Chai Han snorted coldly at Zhou Pancheng's words.
" The Demonic Blood Tree only bears one fruit every 49 years, and it's still one of the three most precious treasures of our sect. Of course, it's not something ordinary treasures can compare to. "
He took a deep breath. " Every time the year of the Demonic Blood Tree's fruition is approaching, which of the young disciples of the cult doesn't have expectations? Even when you and I were young, knowing that our chances were slim, how could we not fantasize about a strange fate falling from the sky and being blessed by luck?"
" Chen Luoyang doesn't need to fantasize, " Zhou Pancheng said. " When he was still in his mother's womb, he had already made a reservation. "
Chai Han shook his head. " It's all fate. What changed his and the Head Chief's fate wasn't a fruit of the Demonic Blood Tree. It was a thought of the old cult master. "
