"Something doesn't smell right!" Fatty stared at the long-range viewer, looking at the leisurely advancing Blood Shadow Mecha Group, frowning. The disappearance of the two armored camps made him realize that the situation seemed not to be entirely under his control, and consequently, a vague sense of threat lingered.
The Blood Shadow Mecha Group continued to advance, with one hundred and twenty Mechas at the front already crossing the Lorenzo No.5 Bridge. The convoy in the middle was gradually making its way through.
"Colonel!" Seeing the Blood Shadow Mecha Group about to enter the ambush zone, Kolt couldn't help but ask, "Should we attack?"
Fatty didn't respond. He silently looked at the electronic sand table, his brain functioning like a high-speed machine. His chubby hands rapidly typed on the keyboard, and simulation steps continuously flipped on the screen, with one simulation icon after another appearing on the electronic sand table like bubbles surfacing from a lake.
