On the Western Frontier Defense Line, in the eastern sector, five hundred li behind the fortress cluster, lay the Third Martial Artist Army's station.
The administrative building, the Legion Commander's office.
Uncle An, dressed like a butler, poured tea for the two men seated across the tea table, then lit some incense. Only after that did he bow and withdraw, closing the door behind him.
On either side of the tea table, Zhang Luye and Zhang Yansheng sat facing each other, speechless for a long time.
Until—
Knock, knock, knock!
Someone knocked at the door.
"Come in!"
Zhang Yansheng spoke in a low voice.
Click. The door swung open.
Wrapped from head to toe in bandages and leaning on a crutch, Zhang Pengcheng shuffled in, taking one halting step after another.
Zhang Luye happened to be sitting diagonally opposite the door. When he saw his grandson injured so badly, he could no longer hold back and roared, "My good grandson is still in school! Why did you send him to the battlefield?"
Zhang Yansheng did not even raise his eyelids. Once Zhang Pengcheng had struggled into his seat, he said, "Ask him yourself."
Zhang Luye immediately turned his gaze to Zhang Pengcheng. His tiger-like eyes carried authority, yet also a trace of concern.
Zhang Pengcheng shrank his neck. "To serve the nation!"
A grim aura surrounded Zhang Luye. His eyes flashed like lightning as he stared fixedly at his grandson.
The pressure of a Martial Immortal instantly froze the air throughout the office.
Zhang Pengcheng mumbled awkwardly, not daring to speak.
"To serve the nation?"
Zhang Yansheng chuckled and exposed him. "He heard that I wanted Jiang Xue to join the Third Army, so he threw a tantrum and rolled around on the floor at home. Then he secretly took