On the northern sea of the island, the flag of the Graythorn Battle Group flapped vigorously in the wind.
In the captain's cabin of the flagship, Ralph with a cigar in his mouth, sat comfortably and dominantly, reviewing the information handed over by the intelligence officer, his brow tightly knit.
The commander of the Graythorn Legion was a middle-aged man with a burly build, sharp features, and a face full of scars, his muscular arms covered with fierce scars.
"Horn is actually planning to attack the Southern Capital of Ark and wants me to split my troops to hold off the Golden Armored Soldiers and Ark War Chariots in the Northern and Eastern Borders?"
Ralph exhaled a puff of smoke and turned to the Chief of Staff nearby: "Nico, what do you think?"
"I think it is indeed a good opportunity, Commander."
