"You must be dreaming about peaches,"
Qi Shanhe was startled, then slammed his hand onto the table forcefully.
He roared, "To be a soldier and say you won't participate in training, what do you think a soldier is in your eyes?"
"If you insist I partake in routine training and deal with those trivial matters, I'd rather quit being a soldier—let someone else do it,"
Qin Guang shrugged, his tone resolute.
He was not one to be easily restrained and training daily with others was impossible for him.
Moreover, with his skills, there was no need to join routine training.
He had his ways of practicing on his own.
"Give me a reason,"
Qi Shanhe glared at Qin Guang, fuming.
If it had been anyone else, he would not have just slammed the table but slapped that person's forehead already.
But facing Qin Guang, the old man truly lacked confidence.
