Zhang Chunlin had been in the Demon Realm for twenty years. Sometimes, he would think that with his third-rank Martial Dao cultivation, he should be able to live for two hundred years.
Living for a long time was sometimes a good thing, but sometimes it wasn't.
As a prisoner of a demonic beast, Zhang Chunlin sometimes envied those whose cultivation levels were lower than his. They could just simply die.
If he wanted to die, he naturally had a chance. But he didn't want to commit suicide. There was still hope in his heart. If he could escape the claws of the demonic beast one day…
But he knew that this hope was very slim. Even if he could escape from this demonic beast, where could he escape to in the Demon Realm?
"You, come out!"
On this day, Zhang Chunlin was roughly dragged out of the dungeon by a demonic beast.
It was called a dungeon, but it was actually a cellar. It was cold, damp, and cramped.
