Yuan City, Eastern Camp, inside the Central Army's tent.
Wang Shiyi crouched in front of the sand table as usual, his brows tightly furrowed.
Every time a great battle loomed, he liked to gaze at the sand table, often sitting there for the entire day.
Dressed in a black robe, Li Qirong entered the tent slowly, fan in hand, and said, "Great Commander, I feel that both the Ghost Swordsman and the Demon Sect possess remarkable strength. Why don't we join forces with them to resist Houjin's advances?"
"Collaboration is not something I would reject, but to follow his orders is utterly out of the question," replied Wang Shiyi, shaking his head seriously. "He is merely a hooligan from Jianghu. How could he understand how to command troops? I'm responsible for hundreds of thousands of soldiers and the tens of millions of Great Yan citizens behind me."
Li Qirong sighed internally, remaining silent.
