"You and your disciple are really cut from the same cloth, flipping the table at the slightest disagreement. And here I thought Little He could be a bit more rational,"
True Master Feiyu glanced again at Song He, who was shaking the gourd.
But all that could be heard was Xingke's laughter—he didn't seem to think that flipping tables was a big deal at all. As they say, he was one who never let go when he had the upper hand.
Not only was he unfazed, but he was also quite delighted.
"You, you haven't corrupted your disciple, and that's all thanks to Xingheng's doing."
The true master shook his head helplessly, realizing that all the cultivators who had followed the unknown Nascent Soul disciple had already been sucked into the gourd.
It seemed that from the man's appearance to entering the gourd, Song He's sarcastic demeanor had been constant, and he had never asked for the former's name, which led to True Master Feiyu not knowing the guy's name either.
