"Wake up, with their level of magic immunity, your meteor fire shower won't even singe a single hair."
"Then what should we do? I just can't stand that bunch of guys!"
More than ten liches, including Bruto, were all shouting in a group.
Standing in the center, looking at the sandbox, Richie gently raised his left hand to stop the liches' argument: "Uncles and aunties, don't get agitated. Thirty thousand troops from the Undead Army pose no major issue for us. With some effort, we can recover around ten thousand on the battlefield. Plus, by absorbing from other areas, we should be able to replenish the thirty thousand rather quickly."
All the liches quietly stared at Richie.
"What's the matter?" Richie looked up at them.
"Aren't you angry?" Bruto asked.
"Angry, indeed." Richie replied, "I want more than anyone to smash their bones and feed them to the Hell Hounds. Trust me, everything we're doing now aims to smash their bones and feed them to the Hell Hounds."
"And then?"
