Beneath his black robes, Qin Yu’s voice was calm. “Things are as they should be. I have no objection.”

“Hahaha, Ji Yun, you should thank His Highness the Saint Son. If not for him, I fear that promoting you to the rank of Pope wouldn’t be so easy.”

Ji Xiangtian laughed out loud. He casually swept his eyes over Qin Yu, furrowing his eyebrows inwardly.

Could it be that he didn’t doubt the events of the last two days? Or did he really have no interest in authority over the Western Tomb?

“Thank you, Saint Son!” Ji Yun stood up and bowed. His face flushed red and he looked over at Zhou Li, pride and vigor in his eyes.

Although he had been regarded as the successor to the throne of the Western Tomb since long ago, every day where this position wasn’t solidified was an opening for a potential accident to occur.

It had to be known that his father had more than one son. It was just that he was the only one who had received his father’s approval.

But from this day forth,...