Mo Qingkuang said nothing, but upon closer inspection, his hands were trembling slightly.
Having lived for hundreds of years, his self-restraint was naturally excellent. But no matter how poised he was, being called brain-dead by a great-great-grandson to his face was something he couldn't possibly ignore.
Hundreds of years, hundreds of years, he really hadn't been this furious before.
He's angry, the ancestor is angry! Mo Gaoyi noticed Mo Qingkuang's trembling hands, and his heart almost jumped out of his chest, fearing that the old ancestor would, in anger, slap his treasured son to death.
He wanted to say something, but seeing the way the old ancestor's eyebrows twitched, he found himself speechless.
"This son of yours is well-taught." It took Mo Qingkuang a lot to resist the urge to slap Mo Yanhong to death, suppressing his anger, he coldly said to Mo Gaoyi, stood up, and left.
