The war on the Cold River was still ongoing.
Capitalizing on their geographical advantages, the Kylin Holy Land had attacked the Qionghua Holy Land multiple times, severely delaying its shipbuilding efforts. Often, warships were destroyed before they could even be completed.
"Scum! That damned Lin Wufeng!"
In a camp six hundred li from the Cold River, Zheng Guiqiong sat in the seat of honor, cursing loudly, her willow-like eyebrows fiercely arched in frustration. Below her, the upper echelons of the Qionghua Holy Land hung their heads, their expressions disheartened. They had tried numerous methods during this time, but all had ended in failure.
"What did the Holy Master say?" After venting her frustrations for a while, Zheng Guiqiong calmed down and asked in a low voice.
"Reporting to the Vice Holy Master, the Holy Master has instructed us to temporarily cease our attacks and observe the situation," an elder replied, having risen and cupped his hands respectfully.
