Beneath those wispy strands of white smoke, Leon Lin's grotesquely twisted arm was rapidly returning to normal right before everyone's eyes.
Leon Lin, whose face had been contorted with pain, now looked genuinely surprised.
After a short while, Evan Lin removed the thin shard. Leon Lin cautiously flexed his wrist, his face lighting up with joy. "It's healed! It doesn't hurt at all!"
"A magic artifact! It's really a magic artifact!"
"So that's what a magic artifact actually looks like?"
"Extends life, improves blood circulation! With this magic artifact, I could live forever?"
The onlookers were all stunned by what they saw.
Several boss-like figures hurried forward, gazing at Evan Lin with pleading faces. "Young man, is that magic artifact for sale? I'll pay six million for it!"
"I'll offer seven million!"
"Eight million! Stop arguing—I'm buying it!"
In an instant, a crowd surged forward, all staring eagerly at the thin shard in Evan Lin’s hand, hoping to get a piece of the action.
Hearing the offers around him, Sam Su immediately panicked and rushed over, pleading to Evan Lin, "Master, Master, sell me that magic artifact! I'll pay ten million—ten million!"
Just moments ago, Evan Lin spent five million to win the Zisha teapot. Now, with a single flip, it had doubled in value—he hadn’t even spent a cent out of pocket.
Melissa Mu watched in full admiration, while the Daoist looked on resentfully, clearly annoyed.
Martin Mu frowned, obviously displeased by Evan Lin’s show-off style, while Henry Lin’s face had already turned an ugly shade of iron-gray.
Victor Moore gritted his teeth, still bitter about being stomped by Evan Lin earlier.
Leon Lin was still silently celebrating his recovered wrist, when Evan Lin’s voice suddenly rang out: "Did you forget something?"
"What?" Leon Lin was stunned, turning to look at Evan Lin.
"This is a magic artifact. So you need to eat the Zisha teapot shards on the floor. Miss even one piece, and it’s on you." Evan Lin said calmly, his gaze playful. "Are you eating them yourself, or do you need me to feed you?"
"Don’t go too far!" Leon Lin’s face turned from green to purple, burning with indignation.
Henry Lin stepped forward, blocking Evan Lin’s path. "My friend, what Leon Lin said just now was just a moment’s impulse. Please, give me some face and let this go—how about it?"
"Who do you think you are, to ask me for 'face'?" Evan Lin glanced at him coldly, snorting.
The crowd was stunned by his words, while Henry Lin’s face darkened.
Sword Master Eric Cui stepped forward, his voice steady. "Young man, what Leon Lin said was wrong, but you’re going too far."
"I didn’t cripple him outright—that’s already me holding back. Are you trying to stand up for him?" Evan Lin shot Eric Cui a look, sizing him up. "Hmm, Vajra Realm? Fourth grade or fifth?"
"Holy crap!"
"Is this guy seriously daring to provoke a sword master from the Southriver Sword Sect?"
"He just took a palm from Sword Master Eric Cui—that was only because Eric Cui didn’t use full force. Does he really think he can go head-to-head with a sword master?"
The crowd exploded at those words. Some looked at Evan Lin with confusion, others with pity, and still more shook their heads and sighed.
Sensing trouble, Sam Su hurried over, smiling apologetically at Evan Lin. "Master, Master, let’s discuss this later, okay? We’re all here for the magic artifact, aren’t we?"
"Uh... ten million—just sell me the magic artifact, okay?"
Sam Su stared at Evan Lin, wringing his hands anxiously.
He was really trying to give Evan Lin a way out. After all, Eric Cui was a sword master from the Southriver Sword Sect—if a real fight broke out, Sam Su worried Evan Lin would get hurt, and he’d be dragged down with him.
Evan Lin casually tossed the thin shard to Sam Su. To Evan, this thing was basically worthless—especially since he’d just triggered the artifact’s internal formation, which was why Leon Lin’s arm healed so fast. The whole magic artifact was basically on the verge of collapse.
Sam Su fumbled to catch it, his face lit up with joy.
On the other side, Sword Master Eric Cui snorted coldly and started to leave with Henry Lin and the others.
Leon Lin was about to slip away too, but before he could turn around, Evan Lin stomped his foot on the ground.
With that stomp, all the Zisha teapot shards on the ground shot up into the air. Evan Lin flicked his hand, and the shards whizzed straight toward Leon Lin.
"Holy crap!"
Leon Lin panicked, turning to run.
The shards seemed to have minds of their own, raining down and shooting straight toward Leon Lin’s mouth.
Thud, thud, thud.
A barrage of shards forced their way into Leon Lin’s mouth, leaving him spitting blood.
"Courting death!"
Sword Master Eric Cui snapped to attention, shouting angrily. He strode forward, lifted Leon Lin from the ground, and slapped the back of his neck, forcing the shards out of his mouth.
Leon Lin’s face went pale with pain. The crowd was horrified—no one had expected such a bloody scene.
Martin Mu quietly retreated a few steps, pulling Victor Moore along and giving him a slight shake of the head, clearly planning to watch the drama from a safe distance.
Melissa Mu bit her lip and kept silent, her gaze fixed on the teenager standing face-to-face with Sword Master Eric Cui, eyes full of complicated emotions.
"If I tell him to eat it, he eats it. Or do you want to try a taste yourself?"
Evan Lin’s gaze was icy as he stared at Sword Master Eric Cui.
Henry Lin held Leon Lin in his arms, his face shifting rapidly. Sam Su and the Daoist, seeing the tense standoff, didn’t dare step forward.
"So if you tell him to eat, he eats! It seems I, Eric Cui of the Southriver Sword Sect, have been away from the world too long. Is it that I’m not strong enough, or are the young people these days just too arrogant? Today, I’ll have to teach you a lesson!"
Sword Master Eric Cui’s fury erupted, his voice brimming with rage. Killing intent surged from him, sending chills through the crowd.
"Sword, rise!"
With a shout, Sword Master Eric Cui gripped the air—and a long sword suddenly materialized in his hand.
He had condensed his qi into a sword!
Only a fourth-grade Vajra could do this!
The sword was about seven feet long.
Right now, Sword Master Eric Cui stood tall and imposing—just standing there, he radiated an unmatched sense of power.
The qi-forged sword in his hand gleamed with a razor-sharp edge.
The surging qi whipped Evan Lin’s clothes as he stood there, staring straight at the sword forming in Sword Master Eric Cui’s hand. He spoke calmly, "I’ll let you have three moves."
I’ll let you have three moves!
The crowd erupted at those words.
Sword Master Eric Cui was absolutely furious.
"Arrogance has its limits! Today, I’ll teach you some respect!"