Clink.
Luo Yan turned off the stove.
This kind of stove, designed for field marches, was convenient to use. It used solid fuel, allowing one to start a fire and cook whenever needed.
Combined with convenient field rations, even someone who could not cook only had to pour them into boiling water and wait fifteen minutes.
They would get a steaming, delicious dinner.
Luo Yan picked up his bowl, scooped up a spoonful of soup, blew on it, and took a small sip. It tasted just right.
He then fished out some noodles, greens, stewed meat, and broth from the camp pot.
Just as he was about to pick up his chopsticks, he frowned. Several figures had blocked the firelight from the camp.
Luo Yan had no choice but to set down his bowl and chopsticks. He raised his head, his gaze settling on a tall man with a gray-white left eye standing in front.
Behind the man stood Rose and four or five Mercenaries.
The man with the gray-white left eye squatted down and revealed a friendly smile. "My name is Zhang Rong. What should I call you, little brother?"
"I already told your companions just now."
"I'm about to eat."
"Could you not disturb me?"
Luo Yan spoke coldly.
A flash of displeasure crossed Zhang Rong's eyes.
Luo Yan's crimson eyes appeared somewhat dim. After reaching Mystic Mastery, he had restrained his aura.
Unless he erupted with his power, even someone at Advanced level would mistake him for an ordinary person and overlook him.
In Zhang Rong's eyes, Luo Yan was currently just an ordinary person.
Zhang Rong had taken the initiative to show goodwill, yet an ordinary person had responded coldly. It was easy to imagine how he felt.
A Mercenary snorted. "Kid, don't you think you're