Fang Xiang glared fiercely at Fatty.
"No way!" Fatty put on a dumb, stubborn look, rolling his eyes at Fang Xiang on the comms screen: "So what if your eyes are big? Glaring at me won't work, if I say I'm not doing it, I'm not doing it!"
In the control room of the Napoleon Battleship, the officers exchanged bewildered glances. Chekov and Carl from the bandit army's third-party comms line struggled to hold back their laughter. No one had expected the negotiations between Fatty and Fang Xiang to turn out like this.
This was no negotiation. From the start of their conversation, everyone saw it as a war intense enough to be described as a battle of knives, swords, and bullets. And now, the war had entered a white-hot phase, evolving from long-distance firing to hand-to-hand bargaining.
It had to be admitted, Fang Xiang, as a woman, had a considerable advantage in this area.
