Elder Wan Hun, who had been acting covertly all along, was now somewhat beside himself with rage.
His gaunt fingers clenched abruptly, his knuckles cracking.
A faint bloody hue actually began to creep into Wan Hun's white hair;
an eerie bloody glow also spread across his otherwise unremarkable, thirty-year-old face, as though an evil spirit had possessed him.
Grand Elder Wan Hun had intended to overpower Qing Chen through sheer strength and bully him with his divine sense, even resorting to vicious tricks;
he had thought he could easily bring Qing Chen to heel, then let him off with a couple of barbs.
Yet now, before so many Golden Core Elders, he had ended up in such a sorry state. He had thoroughly lost face;
all his efforts had merely sewn a wedding gown for Qing Chen, turning him into a stepping stone for yet another rise in Qing Chen's prestige.
His eyes bulged, as though about to spit fire;
he no longer cared about dignity or Sect Rules.
Wan Hun reflected that the Sect Master's earlier words to him had also hinted at an intention to suppress Qing Chen;
as long as the Sect Master did not punish him severely, he could sooner or later recover his lost face, authority, and those vast profits in spirit stones.
With Qing Chen suppressed and the Sect Master cultivating in seclusion, wouldn't the Sect still have to rely on him?
He, Elder Wan Hun, had painstakingly built his influence within the Sect for years, finally establishing his authority.
If he acted today and could not even subdue this young man who was not yet a hundred years old;
then most of the authority he had worked so hard to establish would vanish in an instant;
how would he control the Sect to