'To think that guy could befriend someone like him,' the old man thought before sighing, a warm smile appearing on his face, 'I am glad he made a friend. Maybe this is what he needs to get over her death.'
Looks were nothing for cultivators, as they advanced to higher stages cultivators shed their mortal shell and forge new bodies and all of those cultivators rarely stay ugly.
He turned to look back and saw a white-haired man holding his torn arm in his hands while looking back at them with a slight smirk on his face. Seeing his arm in the hands of the mysterious man, his brain finally registered the pain he was going through.