence, they're lambs to the slaughter. Immortal crystals are their lifeline. Second, heavenly treasures. Those are used to repair shattered defensive grand formations and treat the wounded."
Gu Yuan paused before continuing, "Our Seventh Theater Command's B-Class Supply Battalion has a hundred thousand people. The rules are simple. Those hundred thousand people take turns, and each person only needs to perform one escort mission to the front lines every year. The rest of the time, as long as you stay in camp, you can cultivate freely. Nobody will bother you."
One mission a year?
Song Qiuya and the others exchanged glances. Back in the Recruit Camp, they had mined every day without a break. Yet here, in this brutal theater of war, they only had to work once a year? The benefits sounded almost too good to be true.
"Once a year? Can all hundred thousand people get a turn?" Qin Chuxia couldn't help interjecting.
Gu Yuan grinned at her question. There was a trace of cruelty in that smile, the kind born of surviving mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
He seemed quite pleased with the confusion on Qin Chuxia's and the others' faces. After all, he had worn the same expression when he first arrived.
"Is a hundred thousand really that many?" Gu Yuan countered. He extended a large hand and traced an enormous circle in the air. "Friends, do you know how many combat zones