The jab hits hard, and leaves a sour taste in Jin Zixuan's mouth. Or, no, wait. That might just be there anyway, after all the liquor he had drunk.

Either way, he waves a clawed hand in a dismissive motion, talking over the tail end of Jin Guangyao's words. "Yes, yes, fine, perfect, but we both know father would have held onto his position as long as he possibly could have. No matter how perfect an heir he might have had, he would have dug his greedy claws in and held onto the sect with his every last breath."

He pauses, glassy eyes, looking down at his hand now, still absently waving.

"Heh... Who's got claws now?"