Demon Beasts and Giant Weng, dragging or carrying their loads, transported enormous quantities of supplies from the Logistics Supply Base to the front. The scene was incredibly busy, yet highly orderly.
On a Lookout Tower inside the logistics base, a small pot had been set up to simmer fish soup. The broth was milky white and gave off an enticing aroma.
Lister added chopped scallions, cilantro, ground pepper, salt, and sesame oil to a small bowl in turn, then took out a bottle of Aromatic Vinegar he had begged from the Legion Commander and poured in a little.
He picked up a ladle, added some fish soup, stirred it gently with a small spoon, and took a sip:
"Ah... this is living."
"Hahaha."
Old White laughed, then picked up his bowl to ladle out some soup too. Both old men loved fish, and getting a pot of delicious fish soup going in the desert was truly an incomparable pleasure.
Just like priests in secular churches: if they lived refined, luxurious lives, it at least proved one thing-the "god" they believed in answered prayers. These two old men managed the legion's logistics, and their comfortable little lives were also an indirect indication that the legion had plentiful supplies.
Still, comfortable as they were, neither neglected his work in the slightest. Three desks had been set up behind each of them, with pens hovering above them, continuously writing on the reports and documents below.
They were, after all, professors from the Divine Temple archives. This workload really was nothing to them.
While drinking their fish soup, they checked the accounts together:
"Has this shipment arrived?"
"Yes."
"Did this shipment arrive in full?"
"Yes."
"Anything missing from this shipment?"
"No, they even added another twelve percent."
"Having the Whip Bearer overseeing logistics really