"There's no damn conspiracy, the enemy across from us is clearly just a bunch of greenhorns, rushing in to attack and scattering in retreat—a bunch of rare specimens indeed!"
Grig made a swift judgment, if it was not for the insufficient number of troops in his hand, he really would have ordered a sortie right now, such good opportunities were rare.
"Commander, I noticed the enemy left behind quite a few weapons, why don't we send someone to pick them up? We could even make a profit!" the young officer pondered before saying.
Grig glared at him fiercely, speaking in a tone that was frustrated with his lack of understanding: "Ambrosius, sometimes I really want to split open your head to see what's inside, why you have so many muddled thoughts!
All you think about is making money, do you think the enemy is stupid? Why don't you try going up and see if the enemy will take your life?
Our mission is to hold the line, what use is picking up a few broken guns?"
