Expectations of Creating a Race

More than six hundred years later, in Bai Yang's underground space.

Luo Feng sat in a chair in the living room and could not help sighing. "So something like that had happened. No wonder General Xue Yong had been so enthusiastic."

Bai Yang sat opposite him and chuckled. "That man is interesting. He hardly seems like a soldier. After figuring out the relationship between you and me, he put in more effort than anyone else."

By then, several days had passed since Luo Feng returned to the Eastern Army Camp. Today, he had specifically come over.

A delicate ring suddenly appeared in his hand, which he held out to Bai Yang.

"Brother Bai, this..."