"Seeking a justification?"
Mo Shangjun curled her lips, staring at the collective third platoon with an icy, bone-chilling voice.
Perhaps it was her overwhelming aura, perhaps it was her daunting demeanor, perhaps it was her evident scars.
As her words landed, the third platoon fell silent, their gazes at her tinged with a mix of nervousness and uncertainty.
It could be said that this was the first time they truly confronted Mo Shangjun head-on.
They had heard that Mo Shangjun single-handedly suppressed the second platoon.
They had heard that Mo Shangjun had challenged the first platoon's recruits and emerged victorious.
They had heard that Mo Shangjun...
However, hearing is one thing, and being an onlooker is another.
Actually facing this person, being swept by her cold gaze, they felt sweat seeping from their bones, an invisible oppression enveloping them, weighing heavily on their shoulders, deeply deterring them from any rash response.
