"..."
Seeing Ji Jue's complete disregard for pretense, Liang Mo's eye twitched uncontrollably, and he curiously asked, "Who sent you?"
"I don't know, I didn't ask."
Ji Jue shrugged indifferently, retorting, "Does it matter?"
Liang Mo was taken aback for a moment and then nodded in agreement.
He had indeed been in the military too long, accustomed to the internal struggles where everyone fought with fists, forgetting that besides being a craftsman, he was also a military representative and arms dealer.
Indeed, it doesn't matter.
Whether it happened or not, an opponent remains an opponent, and a life-or-death situation won't suddenly turn compassionate.
Money is a good thing, everyone wants it.
Even those Fuel Element tycoons and experts in Central Earth, military colleagues, and many craftsmen—people who seem not to lack money—are precisely the ones who need it the most.
Just that what they want can no longer be purchased with money.
