Amid the yellow sand filling the sky, the soldiers of the Aizhuomaer Empire were still desperately resisting the Undead Army.
Accompanied by battle cries and the clash of metal, screams rang out across the sand. Flesh and blood flew everywhere as the undead's blades kept piercing the soldiers' uniforms, sending sprays of blood splattering.
The soldiers roared one after another, hatred flashing across their savage faces as they charged at the undead.
As the battle dragged on, corpses gradually littered the battlefield, and the smell of blood in the air grew stronger.
Just as he had swung his sword countless times before, Evans severed the heads of three Skeleton Soldiers ahead with one slash, then briefly cleared some space and turned to look around.
Across the vast desert, the mass of the Undead Army was still surging forward like a tide, seemingly without end.
The soldiers around him had long since become blood-crazed. With blood smeared across their faces, they saw nothing but the undead troops ahead, their eyes filled with the resolve to fight to the death.
Yet the outcome of a battle between two armies could rarely be swayed by things like courage and conviction. As the fighting continued, his troops soon began taking casualties, and their losses were rapidly mounting.
Soldiers kept falling in droves into spreading pools of blood. Everywhere he looked, corpses lay with their eyes still open in death. Crimson blood flowed ceaselessly, almost staining all the battlefield's yellow sand red. It looked like a hell on earth, a chilling sight.
Besides the soldiers' falling levels and dwindling numbers, another factor affected their fighting strength even more directly: exhaustion!
In this battle against overwhelming numbers, exhaustion made itself felt sooner than expected.
When their army had besieged the Manticore earlier, they had been able