Chapter 1851

The gray-haired old man could only gaze at Severin in shock from several dozen feet away. His body was trembling, and his cheeks had swollen as blood flowed out from the corners of his mouth. He wiped away the blood and shot Severin an ugly expression, for the latter's refusal had ignited a burning anger within him.

Despite his rage, he could not ignore the reality that he was unable to withstand even a single blow from Severin, despite both of them being level nine royal saints. The overwhelming aura that Severin exuded was like a mountain that left him suffocated.

As the Gahrrs' great elder, he had followed Thorold to the Deifirm Sect and thus possessed a broader perspective on the world. He acknowledged the abundant existence of prodigies and thus had no lofty dreams in pursuit of such excellence. The brief exchange had given him a taste of Severin's strength—it had likely surpassed many ordinary royal saints, and might even be capable of holding his own against several supreme sa