The Ancestral Hall of the Leopard Sect had not seen such tension in over three thousand years.
Wang sat calmly upon the high throne, his broad shoulders framed by the massive, carved stone leopards that guarded the seat of power. He wore nothing but a simple, loose black robe provided by the attendants, yet the raw majesty radiating from his posture made the golden hall feel incredibly small.
Below the throne steps, the power dynamic of the entire sect had shifted completely within an hour.
Bai Feng, the supreme Clan Leader who had ruled the tribe with an iron fist, had willingly stepped down to the right-hand position at the base of the dais.
He stood straight, his hands tucked into his golden sleeves, completely accepting his new role as his son's prime minister and enforcer.
To Bai Feng, the revival of the first Patriarch was the greatest honor his lineage could achieve; he had no desire to contest the throne against his own flesh and blood.
