Ancient willows reached for the sky, their trunks broad and stout, as the two of them faced each other wordlessly.
At this moment, Xu Yuan felt he should say something.
For instance, that Tian Ye's words were false, explanations of the sort that tried to suggest incitement and discord.
After all, in this era akin to a black society of cultivation, not believing any information divulged by enemies was the most basic quality for survival in this world.
But as the words reached his lips, they instead retreated back down his throat.
Such explanations would seem far too revealing in their attempt to cover up the truth.
The Thousand-Thorn Ghost Willow had long harbored designs on his body, and faced with such a carefully prepared vessel-seizing plan from a Saint Level Ghost, he, Xu Yuan, as a mere Primordial, ought rightly and indeed to have no power to resist.
Yet, the reality was that he had survived and had even turned the tables to puppeteer the other party.
