"No, no, it's not like that, we were speaking the truth."
The disciples of Vermilion Bird Academy hurriedly explained.
"Enough!"
Miranda Murray waved her hand, then fixed her eyes on Terrence York, speaking word by word: "Now, let me clearly tell you, I don't care who Marshall Morgan hit or whose house he demolished, none of that matters to me. If I say Marshall Morgan is not guilty, then he's not guilty."
If I say he's not guilty, he's not guilty!
How assertive, how domineering, this is Miranda Murray—when she's assertive, she pays no heed to reason.
"You..."
Suddenly, Terrence York's face turned crimson, almost suffering an internal injury from frustration.
Miranda was completely playing by her own rules, and somehow, he just couldn't do anything about it.
"Elder Murray, even though you are an elder of Vermilion Bird Academy and the granddaughter of Dean Fawkes, you can't abuse your power, right? There are so many disciples watching here."
