The domineering president fell in love with the horrified me

When Walpole's words passed through Steele's ears, he couldn't help but look sideways. Why didn't they make Long Batian's heroic deeds public, but instead attributed the honor to the Guards? Although the Guards did make hard efforts, if Long Batian hadn't broken into the enemy's camp alone at the critical moment, it would have been difficult to win the battle. The real hero of this battle should be that young man.

However, Walpole ignored Steele's eye contact.

"Of course!" Lord Bosi nodded in approval. "This time I specially mobilized 120 guards. Together with the previous number, the total has reached more than people. Captain Walpole, is this enough? I was quite satisfied with your performance last time. I have reported the good news of the victory here to the Northern Pan-European Empire."

Lord Bosi's words shocked the two people present, but the lord obviously had no intention of giving them too much time to think, and he found an excuse to drive them out of the tent.

"Less than half of the guards survived last time, and some were seriously injured. Only a dozen people can barely walk. From the tone of Lord Bosi, I thought he gave us thousands of men, but it turned out to be just over a hundred people who were gathered slowly like squeezing toothpaste?" As soon as Steele walked out of the big tent room, he couldn't help but start complaining loudly.

Walpole, standing by, smiled, patted Steele's arm, shook his head slightly and sighed.

Inside this spacious tent, beautiful snow was falling outside, while the room was warm as spring, filled with a cheerful atmosphere. People were toasting each other, and those who survived by chance drank old wine, indulging in drunkenness, as if trying to forget the tragic battle of today, because who knows if they will have the opportunity to taste good wine next time?

"Cheers!!" The crisp sound of wine glasses colliding.

"Cheers!" Many people raised their glasses to Long Batian. Long Batian returned the greetings one by one to show his gratitude.

Jiabai and others also toasted to Long Batian.

"Thanks to Brother Batian for his great military achievements!" Bobby expressed his gratitude eagerly.

"It's all based on luck!" Long Batian secretly criticized Debbie in his heart, thinking that it would be better to leave such things that attract attention to others.

"Batian, your performance is truly jaw-dropping! I thought you were just a new recruit, but I didn't expect you to be so brave. You must have the strength of three stars or above!" Jiabai was already drunk and looked at the young man in front of him with great satisfaction.

"I'm afraid it's more than that? Maybe it's even closer to four-star strength!" Bobby asked with shining eyes.

"That's right! The centurion commander is only a four-star rank, yet he is still surrounded by the enemy. In my opinion, Tyrant should be a five-star rank to be more realistic!"

"That makes sense! So, may I ask, Brother Batian, what star are you at?"

Facing everyone's curious questions, Long Batian replied with a bit of embarrassment: "To be honest, I am actually sporadic..."

"What? It's actually six stars? That really scares me, no wonder the combat power is so amazing! It is said that only the personal guards under Lord Boss have such strength." After hearing this, Wade was so scared that he drank the wine glass in his hand.

"Ahem - actually, I have sporadic fighting spirit..." Long Batian repeated awkwardly.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, Brother Batian, you don't have to worry! We will never blame you for this!" Bing Ye comforted him with a face full of understanding. After hearing what Bing Ye said, everyone immediately laughed, thinking that Long Batian might be being modest.

"So what if it's six-star fighting spirit? Can one person resist thousands of rebels?" An untimely voice suddenly sounded.

Everyone frowned and looked towards the source of the voice. It turned out to be a soldier from the Guards. Now, there were only a dozen of them left out of the original one hundred Guards, drinking to drown their sorrows. As many as seventy or eighty of their comrades had died or were seriously injured, making these Guards full of pessimism about the upcoming battle.