Exchange
Quite a few people in the audience rubbed their eyes.
They had thought Master Yan Longzhen would fly into a rage and take Li Bai on, but they hadn't even seen a drop of rain, let alone heard thunder. The old man had calmly said, "I'm impressed," then strolled offstage, as if the person who'd just been beaten hadn't been his own disciple.
Seeing his master come down from the stage, Qi Zheng said nervously, "Master!"
His hair and Western-style magic robe were still giving off wisps of smoke. Fire Phoenix's flames had been real, not an illusion; their burning had simply been controlled with extraordinary precision.
"Shut up! Sit down!"
Smack! Yan Longzhen slapped his disciple on the head. The force was as strong as ever, and the sensation was just as familiar.
The old man's explosive temper hadn't disappeared just because he'd backed down for a moment. Instead, he took it out on his own disciple.
A disciple, after all, was sometimes just another word for a punching bag.
And this eldest disciple really did deserve a beating!
The people nearby sat back down, as if nothing had happened.
Since Fire Phoenix hadn't hurt Qi Zheng, the tables, chairs, paper, and pens were all still in good shape, except for the draft sheet that had been reduced to ash by the flames.
If anything had been damaged, it was probably a few mites on the tablecloth, roasted by the residual heat from Fire Phoenix and leaving the faint scent of sunlight in the air.
Whether the flames had been real or fake, only those directly involved could say for sure.
The masters seemed to regard such things as commonplace. At their level, even a few casual gestures were enough to leave ordinary people dumbstruck.
In the eyes