Across from Lian, a man holding a folding fan spoke persuasively, offering a sky-high price.
But the man named Lian didn't even bat an eye, continuing to hammer the hot iron in his hand, blow after blow.
From the looks of it, the two had been at this for a long time.
Su Ye listened to the voices and glanced at the man holding the folding fan, dressed in fine silks. She recognized him at once: Yang Xuan.
Lian remained silent, focused only on his forging.
His attitude finally caused the smile on Yang Xuan's face to slowly fade.
The Yang Family was vast and powerful, and as its young master, he had never had to grovel before anyone, let alone someone so utterly ungrateful.
Beside Yang Xuan stood another man, around forty or fifty years old.
He had a tuft of a beard on his chin and projected a powerful aura. His eyes bored down on Lian with an imposing pressure. Judging by his lavish robes and high Cultivation, Su Ye had a few suspicions about who he might be.
