"You chose a piece of scrap metal, thinking you can compare it with the aristocratic states' sword of warring kings, are you insane?"
Zhao Jiaqi only felt the world spin before her eyes.
She hastily ran to Lin Fan.
Looking at the long sword in his hand speckled with rust.
She felt that it might break with just a bit of force.
How could it possibly compare in value to the immortal sword of the warring states' kings?
"Sometimes, what you see may not be the truth, otherwise there would be no place for the antique business."
Lin Fan stretched out a finger and flicked the sword's body.
A dull sound of the sword's chant echoed throughout the spacious hall.
"Kid, do you think we're all here for nothing? With that piece of junk of yours, even if it's ancient, it couldn't possibly be of any value. This is a matter of quality, I think you're just blatantly messing around."
