"Brother Shaoyuan was an extraordinarily lucky man."
Lu Defang did not notice Wang Chen's gaze. He seemed to have fallen into his memories. "Ever since I first met him, his luck had always been good."
Wang Shaoyuan had come from the mortal world.
For an ordinary mortal to travel tens of thousands of miles to the Cultivation World, luck was indispensable besides his own strength.
Later, Wang Shaoyuan Entered Dao through Martial Arts, advanced to become a Qi Condensation cultivator, and became an outer sect disciple of the Yunyang Sect.
He left his peers far behind once again.
Lu Defang had known Wang Shaoyuan since they were nobodies and had personally witnessed the latter's growth, step by step!
In Lu Defang's eyes, his friend's luck had truly been very, very good.
A little too good.
Whenever everyone formed teams to hunt, others often ran into trouble—if they were not injured, they lost their lives.
Wang Shaoyuan always emerged unscathed.
And with considerable gains besides.
He had even bought a house in the city, married, had children, and truly put down roots.
That was a house in Yunyang City!
Like all bottom-layer cultivators, Lu Defang dreamed of owning one.
Though Wang Shaoyuan's wife later died of illness, Lu Defang felt that was nothing at all.
With a house in the city, was he afraid he would not find another beautiful bride?
Yet Wang Shaoyuan never remarried.
Lu Defang thought he was being overly sentimental.
What truly bred immense resentment in Lu Defang toward Wang Shaoyuan was their experience exploring a secret realm deep within the Tianyuan Mountain Range together.
"There were nine of us in all back then."
As Lu Defang spoke, his expression became incomparably grim. "In the end, only he and I came out alive!"
"He was completely unharmed,