A conflict was resolved. Without a clear outline of the mission, song qingxiao was not willing to make a move unless it was necessary, and the other trial-takers would find an opportunity.
When the others heard black robe's words, they all fell silent, their faces revealing a helpless expression.
Song qingxiao's gaze fell on the old man with white hair and a white beard. One of his hands was still pressed against his chest. Under the loose cloak, there seemed to be a rectangular bulge, which made a clear mark on the material of his clothes.
From the protruding outline, it looked like a thick book. What black robe was afraid of was probably what was in the book.
At the same time, she also noticed that other than her and black robe peeking at the book in the old man's hand, the other people around the table seemed to be peeking at them.
