An old man like this was, by virtue of his vast experience and knowledge alone, a treasure vault that could never be exhausted. The saying, "An old man who refuses to die becomes a demon," might sound unpleasant, but it truly captured a certain truth.
To the Ye Family, people like him were treasures. Strength was not the key—within the Ye Family, powerful experts were everywhere—but not everyone possessed such experience.
"Old Ye!" Ye Xiwen hurriedly bowed respectfully. Whether in strength, seniority, experience, or age, the man deserved this bow from Ye Xiwen. Though Ye Xiwen had never heard his name before, people like him were figures who had once stirred the winds and clouds countless years ago. How many people still remembered them now?
As the saying went, a new generation replaced the old.
"You are too courteous, hall master," Old Ye said mildly. "This old man is merely a body with one foot in the grave, nothing worth mentioning—just someone waiting to die. Being able to contribute one last bit to the Ye Family is already an honor."
Old Ye was as calm as drifting clouds and a gentle breeze, having long seen through life and death. Even when speaking of death—a subject that made ordinary people pale—his expression remained unchanged. It showed how powerful his heart was, far beyond what ordinary people could imagine.
"You are too modest, Old Ye. Did you not watch me grow up as well?" Ye Zhentian rarely showed such a gentle side. Usually, he presented only an iron-blooded, hard-edged image to others.
This showed just how extraordinary Old Ye's position was in Ye Zhentian's heart.
Ye Xiwen did not dare neglect him either.
"Ye Xiwen, from now on, Old Ye will be responsible for your cultivation. If there is anything you do