A glimmer of understanding flashed through Jeming's eyes.
"The protagonists of this battlefield have never been us."
Everything the Wizard Legion did—building defensive lines, scouting and hunting, seizing resources, laying down trump cards—in the final analysis was only to add a sliver of "probability weight" to their own Eighth Level Wizards' chances of victory.
The true deciding move of the war lay high above the skies.
"So both sides are taking the task of scouting out the locations of each other's trump cards this seriously, and my next focus…" Jeming withdrew his gaze and refocused in front of him, "should also be to search for where the enemy has placed their trump cards."
If Jeming wanted to temper himself, he needed to encounter enough enemies; since both sides attached great importance to where they laid down their trump cards, as long as he kept searching, he would definitely run into an endless stream of enemy attacks.
