Yang Fan didn't move, nor did Murong Yan, who was sitting on his lap; everything depended on Yang Fan to make decisions.
Yang Fan smiled slightly: "Mr. Martins, there's no deal between us, so how could I go back on my word?"
"You..." Martins pointed angrily at Yang Fan: "This is my bottom line. Since you don't keep your word, then we'll fight to the death."
Yang Fan laughed again, looking at Martins with the same mocking expression: "To be honest, Mr. Martins, you're finished. You're still dreaming your grand dreams and talking about fighting to the death; your end has come. What will you use to fight to the death?"
"Are you joking?" Martins flatly refused to believe Yang Fan's nonsense.
"Before coming here, I went to the Third Army base over a hundred kilometers away. Calculating the time, General Brooke has already entered the city, and your thousands of troops have become cannon fodder."
Martins yelled angrily: "You're lying, it's impossible."
