My honored teacher, the aftermath of a magical duel?
My honored teacher?
Lin Feng froze. "My teacher? Since when did I have a teacher? If I had a teacher that powerful, would I have gotten beaten so badly? Where was my teacher then?"
The Daoist looked even more uncomfortable and waved a hand. "Ah, you can't put it that way. It's not that your teacher doesn't love or cherish you. Perhaps he has something to attend to.
"You learned his tradition, so naturally you're his student.
"Heaven, earth, sovereign, parents, and teacher—this is a fundamental principle of the world.
"Even an emperor must abide by reason."
At that, Lin Feng was left speechless.
He couldn't argue. Mainly, he had never expected the [Shaman Priest's Art] to still belong to someone.
More importantly, the person who had created it wasn't dead yet.
Then there really was nothing he could do.
He couldn't rattle on at a man from the Ming Dynasty, saying that everything he was spouting was outdated, rotten feudal superstition, that although he had inherited the man's teachings, he hadn't done it on purpose, and that he wouldn't learn this rubbish even if someone offered to teach him.
That would just be shameless.
When in Rome, do as the Romans do. That was never bad advice.
If people said a teacher was like a father, then a teacher was like a father.
Somehow, without realizing it, he had acquired a teacher.
He was starting to feel like becoming Lü Bu.
Master, father—a teacher is like a father. Zhang Zhuoen hadn't been speaking idly.
Lin Feng sighed.
Even in modern society, some professions still passed down their skills through master-disciple relationships, or systems that amounted to the same thing under another name. They wouldn't take anyone they didn't know inside