That afternoon, while the soldiers stationed on the battered walls of Taren King City were carefully nursing their barely-better-than-swine-feed meals, a group of enemy troops from distant warships landed.
He didn't even dare to touch the Shireck Flintlock Gun next to him, letting the flame in front of him scorch the old container.
Inside the container, the pasty food was bubbling eerily, emitting a somewhat nauseating smell—this meal, whose time of the day was unrecognizable, was it lunch or dinner?
Even the lowest-ranking seamen on the Great Tang Group's battle ships wouldn't want a taste of such trash. A sailor carrying a K3 rifle frowned down at the clueless soldiers of the Taren Kingdom, with undisguised disdain.
"Where's your commanding officer?" The elf sailor was wearing a very ordinary cap with a visor, and in the center above the visor was the emblem of a dragon.
