Auren Galewright's hands, hidden inside his wide sleeves, trembled uncontrollably.
"You... you... you're Saint-rank?"
He tried to keep his composure, but his face betrayed everything—fear, disbelief, panic. Everyone watching could see it clear as day.
"Saint-rank? Not quite yet," Uncle Jed replied casually. "Still have to face the Heavenly Tribulation. Speaking of which... how was the show just now? Pretty intense, huh? Tell me, what do you think would happen if I chose to face my tribulation here, right on the peak of your Windspirit Faction?"
Auren's body flinched at the very mention of it, cold sweat forming at his temples. He didn't even answer.
"Young friend Jed, truly the most gifted prodigy in ten thousand years. If memory serves, you're not even fifty yet, are you? To reach such a realm before half a century… Makes an old man like me feel rather useless."
A sudden voice echoed from the mountain path winding up toward the platform, aged and heavy with authority.
