"Next time we meet, I just hope you won't be too weak!"
A quarter of an hour later, the training ground was abuzz with military recruitment.
"Zhang Da, Li Mountain..."
"Present!"
"Count me in, Centurion. I want to go too!"
In the bustling training ground, a youthful voice piped up, belonging to a seventeen or eighteen-year-old boy who spoke with determination. A family letter had arrived from his brother a few days ago, stating that their mother was seriously ill and urgently needed money for treatment. He couldn't wait any longer.
The clamor of the training ground paused slightly, and all eyes turned to the still slightly immature face.
Wang Xuan glanced over with indifference, his voice cold and undeniable.
"You're too weak."
"Centurion, just give me a..."
In the next moment, an invisible killing intent suddenly released from around Wang Xuan, causing the boy's face to change slightly. His words were abruptly cut off, and a hint of disappointment appeared on his face.
