The elder of the tribe focused deeply, connecting with the execution platform.
They gathered the divine skills of the entire tribe to shield the perception of the tiger bones. Had there indeed been a White Tiger on the altar—not to mention a living one, even a slightly intact bone claw containing a soul consciousness would not be something the mere Prison Clan could block.
But a mere inch-long toe bone, modestly called a toe bone, was not as big as a fingernail in life, and its power had long since waned in the passage of time, tending toward exhaustion. The last bit of it had been expended in the previous actions.
The elder was not trying to create something out of nothing to steal the mandate of heaven and earth. Not reaching the status of Immortal Sovereign, they could not bear such a mandate. Even within the Yuan Sovereign Clan, not all clansmen possessed it.