They had spent a full two hours covering twenty kilometers, and everyone was starting to feel weary, particularly Vivian. She was relentlessly cursing Feng Yi. Who was she? The high ranking Saudi military commander who devised strategies that determined victories from miles away. In her personal life, she was a refined, elegant aristocrat, pursued by countless men. Yet, to her dismay, she fell into the clutches of an obscure foot soldier on the Big Macs battlefield.
Vivian was shooting daggers at Feng Yi the whole way.
Feng Yi, on the other hand, didn't care a bit. Despite walking through a landscape that swelled and dove, he looked lively, his trouser legs filthy with rain-soaked weeds. His fellow officers, though, looked quite strained, occasionally stumbling and falling. The pace of their march had unknowingly slowed.
Someone suggested that Feng Yi drive off in the Iveco now, asserting that its tail light and energy emissions would make it difficult for the Saudis to detect.
