Annie left the room silently, and Feng Yi was alone once more, left to his quietude. The old bro, after all, was half a salted fish, and he felt that if he kept thinking this way, he'd really turn into one. What were the unfathomable fog and truth? What was he even worrying about?
This inexplicable train of thought seemed to have taken root in his heart, deeply entrenched and impossible to dispel, futile to even pull at…
Of course, the reason Feng Yi thought this way was not because the enemy was too strong, too terrifying, or too daunting. After all, god-like opponents are nothing to be feared—the world is not perfect. Because they are close to perfection, what they reflect could well be their greatest flaw.
Certainly, he was not a weakling, but Feng Yi suddenly realized an important detail about the significance of a troop's existence and its direction…
