Fu Qingjun looked at the little creature with a tuft of hair on its head, born wet among its kind, and slightly raised the corner of his mouth, "A poor little girl from the World War II era, who just learned the concept of systematic martial arts cultivation, traversing into the primitive civilization I created—what kind of changes will she bring to this post-apocalyptic wasteland, the Demon Country?"
If it doesn't work out, at least she can leave her race before dying, it would be a flying intelligent creature, with wings...
If she can create some miracles, it would be even better...
Fu Qingjun mused for a moment and decided to leave her be, he could still see things quite clearly.
After all, his hair was only responsible for creating civilizations and races,
"It seems, I can't be too greedy! I'll create a factory assembly line here, producing clocks and medicinal wine." After the first experience, he could just follow suit.
