However, it is not a pity that even if you lose the cultivation of the demon clan. The son of the Desolate God will naturally be unparalleled in luck. It is natural that the cultivation level will grow rapidly. Maybe it is faster than cultivating demons. This is great for him to be unimaginable.

If it were in the past, he would have agreed without hesitation. As long as he could go to the cracks in the space, he would not care about the rules of the world. But at this moment, he was silent, silent for no reason. He was not suspicious of Huang Sheng, but he believed, but he was silent. "You have a way to make me understand, right?"

Zhang Yang cannot speak, but he can also use his spiritual sense to transmit voice.

"I can burn half of my soul so that you can directly enter that realm without experiencing it." The burning half of the soul... Zhang Yang's pupils shrank slightly. Although he had never touched the soul, he could tell how important the soul is when thinking about the importance of the soul to a person. How much does it cost to burn half of the soul?

He felt the weight of the next sentence more, Zhang Yang's heart became heavier and silent... Because Zhang Yang knew that he was not the person Huang Sheng said to protect his tribe and cruelly treat his enemies... He was possessed because he was chased by the Heipeng tribe.

He wanted to survive... He killed all the people in the Heipeng tribe because the other party wanted to kill him, and the clan prince was forced to enter the space crack inexplicably. He wanted to vent his anger... He ignored his body and left a comfortable living environment for the tribe.

It was because he wanted to fulfill his wishes... everything... was for what he thought in his heart, and more for himself... but all this was buried deep in his heart and had never said it. Although Huang Sheng watched his every move along the way, he could not see through his heart.

A long black hair fluttered in the breeze, slowly burned by the ball of energy. Zhang Yang raised his burned and charred face and looked at the red dress in front of him. Although he was still black, the wrinkles on his face had left a mark in the past of time. He looked at himself with anticipation, and his eyes showed full of praise and expectation.

As he looked at Zhang Yang's eyes, he seemed to see another figure slowly overlapping with Huang Sheng. It was a white-haired old man in a coarse linen. He often smiled kindly and looked at his tribe on a small hill. Children were playing, women were making fires and cooking, and middle-aged people were hunting hard.

The fragrance of food in the tribe was floating, and laughter was bursting. The white-haired old man smiled kindly, and his turbid old eyes were full of warmth. There was also a boy beside him. The boy was dressed in black, and there was no trace of joy, anger, sorrow and happiness on his indifferent face. He was silent, withdrawn, lonely, and only occasionally smiled at the white-haired old man. He wiped the black sword in his hand and looked at the peaceful tribe below. He didn't feel anything in his heart. He often looked at the clouds that were very white in the sky, but still very dark in his heart, and murmured to himself: "What are he happy about in the clan master?"

He didn't understand, he was very confused. He didn't understand the love of the tribe, and he didn't need that love. He only knew who was good to him, and he would treat him well. No one else was his business. Sometimes the white-haired old man would tell him: "Xiao Ran, this kind of feeling is called concern, heart-to-heart talk, called home..." The boy smiled faintly: "I have never had a home since I was a child..." Zhang Yang's eyes were not wet, and two white smoke rose from his eyes and turned into a faint green smoke circling over his head. At this time, he had already understood what relatives were and what home was.

The clan master is a relative, and the place where the clan master is called home... The white-haired old man overlaps with Huang Sheng's figure and gradually merges together. The two have different appearances, but they are so similar. "Why choose me? I am a foreign tribe, an mortal tribe, not a Huang tribe. You should kill me like the Huang god, instead of letting me continue to cultivate Huang and then know Huang's secrets."

Zhang Yang's spiritual sense transmission became low at this time. After hearing this, Huang Sheng curled his lips slightly contemptuously: "Huang Shen is an old antique. His thinking is too rigid and he doesn't know how to adapt. In my opinion, whether it is a white dog or a black dog, as long as it can protect the flock of sheep, it is a good dog." "But there are so many good dogs, why do you still choose me?" "Because you are grateful and have the ability to go to the top, I want to go back to my hometown to see it, but I haven't been back for a long time..."

"Aren't you a Huang clan? Isn't this your hometown?" "Not here..." A trace of recollection appeared in Huang Shen's eyes, and then looked at Zhang Yang gently: "Then are you willing to be the son of Huang Shen?" Are you willing?

Zhang Yang smiled bitterly in his heart. He didn't want to deceive the person who was good to him. He could indeed use any ruthless means to survive, but he had his own bottom line and his own principles.

But he nodded lightly: "I am willing to be the son of the God of Waste."

The low and bitterness in Zhang Yang's tone were directly ignored by the ecstatic Huangsheng at this time. He laughed and pointed at his chest. Suddenly, his originally extremely solid body began to gradually become illusory, and his face became extremely painful.
Chapter completed!