Accompanied by a report from the Messenger, General Oliveira strode into Marshal Martin's tent from the outside.
"Good day, Marshal Martin," Oliveira saluted to Marshal Martin in a standard military manner; after all, he was from Milan, and many things in his bones were hard to change.
Marshal Martin's face revealed a gentle smile as he said, "Have a seat," pointing to the chair beside him, and he ordered the servant to bring tea.
Watching his grandson sitting upright with the demeanor of an iron-blooded soldier, Marshal Martin couldn't help but nod inwardly. In this generation of the family, this grandson was truly outstanding—not in terms of martial prowess, but tactically, he was unmatched by his two brothers. If it continued this way, he would surpass them in no time.