In the underground chamber.
The candlelight flickered, casting the indistinct figures of Zhang Ye and Zhang Le onto the walls, where their shadows danced wildly like falling leaves.
Meanwhile, inside Zhang Le's sea of consciousness, the Demonic Thought of Zhang Chi stood with his hands behind his back. He smiled faintly and thought to himself:
'You foolish boy, you truly possess seven-tenths of my flair. No matter what schemes I concocted, I struggled to find an opening.'
'But now, I've still come out one step ahead!'
'Heh, you are probably unaware that Fang Yang far surpasses his ancestor, Fang Nian. Therefore, let me be the one to carry on the struggle between the Fang and Zhang clans.'
The Demonic Thought of Zhang Chi believed he had victory in his grasp, that everything was under his control.
But he had forgotten that over time, the roles of hunter and prey can be reversed.
A luminous pearl bloomed with pure white light, illuminating the dark chamber.
