A Humble Request

When the officer heard this, he lifted his eyelids and looked Webber's small squad of defeated remnants up and down with the cold, indifferent gaze of someone inspecting goods.

Every one of them was wounded, their uniforms ragged, their bodies spattered with blood, their weapons broken. They truly looked as if they had been through a bitter battle and had burned the oil dry, the lamp spent.

The officer's gaze finally fixed on Webber's face, smeared with blood and fatigue. His brow creased almost imperceptibly, and he asked without the slightest emotion in his voice:

"Webber?... Your name is Webber?" He repeated the name, as if searching his memory for something.

Webber's heart clenched violently. An ominous premonition seized him in an instant, but he could only brace himself and answer, "Yes, this humble one is Webber."

The corner of the officer's mouth suddenly hooked into an extremely faint yet bone-chilling curve, and a flash of understanding and undisguised contempt passed through his eyes.

He drew out his tone and said, in a voice as if he had suddenly remembered something, "Oh, Webber. I remember now... You were that... soldier under Walter, weren't you? When that Walter rebelled, you were serving under him, right?"

Those words were like an ice pick, stabbing viciously into Webber's heart! The thing he feared most had happened after all!

The surname Webber was not common, and he had indeed once served under Walter, the general who was later executed for rebellion.

Although when the rebellion occurred, he had been out on a mission and had not taken part, and afterward he had undergone a strict investigation that proved his innocence.

But the stain of "once having been a rebel general's subordinate" was like a bone-deep ulcer, following him all along.

From then on, he