The way the Guardian descended was unremarkable; he was an elderly man in a white robe, looking about seventy years old, with a full head of white hair and beard, giving off an ethereal, sage-like aura. He stood on the ground as if he were a slow-moving white cloud.
"Guys, time to watch the show!"
At Zhang Menglong's command, he and ten others leapt to the tallest nearby building, where each took out a chair and sat down.
"Anyone got milk tea?"
"I brought sunflower seeds."
"Give me a pack, and I'll share my spicy strips with you!"
The ten of them took on a ready-for-entertainment posture, which even made the Guardian's eye twitch slightly upon seeing them.
"Don't look at us; we haven't done anything!" Zhang Menglong faced the Guardian's gaze with calm composure. "Although we did just engage, he acted first; I was merely defending myself. Everyone here can testify to that, right?"
