Thoren monitored the battle with the same calm expression. Not even the continuous explosions or miserable screams caused the slightest ripple in his eyes.
His silver hair fluttered gently under the desert wind and his gaze calmly swept across every section of the battlefield.
He watched as the undead Sanguine Vultures tore through the archer legion with ease. Every descent of the undead vulture left dozens of corpses behind.
The archers desperately fired volley after volley into the sky. Unfortunately, none of their arrows achieved anything meaningful.
This did not come as a surprise to him.
Everything was unfolding exactly as he had expected.
With the undead Sanguine Vultures' wings laced with deadly Bronze Grade daggers, how could mere ordinary arrows stop them?
Even if the arrows managed to strike them, their undead bodies barely reacted.
Watching such a scene, Thoren remained completely indifferent. He watched the Scorpion General's expression and sneered.
