"Bastard, you are speaking absolute nonsense!" Sylra was so angry his eyes widened, furious beyond control.
Seeing the atmosphere between the two at daggers drawn, on the verge of coming to blows over a single disagreement... a burst of hearty, free, and easy laughter came from mid-air.
"Hahahaha, what has happened to the two elders?"
Hearing this highly magnetic and extremely penetrating voice, the disciples unanimously raised their heads.
A middle-aged man dressed in a white robe, looking elegant and unrestrained, descended from the sky riding a flying sword.
He placed his hands on the shoulders of Torin and Sylra respectively, laughing cheerfully.
"Do not quarrel, do not quarrel. Amicability is most precious!"
After this man appeared, the major elders instantly stood in profound respect.
"Greetings, Sect Master!"
Torin and Sylra, who had refused to listen to any advice just a moment ago, now gave a cold snort and stopped arguing.
