"Fifth Squad, charge!"
With Theron Coffey’s command, Squad Leader Berengar Bernard led his team surging towards the Heavenly Dome.
Quickly, a thousand-strong Demon Race unit came forward, and both sides soon engaged in fierce combat.
Carson Flores and others were fully prepared, each gazing at the Heavenly Dome, their expressions solemn, excited, and tense.
After the Fifth Squad, it was the turn of the Third Squad!
The Fifth Squad, indeed the ace of the Ninth Battalion, possessed great strength, with at least thirty Prime Immortals, far stronger than the Third Squad overall.
However, their Demon Race opponents were equally formidable, with many strong fighters in their ranks, and the moment the two sides clashed, the battle heated up to an extreme degree, remaining fiercely contested.
Witnessing this scene, the Third Squad members took a deep breath, their faces increasingly grave.
The Fifth Squad was so formidable, yet failed to gain a clear advantage; what about themselves?
Despite their bloodlust to kill the enemy, at this moment, they secretly wished the opponents they’d face in the next battle would be weaker.
They wanted military merit, but no one wished to die!
The battle dragged on, with significant casualties on both sides, be it the Fifth Squad or the Demon Race squad.
Just as Carson Flores worried whether this battle would turn into a grindstone, burying the entire Fifth Squad, the sound of the retreat horn from the Demon Race rang out.
The Demon Race squad retreated in an orderly fashion, and Berengar Bernard led a charge, only to find that despite withdrawing, their defensive formation remained intact, forcing him to stop.
Carson Flores watched the entire process, deeply impressed.
The Immortal Army fights differently from solo combat; these individuals form groups of three or four, with some responsible for defense and others for offense, clearly defined roles that maximize everyone’s combat power, greatly enhancing both attack and defense.
The strong would lead the charge, quickly isolating the enemy strong, intercepting them, leaving the weaker ones for the comrades behind, ensuring that no weaklings faced strong foes and got wiped out immediately.
The battle was intense and evenly matched, with heavy casualties but fewer deaths; most were injured.
Once someone got severely injured by the enemy, provided they weren’t outright crushed and killed, they’d quickly shrink back behind the lines, while another promptly took their place to intercept the opponent, preventing pursuit.
The injured would regroup within a defensive circle, using their magical treasures to assist comrades from a distance.
After observing many battles, Carson Flores understood a pattern: when both sides possess similar strength, no matter how fierce the fight, the number of injured might be large, but deaths would remain few. However, if one side’s strong gains an absolute numerical advantage, the battle would tilt completely, resulting in massive casualties on the other side.
Soon, Berengar Bernard led his team back, and Nerys Roth approached, praising, "Good fight, you didn’t disgrace our Ninth Battalion!"
Pausing, Nerys Roth turned with a serious face, "Third Squad, go ahead, it’s your turn."
Without any extra words, Carson Flores took flight first, followed closely by a thousand disciples from Majestic Sect, heading to the center of the battlefield.
At the same time, a squad from the Demon Race camp charged forth, their voices arriving before them.
"Alwyn Briarwood is here, who’s the unlucky one facing me, come forth quickly and meet your end!"
Alwyn Briarwood?
Carson Flores was slightly stunned, recalling this Demon Race figure. Previously, he led a thousand-strong Demon Race team to defeat an Immortal squad, causing 200 deaths and 400 injuries, leaving a deep impression on Carson Flores.
Here he is again!
It seems this guy is a formidable war general, if not at least a squad leader, right?
Both sides collided in the Heavenly Dome from afar, still distant, but the surging murderous aura already clashed invisibly in the space between, creating a crackling sound of air fracturing.
Alwyn Briarwood seemed very young, not only in appearance but also evident from the length and color of the single horn on his head.
The Demon Race’s single horn darkens and extends with age, and the growth length follows a regular pattern, allowing one to estimate age by observing the horn’s length and color.
Alwyn Briarwood’s horn appeared pretty light and not long; roughly estimating, Alwyn Briarwood might only be four to five hundred years old. At such an age, possessing this strength and being a forefront leader of the Demon Race is indeed a remarkable talent.
Alwyn Briarwood, with blood-red eyes, scrutinized Carson Flores in the middle of the squad, suddenly laughing coldly, "Has the Immortal Realm run out of people, sending a Lower Grade Prime Immortal to lead the team? Is this a death gift?"
Pausing, Alwyn Briarwood stared at Carson Flores, arrogant, "Kid, at your age with this strength, being sent here to fight, is it a death wish or do you have a feud with your superior?"