Chapter Ten: The Emergence of Kunwu

Zheng Wu was utterly disoriented by such an explosive reversal, completely unable to compose himself.

“Fanfan, take it off quickly, hurry!” he urged in a panic.

“What did you say? Zheng Wu, do you really want to break up with me? Let me tell you, if we break up this time, there will never be another chance for us!” Wang Fan bristled at the thought of actually taking it off.

“Wang Fan, this gentleman is Tang Kenian, a pillar of the Tang family, worth over a billion. If you don’t want your family to face total ruin, I advise you to listen and do as you’re told!” Zheng Wu, alarmed by Wang Fan’s recklessness, immediately took on a stern demeanor.

“Are you serious?” Wang Fan recoiled, not daring to resist further, and quickly removed the jade bracelet from her wrist.

“Thank you both for your cooperation. If you don’t make things difficult for me, I won’t trouble you further.” Tang Kenian’s eyes dimmed, but his tone was light.

He repackaged the jade bracelet and placed it before Lin Feng, also returning the Tang family’s jade disc with a bow. “Mr. Lin, everything has been handled as you wished. Would you like me to arrange a car for you?”

“No need, I’m used to travelling alone.” Lin Feng cast a cold glance at Wang Fan and Zheng Wu, brushed his sleeve, and strode out with effortless poise.

“Mr. Lin, thank you for your patronage. We look forward to your next visit!” Tang Kenian bowed deeply and respectfully called out to Lin Feng’s departing figure.

The events that had just unfolded left Zheng Wu’s mind buzzing as if in a dream. Wasn’t this man the notorious loser of Binhai City? When did he become the Tang family’s Supreme VIP, Mr. Lin?

If he had just offended him, wasn’t that the same as offending the entire Tang family?

At this realization, cold sweat beaded on Zheng Wu’s forehead, and a chill shot up from his tailbone straight to the back of his head.

“Mr. Zheng, Miss. In light of your recent offense toward the Tang family’s Supreme VIP guest, I must inform you both that you are now blacklisted from all Tang family properties. You will no longer be provided service by any Tang establishment. Please be mentally prepared for this.” Tang Kenian’s gaze was icy, his voice cold.

Zheng Wu and Wang Fan were stunned on the spot.

This meant they were now effectively banned from 80% of Binhai City’s high-end venues!

“Mr. Tang, please, let me explain—I truly meant no harm. Ignorance is not a crime. Please, give me another chance!” Zheng Wu pleaded.

“Mr. Zheng, there’s no need for further entreaties. This is already the lightest punishment. Security, please escort these guests out. They are never to be let in again!” Tang Kenian shook off Zheng Wu’s grasp and called for security in a commanding voice.

Within ten minutes, Wang Fan and Zheng Wu were thrown out of the Tang Commercial Center.

“How could this happen? Does this mean I can never shop at the Tang Commercial Center again? No, I don’t want that… I don’t want that…” Wang Fan sat collapsed on the pavement outside, sobbing bitterly.

Being barred from nearly every luxury venue in Binhai City was a fatal blow to someone like Wang Fan, who lived for shopping and consumption.

Zheng Wu shot a cold look at the one responsible for all of this—Wang Fan. In his heart, he resolved to stay as far away from this foolish woman as possible, never to have dealings with her again.

He then quietly called his father to report the incident, inquiring about the family’s situation. If the family were to be implicated because of this, he would be guilty beyond redemption.

…

Half an hour later, Lin Feng took Metro Line 3 to Binhai City’s largest antiques market—Phoenix Street.

In his previous life, after a failed suicide attempt, he had been casually rescued by his master, a traveler of the cosmos, and taken as a servant. Over the next three thousand years, Lin Feng proved himself through countless trials, finally being accepted as a disciple. Thirty thousand years later, when his cultivation surpassed that of his master, his master gifted him a treasured sword.

That sword became Lin Feng’s constant companion for more than seventy thousand years. Its name was Kunwu, found by his master on Earth at the very spot—Phoenix Street in Binhai City—where Lin Feng now stood.

As he entered Phoenix Street, the ancient wooden walls and dark tiles on either side imparted a sense of antiquity. Shops of all sizes lined the street, with many vendors peddling wares on the ground. The foot traffic, however, was sparse—tourist season had yet to arrive, and only a handful of antique enthusiasts frequented the place.

Phoenix Street was neither particularly large nor small. With his abilities yet to recover and his spiritual sense dormant, Lin Feng couldn’t pinpoint Kunwu’s location. He could only search aimlessly.

After wandering for over half an hour, Lin Feng suddenly sensed a subtle stirring in front of a shop called Half Moon Studio and slowed to a stop.

An elderly man in a tattered camouflage jacket stood at the counter, holding a long object wrapped in ragged cloth.

“Boss, do you buy antiques here?” he asked.

“Antiques? Of course. But let me warn you first—I can spot a fake or worthless item at a glance, so don’t try to fool me!” said the middle-aged man behind the counter, evidently the owner and appraiser of Half Moon Studio. He wore a plain black Tang jacket, with sharp, calculating eyes beneath slanted brows and a pair of thin mustaches perched on his lip, idly rolling two iron balls in his hand—the very picture of a shrewd merchant.

“How could it be a fake? This is a sword passed down in my family for generations,” the old man retorted, affronted at the suggestion that his heirloom was worthless.

“I don’t care how many generations it’s been in your family. Let’s see if it’s worth anything. With my discerning eyes, I’ll know its value at a glance!” the owner replied, uninterested in sentiment.

The old man carefully unwrapped the cloth, revealing a rust-covered long sword, three feet six inches long and three inches wide. Beneath the corrosion, faint, unusual patterns could be seen—clearly an ancient treasured blade.

The moment the sword was revealed, Lin Feng’s heart thudded. He instantly felt a surge of joy emanate from within the blade—a joy akin to the reunion of companions separated for seventy thousand years.

The owner, too, sensed something extraordinary about the sword—the marks of age seemed to span millennia, impossible to forge. Yet, true to his nature as a cunning merchant, he glanced at the old man and immediately launched into an act.

“Tsk tsk, this sword—neither bronze nor iron, and it doesn’t look like a Tang sword either. Is this some shoddy fake you’ve artificially aged? Trying to scam me for money?” he scoffed.

“How dare you! This is a treasure passed down in my family for generations! If you keep talking like this, I won’t sell it!” The old man’s face reddened with anger at the slander of his ancestors, and he turned to leave.

The owner, a seasoned operator, knew that anyone willing to part with an heirloom must be in desperate need of money. He propped his chin on his hand and said lazily, “How about a thousand? I guarantee that’s the highest offer you’ll get on all of Phoenix Street.”

“A thousand?” The old man hesitated—indeed, this was the best price he’d received after visiting every antiques shop along the way. After a moment’s indecision and thinking of his seriously ill son at home, he finally relented, his voice heavy with pain. “Fine! If my son weren’t in urgent need of money, I’d never part with it.”

The owner handed over a thousand yuan and dismissed the old man with brisk efficiency. “All right, the deal is done—no take-backs!”

Witnessing all this, Lin Feng approached Half Moon Studio, pretending to browse.

“Hey there, young man—good eye you’ve got. My Half Moon Studio is the fairest antiques shop on all of Phoenix Street. You’re in luck; I just acquired a treasure—a Warring States bronze sword! Its condition is on par with the Sword of King Yue. You look like a discerning fellow; I’ll give you a special price—fifty thousand. What do you say?”

Without batting an eye, the owner produced the sword he had just acquired for a thousand and instantly marked it up fiftyfold.

Lin Feng’s lips curled in a cold smile. Such shameless profiteering, such a predatory face—he was the very embodiment of the word “swindler.”