The Yi Family Ancestral Temple's main gate had been desecrated twice within 24 hours.
By now, it leaned to one side, a complete mess.
Yi Weibing's shiny leather shoes clattered on the stone steps leading to the gate.
He also crushed the dim green moss that grew on the steps.
Bi Xiongchun stepped forward obsequiously and pushed open the askew gates.
Having seen the ferocious group accompanying Yi Weibing, he knew which side he should stand on.
Though Elder Yi, the Family Head, was indeed a respectable figure, he was now old.
How could a strong, aging lion prevent the birth of a young king?
Bi Xiongchun pushed the doors open.
Yi Weibing entered the Yi Family Ancestral Temple with the arrogance and composure of a victor.
Suddenly, his figure stiffened abruptly.
Yi Weibing's face, usually dignified and proud, was filled with disbelief, shock, and fear.
Bi Xiongchun, following behind Yi Weibing, distinctly felt the young king's shock and despair.