"Mr. President, I ask that you trust me one more time and let me lead a team to retake Firestone Mountain." Barnes spoke sternly, his face twisted with ferocity.
Jerz stared at Barnes and said word by word, "I'm only giving you three hours. If you can't take it within three hours, then get the hell out."
"Yes." Barnes gritted his teeth and left.
Jerz watched his retreating back. When no one was paying attention, his body suddenly swayed. Panic had taken hold of him. Though he had berated Barnes so harshly, Barnes was already the vice president under him with the most meticulous mind and the most reliable execution.
Yet even under such circumstances, Iron Blood Brotherhood had managed to steal Firestone Mountain. Jerz found it utterly insane. He no longer knew what else he could do.
Margaret came to Jerz's side and said anxiously, "Forget about Firestone Mountain for now. What about Orange Stronghold? Only two million players are defending it, while Iron Blood Brotherhood has more than ten million. They're attacking fiercely from all sides. The players inside that fortress won't be able to hold out for long. Guland has already asked for reinforcements several times."
Jerz roared, "Where am I supposed to find people to help him? Tell him he has to hold the stronghold. I'll send reinforcements as soon as possible."
Margaret could sense Jerz's helplessness. She said, "We still have a way to recruit more people to support us."
"What way?" Jerz asked sharply.
Margaret said, "Pay people. Call on every player in our region. As long as you're willing to spend money and offer rewards, people will come."
This was a desperate gamble. If Jerz lost, he would be left destitute. But people were like that sometimes—the more they said something aloud, the