The True Face of Scumbag Wang Fugui

Eastern Defense Zone Headquarters.

Zhao Tingjian had never experienced a life so thrilling and stressful in all his years.

Since the war began, he had been working around the clock for dozens of consecutive days without sleep. Even Void Ascension Realm cultivators possessed vitality so tenacious they were practically inhuman, capable of going half a year or even a year without rest, yet the excessive toil and mental strain had still filled his eyes with bloodshot veins.

Battle reports came in like snowflakes, while pleas for aid exploded one after another like rolling spring thunder, never ceasing.

But what gave Zhao Tingjian the greatest headache was still manpower.

There simply were not enough troops. Supporting one front meant delaying another. Much of the time, the reinforcements were like guerrillas—having just put out a fire here, they immediately had to rush off for the next rescue.

By now, not only had every soldier in the Eastern Defense Zone been mobilized, but even all the troops of Immortal No. 3 Base had been completely deployed. There was not a drop of oil left to squeeze out.

The sole consolation Zhao Tingjian had was that, under the Immortal Dynasty's summons and dispatch, that vast machine had begun to move. The reserves and volunteer forces had all gathered and were already on their way to reinforce the Eastern Defense Zone.

Unfortunately, the realm-crossing ferries had limited capacity for transporting troops back and forth. Even though the Immortal Dynasty had reacted with extraordinary speed, distant water could not quench immediate thirst.

Besides, the human race could muster reserves, and naturally so could the Devil Race. Unless something unusual happened, the Eastern Defense Zone would likely become a colossal millstone of flesh and blood.

Inside headquarters, Zhao Tingjian dealt with several difficult matters in succession. Rubbing