"I will ask one more time, who said that!"
Impatiently frowning, Rowdy Brightwill stood with his hands behind his back, his words dropping like steel coins, echoing as if they could hit the ground and bounce back.
As soon as the sound stopped, the entire troop fell into a silence as still as death, with no one making a sound.
An unspeakable pressure rapidly spread through the ranks, so suffocating it was hard to breathe.
The source of all this pressure was the young instructor standing in front of them.
So, it was at this moment that they began to seriously regard this young instructor.
Very young, about twenty-three or twenty-four, handsome with a slim figure and a sharp gaze. However, to many of the men, he seemed no different from a pretty boy lacking the strength to truss up a chicken.
Rowdy Brightwill's first impression was not that of someone who could command respect.
Perhaps he was capable, but he was too young to be convincing.
