Another voice came.

Then, a group of people approached.

In its lead was a forty-year-old-looking man who weighed at least 300 pounds. His bushy eyebrows only accentuated his boorish and brutish appearance.

“Patriarch Sullivan…”

Flynn greeted him with a bright smile.

An elderly man was sitting on a rock at the foot of Mount Littleroot not too far away. He was wearing a green suit with slightly oversized buttons. It somehow looked a little out of proportion. His face was shriveled, and his hair was disheveled.

“I didn’t expect the Johnstons and Sullivans to come… I’m afraid all of the Ancient Four apart from the Cadens are here,” the elderly man murmured with a grim expression.

It was James.

After returning to Western Littleroot City, he went ahead and bought an old-fashioned suit. He also created a face mask and disguised himself as an old man.

“They all have invitation cards. It won’t be easy for someone like me to sneak into the mountains.”

James stroked his beard,