He wore a simple gray combat suit, his stance not particularly imposing, yet he resembled an immovable mountain.
On his face, a mask formed out of pure golden thunder.
Thunder God!
Beneath the mask, no one could discern his expression.
Yet the slightly raised chin and the gaze projecting through the mask's eyeholes.
Brought an aloofness and absolute confidence that looked down upon everything.
He was the faith of these people.
Fang Qingyu's gaze slowly swept over the faces before him, whether young or weathered, all written with determination and fervor.
No lengthy motivational speech before the battle.
No passionate emotional speeches.
Just standing there quietly.
A moment later, a voice calm without the slightest ripple arose:
"Tonight."
"Victory in battle!"
Three words, brief and powerful.
"Victory!!!"
"Victory!!!"
"Victory!!!"
After a brief silence came a thunderous roar.
