"An unforeseen situation. I can't guarantee anything either."
Paquiao replied coldly, "Besides, in a fight of this scale, who can guarantee that nothing at all will go wrong? Is this your first day on the job?"
For a moment, the questioner fell silent. Sighs and mocking laughter came through the comms. Amid the chaos, someone was the first to speak up: "In that case, why not..."
Why not conserve their strength, why not retreat first, why not leave the green hills intact...
"Run?!"
Before Paquiao could speak, someone sneered. "The hell makes you think you can run? Why don't you give everyone a demonstration first?"
They had already charged right up into the enemy's face. Did he really want to turn around, bare his ass to them, and run away?
Why not take a look at the situation before your eyes?
If they ran now, the enemy would only press their advantage. Out at sea, where there was no cover and nothing to hold them back, just guess how outrageous the enemy's firepower could get.
The quick-witted had already caught on. That bastard Paquiao had probably known about the enemy's situation all along. He had urged so many people to come precisely so he could use them as cannon fodder!
But cannon fodder was cannon fodder. The water ghosts below were all cheap recruits anyway. No one would feel bad no matter how many died; they only regretted the losses.
"Things have come to this. There is no advancing without retreating. Besides, New Spring Town is right before us. After suffering so many losses, can't we make them back by looting it?" Paquiao warned indifferently, offering a carrot and stick. "I can shoulder all repairs and losses for every ally. But if anyone wants to abandon me now, then you'd