Yan Qingsang cackled with glee. He hadn’t felt much of a sense of belonging to House Yan before, but his loyalties had rested there in the end. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have opposed Jiang Chen’s initial wooing of his cousin Yan Qinghuang so vehemently.
His disappointment with his house had developed gradually. The attempt on his grandfather’s life, in particular, had utterly crushed any remaining hopes. House Yan had betrayed him, not the other way around.
The conclusion freed Yan Qingsang from the chains of negativity.
He cared little for Xiahou Zong’s mockery. “Brother.” He turned to Jiang Chen. “It’s your turn to shine this time. That guy over there has run amok for many, many years. It’s high time he was taught a lesson.”
Jiang Chen sighed softly, becoming suddenly pensive. He didn’t know why, but he was reminded of his prior conversation with the sacred land’s venerated forefather—about the dangers lurking beneath the surface.
He hadn’t quite understood...