Compared to before, Wang Yuan now looked at Wang Chen with a newfound respect.
The talent and power Wang Chen had revealed completely subdued him. He was willing to serve him as Clan Leader.
Wang Yuan explained,
"The Grand Elder has long been dissatisfied with the current Clan Leader. Chen'er, with your strength and talent, the Grand Elder will definitely throw his full support behind you.
As long as the Grand Elder supports you, then the Third Elder, the Seventh Elder, and the Eleventh Elder will surely follow as well.
Together with me, that makes five elders supporting you. All you need is to win over one more, and at the clan meeting, we can put forth your nomination for Clan Leader."
Wang Chen's eyes lit up. As one of the younger generation, he truly hadn't known much about the intricacies of the clan's upper ranks.
He hadn't expected the Grand Elder's influence to be so great—that a single voice could sway three other elders.
If the Grand Elder supported him, then five of the twelve elders would already be on his side.
"Grand Elder has that much influence?" Wang Chen asked in slight surprise.
Wang Yuan sighed.
"It's not that the Grand Elder himself is so powerful—it's that the Clan Leader's actions over the years have truly lost people's hearts.
Many elders grumble against him, and a few are extremely dissatisfied. The Grand Elder is their natural representative."
Wang Chen nodded. He knew most in the clan would rather not get dragged into the perilous battle for the throne.
After all, imperial succession was no child's play. Its danger was rated five stars at the very least—more treacherous even than the battlefield.
With that, Wang Yuan took Wang Chen by the arm and led him toward the Grand Elder's residence.
It was a bright and sunny noon.
The Grand Elder lay back on a lounge chair in his courtyard, basking in the sun. Yet despite the warmth, his face carried a trace of sorrow.
He had thought that once he broke through to Contra, he could stand as an equal to Wang Yan. But at the last clan meeting, Wang Yan had beaten him down with just three punches.
A truly tragic tale…
The Grand Elder gazed at the azure sky, mind adrift.
These days, the imperial succession had been turbulent, leaving this old man anxious and restless.
First, Xu Tiannan had defeated the Second and Third Princes to become Crown Prince. Then, scarcely half a month later, he was ambushed, crippled in the legs, and his position instantly destabilized.
Soon after, rumors spread that Xu Tiannan was impotent, and now, he had been formally deposed.
As the Wang Clan backed the Second Prince, their own fate had risen and fallen along with his.
The Grand Elder rubbed his increasingly thinning hair and let out a long sigh.
When would these days of constant dread ever end?
Now that Xu Tiannan had fallen, the Second Prince Xu Tianyu had risen again, with more than a fifty percent chance of becoming the new emperor of the Sun-Moon Empire.
But if, one day, Xu Tianyu failed to claim the throne, the Wang Clan would surely be implicated—and purged by the new ruler.
The Grand Elder hated this feeling of helplessness, as though the clan stood on the edge of a cliff, one misstep away from plunging into an abyss.
He hated himself for not being strong enough. If only he had the power to seize leadership from Wang Yan, then he could guide the clan differently.
If he were Clan Leader, he would never drag the Wang Clan into the imperial struggle.
The family had flourished in recent years—its population had swelled, and with numbers came talent. This generation had produced over a hundred promising youths, including three born with innate ninth-level soul power.
In past generations, when numbers were few, the clan might see only one such genius per generation.
If these youths were allowed to mature, how mighty would the clan become? They might even produce a Titled Douluo.
But Wang Yan, selfish and cold, ignored the greater good. For his own ambitions, he pulled the clan into a perilous path of imperial politics.
The Grand Elder's eyes burned with hatred for Wang Yan and worry for the Wang Clan's future.
After a long while, he sighed helplessly.
If things could not be changed, then he had to prepare for the worst.
Should the Second Prince one day fail, he would evacuate part of the clan.
For the past two years, he had secretly arranged safe havens in remote towns far from Mingdu—new identities, homes, gold soul coins, rare metals, resources…
If the worst came, the younger generation could vanish into obscurity, hidden in villages. Ten or twenty years later, after the new emperor passed, they could rise again.
As for himself, the other elders, and the ordinary clansmen, they would remain in Mingdu as decoys, to draw the storm.
Thinking of these preparations soothed his heart. Even if the worst happened, the clan's bloodline would endure.
Just then, a crisp and tender voice rang out.
"Grandpa, Elder Wang Yuan is here. He's waiting in the hall to see you. Oh, and Grandpa, Elder Wang Yuan brought Brother Wang Chen with him too!"
The Grand Elder rose slowly from his chair, stretching and loosening his joints.
He thought to himself,
"Wang Yuan is not one to come calling without purpose. If he's here, he must want something from me. And nine times out of ten, it's about that boy Wang Chen."
Though not as strong as Wang Yan, the Grand Elder had a sharp mind. It took no effort to guess Wang Yuan's intent.
He thought of Wang Chen. They had only met a few times, and all he knew was that the boy was the most outstanding of the younger generation. Beyond that, little.
"Very well," the Grand Elder mused. "Today I'll see for myself what sort of youth Wang Chen really is.
If the Second Prince fails, then the Wang Clan's revival will hinge on his abilities."
With that thought, he strode toward the hall.
Moments later, in the hall—
Wang Yuan spoke at length, laying out his case.
The Grand Elder, seated on a sofa, listened patiently. When Wang Yuan finished, he looked at him as if at a fool.
You want me, at the next clan meeting, to nominate Wang Chen as Clan Leader?
Wang Yuan, did you come all this way just to make sport of me?
Do you even hear yourself?
Not yet fifteen years old, a mere Soul Emperor—and you claim he could defeat that old monster Wang Yan? Have you lost your wits, or just woken from a dream?