Thousands of miles from Dongping City, a vast stretch of green grasslands lay interrupted by the presence of a sprawling military encampment.
Tens of massive tents, each as large as a manor, spread across the plain in a disciplined formation.
Flags bearing the sigil of the Necoris Race fluttered in the wind, their sharp insignias flashing like knives in the sunlight.
The air was thick with the sounds of discipline and preparation—clashes of steel on steel, the heavy grunts of soldiers sparring, and the rhythmic drumming that echoed in sync with their marches.
Everywhere the eye could see, soldiers moved with purpose, their footsteps a steady, thunderous rhythm.
Around the perimeter of the camp, elite guards patrolled with cold, calculating eyes. Their gazes were sharp, piercing through the distance as they surveyed the land with an unrelenting focus.
