He took a sip.
It was sweet, definitely to the taste of the Grassland Elves—sweetness was the key.
After all, the Grassland Elves were a true artificial race. Even with mixed blood, they would eliminate the bad genes of other races, creating new lives free from many genetic diseases, including diabetes.
To be honest, creating life to this extent, the creators themselves weren't much different from gods.
Being born really was a technical skill.
Thinking this, Durin nodded, "Not bad."
"Of course, the wine I choose is always the tastiest and most suitable for us Grassland Elves." Having said that, Romiel took out a few chips and threw them in front of the last card player, "My little Mira, why are you so quiet today?"
The one called Little Mira rolled her eyes.
The red-haired card player laughed, "His throat is hoarse, the poor guy. He screamed himself hoarse yesterday following his mentor into the sky."
