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The border between the staging areas of the eastern theater and the front lines consisted of magnificent, never-ending ramparts. The walls glittered with dazzling light as they spanned galaxies and universes. They served to completely isolate the staging areas from the front lines.
At a certain point along those endless ramparts, Xu Qing’s hoarse voice rang out. The exhaustion in his voice matched the exhaustion that the eighteen surviving members of his squadron couldn’t hide. They stood there quietly as the majestic will from the ramparts scanned them. And they could sense their identity medallions responding to the inspection.
From a distance, they were insignificant in comparison to the ramparts. After their identities had been verified, the will slowly retracted. Then the walls rippled, and an opening appeared. It was a small path.
On the other side of the path, beyond the opening, were over a hundred cultivators, just barely visible, but clearly looking closely at the group. They seemed surprised.
Xu Qing took little note of their facial expressions. He could guess why they were reacting this way. We’re probably the only squadron...
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