Wang Xuan didn't mind, he looked up at the silhouettes falling like meteors, a series of miniature parachutes drifting down.
In the distance, the military camp's medical station, a pall of death rose into the air, what was transported there were not only the severely injured living, but also the dead.
Most of the wounded lost valuable lives because treatment was not timely enough, not because the medical level wasn't sufficient, but because most people were dying in the process of crossing the atmosphere.
A wisp of Creation Magical Power split off and turned into a humanoid form, Wang Xuan thought about it and then divided several hundred strands of magical power incarnations, rushing straight toward the sky to rescue those severely injured soldiers.
Each time he saved someone, Wang Xuan could sense the gain in the Power of Faith, and even strands of golden light of merit came flying.
