Ten thousand meters up in the sky.
The fierce winds cut like knives.
Chu Sheng and Luo Zhan floated side by side above the clouds.
The temperature here was frighteningly low. An ordinary person would be frozen into a popsicle in an instant.
But for these two freaks, this level of cold was nothing at all.
Chu Sheng beat his wings, looking down at the brightly lit defensive line as he silently calculated.
Just now, inside the military tent, he had confirmed the Northern Domain's current defensive strength with Luo Zhan.
The troops Li Zhantian and the others had brought were elites. Combined with the Northern Domain's original garrison, their high-end combat power—those at the King and Emperor Realms—could barely contend with the Alien Race's first wave.
At least they could hold out for a while. If they could just buy some time, they could hold on until more reinforcements arrived.
But the problem was...
The disparity in low-level combat strength!
