“Today is the day for the Command Office meeting, Dave, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was just transferred back yesterday. I need to report in now, but they said I need an appointment to see the Chief Commander…”

“I see…” Jack Miller grabbed David Thompson by the arm. “I’ll take you in myself!”

David Thompson hesitated, “But it’s a Command Office meeting, and with my rank…”

“What are you afraid of! I’m here!” Jack Miller half-pushed, half-pulled David Thompson into the meeting room.

The meeting hadn’t started yet. Only a few people were scattered around the long, wide table.

“Come, let me introduce you!” Jack Miller pushed David Thompson forward. “This is the Border Army Commander, Matthew Foster! My old partner!”

Matthew Foster’s appearance and demeanor were completely different from Jack Miller’s. He was refined and neat, scholarly and gentle, wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, looking every bit the learned scholar. He shook hands with David Thompson very politely. “At the Hengchuan battle, you broke eighty thousand demon troops with thirty thousand men. Deputy Commander David, that’s quite impressive!”

“Not at all, sir, your reputation is widespread. I admire you greatly.” David Thompson wasn’t just being polite. Despite Matthew Foster’s frail, bookish appearance, he had shown great bravery in the recent campaign against the Liufeng family, leading from the front and charging ahead of his troops, who themselves were at the very front of the army. They were the first to storm the Liufeng family’s border stronghold, Lanling. But when the fearsome Gavin Brooks Jr. appeared, he was also the first to run—so fast that…

It’s said that Gavin Brooks Jr. once commented on Matthew Foster’s troops like this: “When I first saw them, I could reach them with my saber; by the time I drew my saber, I thought a spear would be needed; when I turned to grab a spear, they’d already run so far I’d need a bow and arrow; and by the time I nocked an arrow, they’d run so far even cannons couldn’t reach them!”

Recently, almost every border army general had suffered defeat at the hands of Gavin Brooks Jr., except him. That’s why he was promoted to Border Army Commander a month ago.

“This is Commander Raymond Grant, Central Army Commander, also the family’s ‘number one expert’!” When Jack Miller said “number one expert,” his tone was dripping with sarcasm.

David Thompson knew that Raymond Grant was a staunch supporter of Emily Harris, and had won first place in the Zichuan army’s martial arts tournament for five consecutive years with his “Wind and Thunder Divine Skill,” hence the title “number one expert.” He was also famous for another reason: before every final, his opponents would mysteriously either get diarrhea, get hit by a carriage, have their wives and children suddenly kidnapped, or even get knocked silly in a dark alley with a stick… In the end, they all forfeited.

He gave David Thompson a fake smile and shook his hand. “You’re quite capable, young man! Already a deputy commander at such a young age.” Secretly, he used his “Wind and Thunder Divine Skill,” intending to make David Thompson cry out in pain and embarrass himself—or else cripple his hand!

Jack Miller, sensing something was wrong, was about to intervene, but David Thompson simply said, “All thanks to your guidance, sir!” and easily withdrew his hand, as if nothing had happened.

“This is Commander Michael Smith, Chief of Staff at headquarters.” Michael Smith was already middle-aged, with a cold, stern look, his face dark as if everyone in the world owed him money and refused to pay. He was also a trusted confidant of Emily Harris.

David Thompson originally wanted to shake his hand, but the other party made no move to do so. After a moment’s hesitation, he simply introduced himself: “David Thompson greets you, sir.”

Michael Smith remained cold and aloof, finally grunting a nasal “Mm!” and nothing more.

“Don’t mind him, he’s like a block of wood, treats everyone the same.” Jack Miller said bluntly, not caring that Michael Smith was right there.

Strangely, Michael Smith didn’t get angry, just let out another deep nasal “Hmph!”

Next was the introduction of the Imperial Guard Commander, Peter Wood, an old man over eighty, so senile he was already muddle-headed. When David Thompson greeted him, he had to repeat himself three times before the old man understood: “Oh, oh… your name is David Thompson, right? Oh, you’re so young… I’m Peter Wood.”

Everyone present struggled not to burst out laughing. His accent was so slurred that “Peter Wood” sounded just like “buttocks”!

David Thompson maliciously guessed, “Did Emily Harris appoint such a useless person as Imperial Guard Commander to make it easier to stage a coup in the future?”

“There’s someone here just like you, also rushed over from the Far East—Commander George Evans, you should know him, right?”

It was David Thompson’s first time meeting George Evans, and he was immediately struck by his appearance and demeanor. George Evans was a very delicate-looking man, surely a handsome youth in his younger days. His soft hair fell loosely over his forehead, already tinged with yellow, and his gently arched brows gave him an extremely gentle look.

It was clear he was ill—his face was as pale as paper. Even in the sweltering August heat, he was wrapped in a thick winter military coat, only his head exposed, and he was even shivering a little, as if his battle with illness had drained the last of his life’s energy. Yet his eyes were still as bright as stars, filled with deep wisdom and exhaustion, as if he had seen through all the world’s affairs. When he looked at David Thompson, there was such profound warmth and concern… What a pair of eyes!