Consciousness drifted away...
This time, I must not die a gruesome death again.
Meng Fang had already reached the front lines at this time, where he was assigned under the command of General Fei Xinyu, becoming a supply soldier with the lowest rank.
Weapons were issued uniformly.
Meng Fang received a long spear.
He was practically inseparable from his spear, even when eating or sleeping. Whenever he had time, he practiced.
He had to make it back alive.
Rou Er is waiting for me!
What can I rely on to stay alive?
It's not luck but the spear in my hand!
Supply soldiers belonged to the third-class ice category and were even less important than reserve troops because such units rarely fought.
Many veterans were lax and indolent, just muddling through each day.
Among the whole unit, only Meng Fang practiced every day as if his life depended on it.
Many of the old soldiers pointed and commented: "The kid's gone mad!"
"Assigned to transport food and still wants to stand out?"