Xuan Long sat on the grand throne with the same white robe flowing over his body.
If one looked closely, golden patterns could be seen embroidered on it. These patterns were the symbol and status of the Clan Master of the Teng Clan, representing the highest authority.
Only the Clan Master was allowed to wear this robe with these colors and symbols.
As he sat there, all the elders and disciples saluted him at once.
Yet Xuan Long only gave them a nonchalant glance, not bothering to respond even with a single word.
The elders, who were much older than him, felt their faces stiffen with discomfort. They had wanted someone truly powerful to lead their clan, but they did not want a member of the younger generation trampling on their pride.
Still, what could they do? He had been born into this position, and his power far surpassed theirs. They could do nothing but tolerate his presence in silence.
