Zhang Simin was from the Central Group Army, the youngest lieutenant general in Great Xia Nation. His record was illustrious: he had taken part in or commanded several battles, and his own strength had reached the peak of the Martial Master realm.
Tall and straight-backed, with thick brows, large eyes, and a square face, he looked like the very model of a soldier in any photograph.
A man like that naturally possessed a will and confidence beyond what ordinary people could hope to match.
But now, facing his impending meeting with Chen Shouyi, even his strong, resilient composure crumbled away. A man's reputation cast a long shadow. To be honest, when it came to this human God of Martial Arts, whose strength rivaled that of a Barbarian God, Zhang Simin would rather not deal with him unless absolutely necessary.
The pressure was immense. It was like an ant dealing with an elephant; one couldn't help feeling that at any moment the other might step on you and crush you. By comparison, facing the president was much easier. At least the latter didn't make him feel his life was in danger.
He finished his cigarette, tossed the butt away, and strode toward the truck ahead.
Chen Shouyi had been talking with his parents when he saw a soldier come over to report that the commander wanted to see him.
He nodded, jumped down from the truck, and saw Zhang Simin standing respectfully beside it. "Commander Zhang, what do you need?"
"Chief Chen, please, just call me Old Zhang. I came by to ask you about the situation outside." Zhang Simin smiled and did his best to make it sound like casual conversation, though he felt awkward all over.
"You mean whether it's safe? I don't think we need to stay on