More and more wounded were crowding inside the third shield; sooner or later, this would cause problems. There were too many wounded, and they were only coming in, not going out. This was no solution at all. The main issue was that the third shield was too small, with a limited area.
"This won't work! We have to transport the wounded out; the shield's area will run out of space soon!" a Fifth Grade of the Zhenqin Corps shouted.
There was still an endless stream of Martial Artists climbing up from the Underground City, but the third shield was only so big. It would collapse sooner or later.
The Major General kept a grim face and remained silent. The situation was critical, and they could only hope for a miracle. Hopefully, the Marshal had some other way.
"Look, it's the Ninth Grades! The Ninth Grades have arrived!"
