The old man's furious roar instantly attracted even more attention.
People nearby who had originally been focused on their own appraisals gradually turned toward the disturbance. Several appraisers from neighboring sections lifted their heads. Even the filming crew immediately shifted camera angles toward Lucien's table.
After all, most of the items brought here had been purchased from auctions, estate sales, antique dealers, or mysterious overseas channels.
Some were fake.
Some were genuine.
Some were impossible to determine at a glance.
And among that endless pile of junk and treasure, there were always stories.
Now a young appraiser and an enraged old collector had begun arguing in public.
For ordinary viewers, this was far more entertaining than watching someone quietly explain porcelain glaze techniques.
Nearby staff exchanged glances.
Even the producer monitoring recordings from a distance was nearly smiling ear to ear.
Perfect.
Absolute perfect material.
Experts appreciated details.
Ordinary people loved drama.
And television relied on drama.
Meanwhile, in the center of all this attention, Lucien remained seated calmly.
No panic.
No embarrassment.
No anger.
There was even the faintest trace of a smile on his face.
Compared to the old man's red face and bulging veins, the difference between them was almost comical.
"Of course I understand," Lucien said lightly.
"Otherwise I wouldn't be sitting here."
He glanced at the porcelain without urgency.
"I can assure you—it's new."
The old man nearly exploded.
"Nonsense!"
He grabbed a blue-and-white porcelain vase from the table and held it up aggressively.
"Look carefully!"
"The material! The pattern! The patina! The rust spots!"
"Can you even understand any of this?!"
Then his eyes narrowed.
"And you—still wet behind the ears—come sit here pretending to be some master appraiser?"
"What exactly did your elders teach you?"
Lucien's expression didn't change.
But the faint smile disappeared from his eyes.
For a brief moment, silence settled around him.
Because those words touched something they shouldn't have.
Old Man Su.
Though they weren't connected by blood, that old man had raised him, taught him, and spent over a decade by his side.
Family wasn't decided by blood.
It was decided by time.
By care.
By who stayed beside you.
Insulting him?
Lucien could ignore that.
But mentioning his family?
That was different.
Very different.
Across from him, the old man remained completely unaware.
He pointed aggressively at the vase.
"Look at this pattern!"
"Say it's fake again!"
"This is standard Sumali blue-and-white porcelain! Industry recognized—an open-gate treasure!"
"A textbook Yuan Dynasty piece!"
"And you dare call this new?!"
"What do you know?!"
"I was testing you!"
"You fraud!"
Lucien looked at him.
Then looked at the vase.
Then replied calmly:
"New."
"Completely new."
"Undeniably new."
Three sentences.
Three attacks.
Instant kill.
The old man's entire body trembled.
"Fine!"
"Fine!!"
"Since you insist it's fake, explain!"
"What's fake?!"
"How is it fake?!"
He rolled up his sleeves dramatically.
Judging from his posture, if Lucien couldn't provide an explanation, the old man looked prepared to settle things physically.
Meanwhile cameras rolled closer.
Nearby audiences moved in.
Even neighboring appraisers stopped working.
Inside the control area, the producer almost stood up.
Fight.
Fight harder.
This was television gold.
Of course Lucien wasn't actually worried.
Not because he feared losing.
Mostly because if he accidentally hit the old man...
he might genuinely kill him.
That would create paperwork.
Lucien hated paperwork.
So instead he sighed and began explaining.
"First."
He pointed toward the blue coloring.
"This Sumali pigment doesn't fit late Yuan historical context."
"Second."
He tapped the pattern.
"The figures here are wrong."
"Spring clouds."
"Ethereal characters."
"Those belong to Ming Dynasty blank-period styles."
"Not Yuan."
"Third."
He pointed toward the rust spots.
"These are fake."
"Artificial aging."
Then he leaned back.
"To put it simply..."
"This thing is a complete fabrication."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The old man's face froze.
Then became red.
Then purple.
Then red again.
Finally—
he exploded.
"I spent three hundred thousand dollars on this!"
"I had professionals appraise it!"
"Experts examined it!"
"They all said it was genuine!"
"Only YOU say it's fake?!"
Then he turned dramatically toward the crowd.
"Everyone come look!"
"Come look!"
"There's a fraud here pretending to be an appraiser!"
"Don't get fooled!"
Human beings loved spectacle.
Within moments, people originally standing elsewhere moved toward them.
Whispers spread.
More cameras gathered.
More eyes focused on Lucien.
Yet Lucien remained entirely unbothered.
In fact—
he looked almost amused.
Because he already knew this old man wasn't here for appraisal.
He came looking for trouble.
Fine.
Then he'd have trouble.
The old man pointed directly at Lucien.
"You dare say nonsense in front of me?"
"Would you dare repeat it in front of everyone?!"
Lucien folded his hands calmly.
"Where does your confidence come from?"
"Why are you so certain it's Yuan Dynasty porcelain?"
The old man sneered.
"My confidence?"
"It comes from THIS!"
He immediately pulled another box from his luggage.
Opening it carefully—
he revealed a porcelain cup.
"There!"
"This blue-and-white cup has been passed down through my family!"
"My great-grandfather bought it personally in Beijing!"
"A genuine treasure!"
"Look!"
"Identical!"
He confidently placed it before Lucien.
The surrounding audience immediately leaned forward.
Even cameras zoomed in.
Lucien glanced down.
Then sighed softly.
"Indeed."
"It was bought by your great-grandfather."
The crowd blinked.
Wait.
What?
Had he admitted he was wrong?
Across from him, the old man immediately crossed his arms and snorted triumphantly.
Too late.
You want to back down now?
Too late.
But Lucien looked up again.
Then calmly continued:
"Birds of a feather truly flock together."
"Your ancestors were exactly like you."
The old man's smile froze.
Lucien pointed toward the cup.
"Blind."
Silence.
"Three generations passed this thing down?"
"And not one person in your family developed a functioning brain?"
The venue became dead silent.
Everyone stared.
Even the cameras seemed frozen.
The old man's eyes widened.
Lucien continued mercilessly.
"This one's new too."
"If you compare fake things to fake things..."
"Then naturally they look identical."
The old man's fingers trembled.
"You..."
"What did you say...?"
Lucien looked completely sincere.
"I know you're in a hurry."
"But don't rush."
"This one is also new."
"Actually..."
He pointed lazily across the table.
"Everything you brought is new."
The old man's breathing suddenly became uneven.
Veins bulged.
His eyes widened.
He looked seconds away from collapse.
Yet Lucien still continued calmly.
"Why get so emotional?"
"I'm helping you."
"So you stop treating junk like treasure."
Then he thought briefly.
"Oh right."
"If you really want authentic Sumali blue porcelain..."
Lucien pointed toward the distance.
"I suggest taking a taxi to the airport."
"Fly from Los Angeles to Shanghai."
"Then hire a car."
"Go to Jiangxi."
"Head straight to Jingdezhen."
"Spend a few hundred dollars."
"You can buy one."
Silence.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three.
Then—
the old man's eyes rolled backward.
And he dropped.
Straight down.
Thankfully security nearby reacted quickly and caught him before his head smashed into the floor.
"Sir?!"
"Sir, calm down!"
Another guard shouted:
"Call an ambulance!"
"Hurry!"
The surrounding crowd panicked briefly.
Then one guard glanced toward Lucien—
only to find him staring with visible annoyance.
The guard froze.
For some reason...
he suddenly felt like he had interrupted something.
And strangely—
he wasn't wrong.
Because Lucien truly looked irritated.
"Why save him..."
"His barking was getting quieter."
Then under everyone's horrified gaze—
Lucien calmly opened his suitcase.
Took out a tea set.
Thermos.
Tea leaves.
Then slowly began making tea.
Not a trace of guilt.
Not a trace of panic.
Steam rose.
Tea aroma spread.
Lucien took a small sip.
Thought for a moment.
Then looked up at everyone surrounding him.
"Next."
Silence.
The crowd looked at each other.
Then—
without speaking—
they collectively took several steps backward.
Then several more.
And several more.
Within seconds the crowd completely dispersed.
The bustling audience vanished instantly.
Lucien stared at the suddenly empty surroundings.
"..."
For the first time that day—
Lucien was speechless.