"Gulp."
Fatty Wang swallowed with difficulty, then stiffly turned his neck to look at Chen Lin beside him.
The young man still stood with his hands clasped behind his back. There was no wild joy, no pride. His black robes snapped in the wind.
He gazed at the Divine Weapon Stele, which blazed with golden light, as calmly as if he were looking at a boundary marker at a village entrance.
Unfathomable.
Absolutely unfathomable!
Fatty Wang felt his legs go weak. His earlier guess had been utterly wrong. This was no bastard son of some Dao Ancestor of Artifact Refining.
This was a fucking True Dragon cultivating all over again!
And he had actually thought he could win him over with a lousy jar of eight-thousand-year-old wine? What an absolute joke!
"Chen... Ancestor Chen." Fatty Wang's voice shook uncontrollably, and even his form of address had changed. The flattery on his plump face had seeped into his very bones. "Y-your sword..."
"It's a decent sword," Chen Lin interrupted, his tone as unruffled as ever.
Top three?
He sneered inwardly. If Blue Star's laws had not been incomplete, and if he had not deliberately suppressed the qi and blood feedback from his Mahayana True Dragon physical body, that single drop of dragon blood at the peak of the great golden immortal realm would have been enough to send this sword straight to first place.
Still, third was just right. Neither too high nor too low, and it saved him plenty of trouble.
"Humm!"
Just then, the Divine Weapon Stele erupted with another rumble that shook the heavens.
Amid the purple-gold radiance at the top of the stele, a palm-sized, dark-gold token engraved with the words "Divine Weapon" shot out, becoming a streak of light that flew straight toward Chen Lin.
This