Wang Qianqian sat upright at the very front of the Ling Province faction. The purity and smiles she had once possessed had long vanished from her face. She was no longer the Young Clan Head sheltered by her elders, but the helmsman of the Wutong Wang Clan, bearing all the pressure of the clan's rise.
This was the most glorious period the Wang Clan had seen in centuries, but also the time of greatest pressure. The growing pains of advancing from a Foundation Establishment Family to a Purple Mansion Clan continually tormented her mind, and the pressure was no less than what Song Xianming had borne in his day.
This Grand Clan Meeting was the first she had attended. Looking around, she saw nothing but Purple Mansion Great Cultivators, while the overt and covert gazes behind her pricked at her back like thorns.
All those gazes seemed to be telling her one fact: "Her virtue did not match her position."
Her face was calm as a placid lake, yet cold sweat had already seeped into her palms.
Ling Province was the birthplace of the Song Clan. The Wang Clan had been able to take the lead there entirely because of the Song Clan's trust and esteem, earned by their unwavering loyalty when the Song Clan had been at its lowest ebb.
This was what the Wang Clan took the greatest pride in.
And the Song Clan had indeed rewarded them beyond measure, showering them with the utmost favor.
When Wang Wanzhou passed away, Song Changsheng personally came to offer condolences. When Wang Qingquan fell, Song Xianming personally attended as well.
Across the four states, no other clan received such treatment.
Yet as the older generation of cultivators gradually withered away, the Wang Clan slowly realized that they and the Song