"Thank you leader."
"All is going smoothly."
The so-called Resistance Army,
seems tight-knit, but is in reality rather loose.
After all,
every member of the organization was once the unquestionable genius and Son of Fortune in their respective worlds.
Such characters, such temperaments.
Although they gather together under a common goal.
It's almost impossible for them to be as clear-cut in their hierarchical structure as the Subordinates' camp.
Therefore,
Lu Yang and other key members of the Resistance Army mostly reside in different worlds, rarely meeting each other.
It is only when tasks are assigned that they would go to headquarters to report.
It has been several years since he last saw Zuo Wei.
After exchanging brief pleasantries,
Lu Yang turned to look at the leader seated in the middle chair.
"Greetings, Nine Yang Zi leader."
He is an old man in a white robe with white hair and beard, looking like an immortal master.