Luo Ningcha wasn't quite satisfied, but for the moment she couldn't say what was wrong. She studied the soldiers standing in the snow for a long while, then asked, "How many of us are there?"
"There are more than two thousand four hundred Iron Mountain soldiers," the chief replied. He was an old subordinate of Great Head God. Luo Ningcha had known his voice since she was a child, but this was the first time she had ever met him in person. He secretly praised Great Head God for never having exaggerated about his daughter.
"Why... do they look like so few? They don't have any presence," Luo Ningcha said with a frown. "Look at the Northern Court. Their countless troops look like an army that can really fight."
The chief laughed twice. "Miss, we can't compare with great powers like the Northern Court and the Central Plains. Two thousand four hundred men is no small force. In any country in the Western Regions, it would be impossible to ignore. And more than a thousand of them are old Iron Mountain hands. Every one of them can take on ten men with a blade."
Luo Ningcha did the math. Even if a thousand men could each take on ten, that only amounted to eight or ten thousand. In the eyes of a woman who had seen the world, that really wasn't much. "The Dragon King often goes around with a few thousand men, sometimes even just a few hundred, and they still look pretty impressive. Why can't the Iron Mountain troops do that? Is it because you aren't trying hard enough, or do you think I'm not paying you enough?"
The chiefs all lowered their heads and fell silent. Ever since Great Head God's death, they had all fallen on