"In front of my father," Bian Jixiong had no need to put on airs, he helplessly shook his head and said, "Father, it's not a matter of how one says it. It's an issue of the gathering and dispersing of people's hearts, the purpose of the sect's existence. Our sect's disciples were killed, yet the murderer is treated as a guest. No matter how you sugarcoat it, it's useless."
The figure in the white robe paced back and forth without stopping, the elderly voice calm and ripple-less, "Right or wrong, they still need to acknowledge it."
"What do you mean, father?" Bian Jixiong was puzzled.
