Night fell, and the cold wind was biting.
Inside the army camp, a man meticulously wiped every part of the armor in his hand, his fingertips caressing every dent.
"Heh, I say, are you ever that careful when you're in the red tents cuddling women?"
The squad leader lifted the curtain, walked into the tent, sat down on the rug, and immediately pulled off his shoes. Puffs of white steam immediately rose from his bare feet, and the stench of foot odor quickly filled the air.
But the man polishing the armor didn't seem to mind, apparently accustomed to such scenes. He responded, "Once you're in a red tent, holding a woman... it's like a starving man finally getting a meat bun. He'd want to swallow it whole, who'd bother to chew slowly?"
"True enough, haha."
The squad leader then pointed to the Black Dragon flag in the tent and said, "Starting tomorrow, you carry the flag."
