In Jiangzhong, they were figures who stood high above the rest, their status unparalleled and transcendent. They all trained hard here, bearing the safety of Jiangzhong on their shoulders. Without them, Jiangzhong would never be so peaceful. As long as they were present, no one dared to act too rashly.
And Yang Xue, as the commander of the Jiangzhong military camp, held a position of immense authority.
Yang Xue had just lit a slim cigarette and was reclining on a plush chair, lost in thought. Just then, her phone began to ring urgently.
When Yang Xue saw the caller ID, she shot to her feet, her expression becoming one of utmost respect.
"Yang Xue, how is the matter progressing?" a deep voice came through from the other end.
"Wang Ming said he bought it from an old scrap collector. It was about three years ago; his memory is a bit hazy." Yang Xue held nothing back, recounting the events.
"And what are your thoughts on this?" the deep voice asked again.
