"Damn it! They've exterminated another fifteen of my tribes." The Wind Thunder King looked at the latest intelligence report, anger surging in his heart.
However, a sense of helplessness quickly extinguished his anger. There was little he could do now except try his best to protect his people. He was incapable of anything more.
Among the Alien Race, besides himself, the Boulder King was gravely injured, and it was unknown if he would survive. Even if he did, it wouldn't significantly alter the situation.
He was still alive only because the Human Clan needed someone to govern the Alien Race and ensure a steady output of resources. Otherwise, even if he could escape once, could he escape three or four times? If the Human Clan sent just three Human Martial Gods, no matter how fast he fled, he would be like a turtle in a jar, inevitably worn down and killed.
"Your Majesty, why don't we migrate south?" one of the Alien Race members suggested.
