That mocking voice rang out.
Qin Fan and the seventeen soldiers on the ground turned their heads in unison.
They saw a man of about thirty, dressed in simple practice clothes, walking ahead of two lieutenant colonels. He was striding toward Qin Fan, shaking his head disdainfully.
"Was that you speaking just now?" Qin Fan asked the man, tilting his head slightly.
"That's right!" the middle-aged man snorted, his hands clasped behind his back and his face full of mockery.
"Are you saying my soldiers are trash?" Qin Fan asked again, the corners of his mouth curling into a chilling smile.
Anyone who knew him would see that smile and realize someone was about to be in serious trouble.
