The Cursed Yin gritted its teeth until they nearly shattered.
It was keenly aware of its descent into this chess game, helplessly watching itself being manipulated into following the predetermined path.
How it wished the Medicine Ancestor could be a bit more perceptive and see the real scoundrels hiding behind it.
But if it approached the Medicine Ancestor now, he wouldn't believe it; he'd merely shake his head and laugh, eyes filled with contempt.
How it wished that, since the Medicine Ancestor was so foolish, he might as well be a bit more foolish and relinquish his path to it, to cease the struggle.
But its current plight ultimately stemmed from that Sacred Farmer Hundred Grass, who, like it, laid deep, far-reaching plans since the Divine Battle.
Wolves in front, tigers behind, surrounded by leopards and jackals.
It alone fancied itself as the revival of the Divine Relic, with a long-term vision.
