Cang Jinyun's words were vicious, and at the same time they were like a sharp knife viciously stabbing into Hua Tiandu's inner world.
Then when he connected it with all the bits and pieces of following Lin Zifeng for more than half a year, and Lin Zifeng's ruthless, cut‑throat way of doing things, once he thought about it like that, he really felt he was just a dumbass.
He'd followed him for so long—women, didn't get any; all the blessings of beauty had been scooped up by him alone.
Power, he didn't get any power either; now the Holy Hall was being controlled by a bunch of women.
Even Shao Huo, who started out as just a student, was in charge of three hundred thousand disciples on the Holy Hall's outer perimeter; Black Hawk, Bu Chen, Huo Zhengfeng, Shuobude, those guys were the ones holding the hard power inside the Holy Hall.
And he and Cang Zhou, these two late‑joining members, what had they gotten?
So many times, secret planned operations, they weren't included at all.
