Isabella Turner’s face looked pale.
If Avril were here, she might have been able to use her influence to cover this up, but Avril had already run off, leaving Isabella with no options.
Watching this scene unfold, she felt overwhelmed.
She wanted to suppress it.
But she couldn’t.
These people had all been paid off, so how could they be suppressed?
Even one woman with acne-ridden face rushed out, wanting to confront Isabella, and in that moment, emotions spiraled out of control, with many girls and reporters wanting to barge in.
But then, someone next to them acted.
“Stop.”
A gentle voice.
The girl with acne in the front had reached out to grab Isabella’s clothes, but stopped abruptly, and everyone else followed suit.
They didn’t know why they stopped.
But they did.
In the end, all eyes turned to the man standing in front of Isabella.
“Boss.”
Isabella looked at the broad back in front of her and felt like crying.
It was the first time someone protected her.
This kind of security, she had never experienced before.
The boss was the best.
“What do you want?”
Everyone looked at Robin Bailey, with the girl in front asking him, “Can you heal our faces?”
“Yes… yes.”
Someone hesitated and nodded.
They nodded because the acne and scars on their faces couldn’t be healed, no one could help them before, and they were feeling hopeless.
This time, they were paid to ruin Isabella’s cosmetics company and reputation, but if it could be healed, they were excited.
As long as it could be healed, anything was fine.
They didn’t care about the money anymore.
Whether they were paid or not.
As long as it could be healed, it was okay.
After all, for a girl, a face was very important.
Their faces made them want to cry just by looking at them.
“Boss, can you heal us?”
Isabella peeked timidly from behind Robin Bailey, her watery eyes curious.
“No.”
Robin Bailey said those two words.
Suddenly, anger flickered in the girls’ eyes, thinking that he could heal them easily, but he said he couldn’t.
Even Isabella felt like collapsing to the ground.
If he couldn’t, why did he step forward?
However, Robin Bailey continued, “Although I can’t, it doesn’t mean the people I know can’t heal you.”
Qi couldn’t do everything.
It could be used in treating internal injuries caused by martial artists or in life-threatening situations, but for acne and scars, it was not only useless but also incurable.
But just because he couldn’t heal them didn’t mean someone else couldn’t.
“Let me make a call.”
Robin Bailey took out his phone and made a call.
Soon, at Eleanor Manor in Stillwater, where Robin Bailey now lived, a girl’s phone rang, Coco Langstaff’s phone, she answered it, puzzled, “Robin, what’s up?”
Normally, Robin Bailey wouldn’t call them because they rarely could help him.
But now they could.
“Give your phone to your grandfather.”
“Oh, okay.”
Coco Langstaff walked out, and at that moment, standing on a scorched rock in front of the beach not far from the villa, was an old man in Taoist robes, his eyes closed, immersed in something.
He had an air of elegance and immortality.
He attracted many onlookers, as Erasmus Langstaff came there every day, sometimes staying for a day and a night, as Coco Langstaff lived with Elise Houry.
He wasn’t worried at all.
He was a patriarch of Kunlun Mountain, not the most powerful, but the highest in terms of seniority, so he looked like a wise man, attracting a lot of attention during this time.
Like now.
On a nearby rock, a man knelt, saying, “Please, Master, accept me as your disciple.”
He was the eighth one in this time.
Many had come.
But none had stayed long.
Only this one had stayed for almost ten days, kneeling there every day, wanting to be Erasmus Langstaff’s disciple, as Erasmus Langstaff clearly seemed to be a master, if not comparable to Robin Bailey.
And not just any master.
At that moment, Erasmus Langstaff slowly opened his eyes, gave a glance, and sighed, “Why bother, I’ve said it before, I’ve just taken a master myself and don’t have the qualifications to take on disciples.”
That’s right.
He had to follow the rules of the martial world.
Those who just took a master didn’t have the qualifications to take on disciples.
It was easy to mislead them.
“Master, don’t trick me. You’re so amazing, who’s qualified to be your teacher?”
The man smiled.
However, a little girl came hopping over, holding a phone, “Grandpa, it’s Robin calling for you.”
“See, it’s my master’s call.”
Erasmus Langstaff said.
But this failed to convince the man, until Erasmus Langstaff took the call, and he immediately praised, “Master, Master, your disciple is here, if you need anything, your disciple is willing to share everything, to speak the truth, never hide it, willing to say everything.”
The man was dumbfounded.
This, the immortal Taoist?
Was he a bootlicker?
The man was in disbelief, and as he left, he said, “I knelt before a swindler, really unlucky.”
He left.
It had been an unlucky time, kneeling before just one swindler.
He knelt for so long.
However, he didn’t know that if he knelt a little longer, Erasmus Langstaff might consider taking him in, given his good roots.
Unfortunately, he gave up halfway.
Erasmus Langstaff usually had an air of elegance and immortality, but he was different with Robin Bailey, for whom he had extra consideration. Kunlun Mountain highly valued etiquette, especially the etiquette between master and disciple.
Those who disrespected their masters suffered greatly at the foot of Kunlun Mountain.
Moreover, Robin Bailey understood the ‘Way’.
Erasmus Langstaff had spent his whole life pondering the Way, never quite grasping it, so he had an intense dedication to it, and because Robin Bailey had taught him, he held enough respect for Robin Bailey.
Of course, there was another crucial factor: his personal shamelessness.