Chan Zi furrowed his brows for a moment,
"According to what you say, all the good stuff gets snatched up by those high-realm, strong-mana Immortals, and us barefoot folks trying to make a living can't even catch a fart?"
Chen Xuantian shrugged, tossed the bone back, and clapped his hands,
"You're right about that. Ninety-nine percent of the world's good things are divided among those old Demon Path Ancestors.
What people are fighting for with their lives now is just the leftover scraps from between the fingers of others.
It's like eating leftover Taotie Bone, just the bone garbage and kitchen waste that others left. Hmph, and yet people still fight over it, it can even pass through several more hands."
Chan Zi was speechless. There was nothing hard to understand; as child laborers, weren't they living off the kitchen waste of the Nangong Family right now?
But Chen Xuantian looked around,
"Do you have a pot?"
"You're hungry? I've got pancakes."
