"That Fatty! Show-off!"
Watching that white Mecha bounding up and down among the two armies locked in a death struggle on the rolling slope below, Li Cunxin stood akimbo, cursing with a beaming smile.
The command posts of the 1st and 2nd echelons had already merged; the officers, high-spirited, stood on the hillside, hands behind their backs, spectating. Hearing Li Cunxin's laughing curse, Pei Litong's eyelids drooped a little, the officers exchanged glances, and their expressions all turned a bit odd.
Nobody knew the Old Marshal's temper better than they did. In this tone, never mind ordinary people—even his own son Admiral Li Hongwu had never enjoyed it. Just looking at the old man's cheerful face, you could tell how perfectly that Fatty, who glared at him big-eye to small-eye all day long, suited his taste.
It was like a grandfather seeing his mischievous grandson! Even scolding him twice carried a bit of indulgent connivance.
