A giant dragon flapped its wings and slowly landed in a clearing, and Erit jumped off Ivan's dragon back, looking at the cloud of magical energy above his head, and stood there silently, not speaking for a long time.

Ivan leaned over, looked at the cloud of magical energy, and said, "It seems...... They went through a treacherous battle......"

"Are you embarrassed? If it weren't for you, I would have been able to witness such a battle! Erritt scolded in frustration.

He was bent on fighting for humanity once, but he was even more unlucky than Modlaire, he missed all the battles, and until now, he has not used his skills properly.

Just behind him, a vehicle with a red cross struck awkward, followed by a jeep with two stretchers strapped to it, on which lay two wounded men with amputated limbs.

Such scenes make this place on the edge of the battlefield very real, and the cruelty of war is so taken for granted here.

The wounded brought down from Burkelan were everywhere, and this huge fortress with more than 100,000 people of various artillery and more than 300,000 civilians was blown beyond recognition by the energy pouring or energy impact magic, and the inhabitants inside were naturally miserable.

The explosion of the ammunition depot has long been a strange thing, and sometimes the bodies of the officers and soldiers who were killed by the bombing could not even be found.

Those who can find the bodies are not necessarily lucky, because they are also dead, and they can't die cleanly.

Even more tragic were the wounded who did not die – many had their arms or legs blown off, and many were crushed under the rubble, and for more than a day, they had been unable to be rescued.

There are many more, the kind of poor worms in front of them, who have been rescued, but have turned out to be disabled.

Two ambulances full of wounded people passed by, followed by two trucks, the compartments of which were filled with the lightly wounded.

The lightly wounded, with bandages on their heads and arms hanging from their chests, looked curiously at the dragon beside the road, at the magnificent wings, and at the scales that looked dense.

In the distance, on the horizon, Burkland, was still billowing with smoke. The smoke filled the horizon, blocking Witholands farther away.

In the fields on the other side of the road, there were tents with no edge in sight, and I don't know whether the troops who had just arrived or had just been withdrawn from the front line were resting in the tent camp.

They held lunch boxes, or newspapers and magazines that had just been delivered from further afield, and watched the passing army with interest.

And next to the roadbed between them and the road, a group of Irranhill Imperial light infantry with weapons on their shoulders was advancing.

These soldiers were ordered to fight directly into Witholands, fortify their defensive positions, and take over the army of demonic servants who were on the front lines, allowing them to continue their advance further afield.

On both flanks, the tank and mechanized infantry divisions of the Elanhill Empire were continuing their advance, the armored bridge-erectors lowering the steel bridges, and then the tanks rushed across the tiny river with bows and arrows.

Armored vehicles followed, followed by untold infantry chanting the slogan Long live the Irranhill Empire, filling the trenches filled with demonic corpses.

Witthoran Rans was now surrounded on three sides, and the demons on both wings had no way to withstand the attacks of the Iran Hill Empire in a state of field warfare.

More and more Irlanhill Imperial troops were killed to where they were supposed to be, and then they moved on, trying to encircle all of Witholands.

They almost succeeded, and in the space of two days, they had advanced more than 50 kilometers, and the connection between Witholands and the demon defenders outside had been basically cut off.

If you want to withdraw from the city, or transport anything into the city, you will be disturbed by the artillery of the Ellanhill Empire, which is a narrow passage, and it is the path of death that the demon forces have fought so hard to survive.

Perhaps, the Iran Hill Empire retains such a passage in order to let the demons inside and outside the city drain their own blood for this dead end.

Because it was surrounded on three sides, Wittholands could no longer find any so-called safe place, and there were artillery on all sides, and as soon as the shelling of this side was completed, the artillery fire on that side began again.

The rumbling cannons don't seem to stop at all, after all, the front-line troops of the Iran Hill Empire have more and more small-caliber artillery, as well as plenty of shells.

The 120 mm mortars, which were used to support the battalion troops, and the 80 mm mortars, which were used to support the company, were also firing incessantly, blowing up the frontline positions to a miasma.

This is war, cruel and boring war. After the best battles have been fought, all that remains is cruelty and blood, as well as death and torture.

There was no longer a terrible rift in the sky, and the bombers of the Iran Hill Empire had once again arrived at Witholands.

The Air Force seems obsessed with blowing Witholands into a blank slate, carrying all sorts of old bombs and dropping these obsolete munitions on a battlefield that is nearing its end.

The explosion struck again, as if to cover the land with a carpet of death. Because the ammunition had run out, the demon's anti-aircraft fire fell completely silent, and they could only watch as their positions were overwhelmed by the explosion.

It was also the first time that those strategic bombers flew to such a low place to carry out bombing missions, and as long as they raised their heads, they could see the open belly bomb bay of these bombers, and they could clearly see the bombs hanging inside.

Some high-level demons can even see the rivets on the plane, and there are some gaps in the skin, but what's the use of that? They didn't have the guts to bombard magic at the sky, because they were afraid of more and more terrible retaliation.

Half of the city was once again drowned in the firelight, and the other half was as silent as windless water.

The area controlled by the Irlanhill Empire, covered with black flags or lit with incendiary sticks, was very safe, and the soldiers on the position just felt the slight vibration of the ground under their feet, and watched coldly at the explosion in the distance, raising black smoke in the sky.

In the flames of the explosion, the shadow of the once majestic Demon Temple twisted into a terrifying shape. It was too close to the forward positions of the Irlanhill Empire to be hit by the bombs.

The demons there have sworn to defend this seemingly undesecrated place, withstanding the rain of steel of the Irlanhill Empire with their lives.

What they didn't know was that the unit of attack aircraft that had been specially bombed where they were had already taken off from the airfield - it turned out that the bombing of the Imperial Air Force of Iran Hill might be late, but it would never be absent......