Yang Chen's burst of anger truly frightened the boy out of his wits, cold sweat streaming down his face.
"Please calm your anger, Fellow Daoist, please calm your anger. This servant boy under my command is ignorant and ill-mannered; I hope you will be magnanimous and grant this old man a little face. Once we return, I will certainly punish the brat." At that moment, a white-bearded old man with the bearing of an immortal stepped out from the house. His movement technique was like a breeze brushing willow branches, his posture graceful and unrestrained.
Yang Chen did not truly care, but to keep up appearances, upon seeing the master emerge, he still said heavily, "Hmph. Under normal circumstances, I would have slapped this brat to death long ago. But today, for Fellow Daoist's sake, I'll spare his life."
Though the white-bearded old man wore a breezy smile, inwardly, he was filled with disdain.
He was merely at the Nirvana Stage with two thousand Dao Intent Inscriptions, yet he really thought himself someone important?
In his heart, the old man had already lowered his estimation of Yang Chen considerably and no longer took him seriously.
Still, he said with a genial smile, "This brat does not know better. Little Han, have you learned your lesson now? Keep your eyes open wider in the future. Do not fail to recognize Mount Tai when it stands before you!"
He was secretly angry as well. How many times had he told the boy not to judge people by their appearances?
The young man before them looked young, but it was entirely possible that he had lived for who knew how many years. How could one judge a person by appearance?
The boy shuddered in fright and immediately began to wail, "Master, I know