The sneer on A-Liang's face froze instantly.
His eyes, so accustomed to life and death, bulged as he stared fixedly at Chen Lin. His Adam's apple bobbed with a strained swallow.
He... he's really at late great vehicle?!
A-Liang felt as though someone had delivered a vicious kick to his Dao heart.
Leaving the Recruit Camp at the integration stage was an ironclad rule of the Myriad Worlds Battlefield. Even the most monstrous geniuses applied to leave the moment they broke through to body integration, heading to a theater command for better resources.
Who the hell would stay in the Recruit Camp's mines, where even spiritual energy was scarce, and grind all the way to late great vehicle before leaving?!
Was this guy insane?
Worse still, the Roster in his hands was a list of cannon fodder bound for the Third Theater Command. Assigning a peerlessly ruthless man who had cultivated to late great vehicle in the Recruit Camp to a suicide squad?
If this man crawled out of that meat grinder alive, the first person he tore apart would undoubtedly be A-Liang, the receiving officer!
A-Liang's attitude changed instantly. The cold severity vanished from his face, replaced by somewhat stiff warmth.
He put away the jade register, casually stepped closer, and lowered his voice. "Fellow Daoist Chen... how many years did you spend in that hellhole of a Recruit Camp?"
As far as he was concerned, building up late great vehicle cultivation in those resource-starved mines would require at least eight or ten thousand years of mining.
Chen Lin glanced at him, his tone as flat as ever. "Less than fifty years."
"..."
A-Liang's breath abruptly stopped.
Fifty... years?
Had mining in the Recruit Camp made him so stupid he couldn't even count time anymore?
Instinctively, A-Liang extended a