Leon Lin’s face twisted—first pale, then purple—as Evan Lin stared him down. The moment Evan spoke, every eye in the room snapped to them. Leon clenched his jaw and finally couldn’t hold it in anymore, barking out, “You say it’s a magic artifact, so it’s a magic artifact? Prove it!”
Henry Lin’s face darkened. “What, you think we’ll just take your word for it? Who do you think you are?!”
Martin Mu exploded, voice booming, “Outrageous! You think you can just say it’s true and we’ll believe you?”
Leon’s shout echoed through the hall, sharp and full of frustration. Even the Daoist and Sam Su flinched. Victor Moore, standing closest, saw Leon’s wrist twisted at a sickening angle and turned pale.
Henry Lin took a deep breath, nodding. “Exactly. Even if Sword Master Eric Cui said it might be a magic artifact, a real one should do something miraculous, right?”
“You claimed this thing could prolong life and help with blood flow, but that’s way too vague.”
Henry Lin absolutely did not want Leon to actually eat the shattered Zisha teapot in front of everyone—that’d be a total Lin-family faceplant.
The Daoist next to Sam Su just shrugged, totally unfazed. “Sure, it smells nice, but maybe it’s just some kind of medicinal herb.”
Victor Moore kept silent, Martin Mu frowned, and Melissa Mu’s face went pale. “Watch out!” she cried.
Melissa Mu bit her lip, stepped forward, and said quietly, “I believe him.” Instantly, everyone near Sword Master Eric Cui—Henry Lin, Martin Mu, and Sam Su—edged back, afraid of getting caught in the blast. Sam Su’s eyes went wide at Eric Cui’s power.