Return countdown 66:00:00.
6 o'clock in the morning.
The outpost base was in complete disarray, with the airplane runway cracked with countless gaps, resembling the broken feeling of a dried riverbed.
Those A-Class Airships that hadn't managed to take off were crookedly stuck in the gaps, with minor nobles and soldiers hiding inside, not daring to move.
The sky gradually brightened, revealing bird carcasses everywhere on the ground of the outpost base, along with large wild boars shot down by the base.
Miserable, truly miserable.
The minor nobles confirmed there was no danger before they crawled out of the airships one by one, silently observing their surroundings.
A sense of "fortunate survival" arose in everyone's hearts; thankfully, they were not dead!
But how did the outpost base manage to hold?
Just yesterday afternoon, 'Marquis Bolton' started maneuvering the airships, adjusting the hangar bay numbers, and everyone was complaining.
