Fatty ground his teeth; having spent time with the Sixteenth Division, he had long been familiar with how quickly these types could turn on you. To these warriors who tread on the edge of life and death, any authority was nonsense. They only bowed to absolute strength. In essence, Fatty himself was one of them, and this inherent sense of identity did not diminish much because of the rank on his shoulder.
"It's just a misunderstanding." Fatty turned his head to look at Jonathan.
"I'm sorry!" Jonathan, finally coming to his senses, looked at Fatty with a complex expression. Finally, he puffed out his chest and straightforwardly said, "I owe you a life!"
Fatty chuckled and felt quite pleased.
"General." Seeing Fatty was easy to talk to, Nash relaxed as well. The nearly thirty-year-old man grinned, revealing a set of white teeth in his dirty face, "It's better if you take off that uniform... hehe."
Fatty looked at his uniform and immediately jumped up, hastily taking it off.
