But when they looked again at the piece of refined iron in Han Yan's hand, they almost couldn't hold back their laughter. That crooked piece of scrap, could it even be called a sword? It might not even be suitable for digging soil.
A trace of a cold smile appeared on Nie Fangsheng's lips. This Han Yan indeed had some natural talent; with just one night's effort, he had practiced the Twelve Techniques of Shaping and Forging to such an extent.
But alas, mastering the heat control of Sword Casting Technique is not such an easy task. To dare to place a bet on this, isn't he afraid of too much money?
"Such skill, and he dares to show it, he really isn't afraid of losing face," Qiu Zizhong said with a joyful expression, mocking.
"Yes, indeed, who knows where his confidence comes from. He has only learned the outward form and hasn't grasped the essence of the Sword Casting Technique, yet he dares to make a fool of himself."
