Qi mo laughed bitterly. He really did not know how those people who thought that Zhao Hai wanted to control the desolate race would react if they heard Zhao Hai's words. In their eyes, Zhao Hai was a Supreme figure, but in Zhao Hai's eyes, he was nothing. It was a sad thing.
Looking at the sky from the bottom of a well. Qi mo suddenly thought of this phrase. But to be honest, he also felt that the desolate race did not need Zhao Hai to lead them.
