"Being prepared means no worries," Yan Moshan said with a pained expression. He knew that he couldn't refuse this matter no matter what.
The higher-ups of the Yanhuang Sect had clearly made their decision, so it wasn't something a small fry like him, akin to an ant, could change. At this moment, Yan Moshan felt a trace of anger and bitterness... but most of all, helplessness.
In the face of absolute power, in front of those who held his life in their hands, all resistance seemed so pale and powerless. Unconsciously, Yan Moshan's desire for strength grew even stronger, not because of Yang Ye, not because of Wei Lao's death, but for himself.
People always live for themselves after all. If Yan Moshan wanted to rid himself of a fate controlled by others, he had to possess sufficient power; otherwise, it was all in vain. Therefore, his craving for power grew even more intense.