Wang Yan and the others swaggered back to the little courtyard where they had stayed before. A group of cannon fodder was still there, lazily basking in the sun and picking lice off themselves.
Their departure—and Wang Yan later gathering nearly all the routed soldiers in this direction—had not left the place deserted.
There would always be cannon fodder, batch after batch...
Seeing them enter, the new cannon fodder in the courtyard all rose nervously.
Wang Yan waved with a cheerful smile. "Brothers, keep doing whatever you were doing. We used to stay in this courtyard too. We just came back for a look. Don't let us disturb your leisure."
Though he said that, the cannon fodder still stood obediently. The survival wisdom of little people was to treat the words of important people as bullshit.
Before Wang Yan had even entered, the soldiers of the armed guard company had already filed in and formed up. It was obvious they were big shots—how could these men dare move carelessly?
"This place is going more and more to hell." Mi Long sneered. "I remember when that Yu came to sweet-talk us, I was lying right there in that hammock. I didn't even give him a proper look."
"Of course. Who did you think you were? The tyrant of the reception station." Fan La jabbed at him. "Even Old Deng trembled whenever he saw you."
"Don't talk nonsense. I was just scared of losing. This bastard cheated with the dice."
Everyone turned toward the voice. Who else could it be but that chubby Old Deng from the reception station?
"Commander Wang, I truly never expected such a small temple of mine to host a great Buddha like you. That expedition to Myanmar was just like a dragon entering the sea—you soared straight