It had been a long time since we last spoke of the Martial Virtue Star Lord. Today, let us talk about him.
Ever since losing his godson Chang Sheng, Wude had pleaded illness and refused to come out, claiming that his immortal body was unwell and required quiet rest.
As for military affairs, he left them entirely to his right-hand men.
Every day, several deputy generals brought military reports to seek instructions outside his tent. They could not even catch a glimpse of the Martial Virtue Star Lord, only hear a weak cough or two through the thick tent curtains.
Even when Chen Wei sent Ma Muzhi to invite Wude to a meeting, the fellow kept his doors shut and refused to see him.
Chang Sheng was dead, and the Star Mirror was lost.
If Wude dared take even half a step outside the camp, demons might suddenly appear and attack him-even on the road-and then saddle him with the glorious label of "killed in the line of duty."
So he made up his mind to be a turtle with its head tucked into its shell.
This was a heavily garrisoned camp of the Heavenly Soldiers and Generals, with defensive formations outside and fiercely loyal guards within.
As long as he hid inside his tent, however brazen the demons outside became, could they sprout wings, fly in, and kill him?
He only needed to drag things out.
Once he held out long enough for the South Dipper Star Lord to intervene, there would still be a chance to turn things around.
"Want to lay a finger on me? You're still too green." Wude set down his teacup, his gaze casually sweeping across the desk before him. His body stiffened. At some point, an azure jade slip had appeared right in