"Internal strife? What's there to fight over for a mere Stronghold Master?" Before I could speak, Zhang Zidao, who kept his head down to hide his face, said in a deep voice, "Could it be... the stronghold has been infiltrated by the Ten Thousand Poison Hall?"
Granny Long looked Zhang Zidao up and down, then sheathed her Demon-Subduing Pestle at her waist, "Your insight is profound. The infiltrated person's identity is not simple; it's from Chief Yan's direct lineage."
"Oh, a son rebelling against the stronghold?" Zhang Zidao's tone was indifferent, as if he had understood it all along.
From the sudden flash of clarity in Granny Long's eyes, one could tell that the old man had definitely guessed correctly.
To conceal one's identity and yet seek to stand out.
Isn't that just trying to have one's cake and eat it, too? Things aren't that easy.
