The icy voice slowly rang out from the Xiao Clan's seat of honor.
At that moment, everyone present, including Saint Tong Xuan, seemed to have been frozen in place, staring blankly ahead.
A Half-Saint was unworthy of crowning him?
If those words had come from anyone else, they would have drawn countless sneers.
Yet when Xiao Yan said them, though every word dripped with arrogance, no one could bring themselves to criticize him.
The Xiao Clan of old had indeed been worthy of such status.
Even though they had fallen a thousand years ago, even though their bloodline talent had been completely lost, the glory of the Xiao Clan still lingered indelibly in the hearts of every faction.
Even the Ancient Clan's desire to establish itself as leader of the Eight Clans might have merely been an attempt to escape a shadow.
A shadow named the Xiao Clan, one that had stretched across a thousand years, one whose edge almost no one had dared to face.
At some point, Hun Yu had risen to his feet. Without a word, he withdrew from the Xiao Clan's seating area, ignored the Black Mist Army guards around him, and took a new seat in the second position of the Soul Clan's supreme seats.
Yet despite such brazen behavior, not a single Black Mist Army soldier dared move rashly. None even spoke to stop him.
Everyone's gaze was fixed upon Xiao Yan's position. Nothing else mattered anymore.
On the platform, Tong Xuan remained silent for several breaths before finally withdrawing his hand, which trembled faintly with rage. After a long while, he said coldly, "Hmph. What an impressive Young Clan Leader of the Xiao Clan!"
"If this were the Xiao Clan at the height of its former glory, with your arrogant temperament, who knew