In the Situ Clan's main hall, Mo Hua sat in the seat of honor like some tyrant.
His junior martial brother, Situ Jian, sat to his left, while grand elder Situ Wei sat to his right.
The hall below was packed with disciples, all brilliant talents from the Four Sects and Eight Gates of Ganxue Prefecture. Their sharp aura as prodigies gathered together and crashed forward like ten thousand swords firing at once, their edge piercing and oppressive.
Situ Wei's scalp went numb as he sat on pins and needles.
This was the Situ Clan. He was the Situ Clan's grand elder. Though only temporary, he still stood above tens of thousands, with an exalted status.
In nearly any setting, any gathering, he was one of the highest-ranking people present—often with almost no equal.
He had always been calm and composed, with a powerful presence.
Yet today, for the first time, this gathering made him feel something like "inferiority," "timidity," and "self-doubt."
It was not because the people present had particularly high cultivation.
After all, they were merely disciples of great clans, all only at the Foundation Establishment Peak Stage.
But the bearing, Spirit Roots, Dao Foundations, clans, sects, and reputations of these disciples... every last one of them was terrifying.
Looking around, every one was as rare as phoenix feathers and qilin horns.
If there had only been one or two such rare prodigies, that would have been one thing. But this room was packed full of them.
What kind of grand scene was this?
Even back in Ganxue Prefecture, that sacred cultivation land where sects stood in forests and prodigies gathered like clouds, assembling the foremost figures of the Four Sects and Eight Gates would have been almost as difficult as ascending to heaven.
Not to mention doing