Chapter Twelve: The Broken Sword

Over the years, Zhang Can had dealt most in jade, and naturally understood it best. Of course, without his black-and-white vision, he would never have distinguished the quality of this jade dog. He hadn’t even stepped forward to examine it closely; just a single glance was enough for Zhang Can to assert its poor quality, leaving Zhu Senlin half-convinced. After Su and his companions inspected it for a while, they agreed and nodded to Zhu Senlin in confirmation.

Zhu Senlin hesitated; he wasn’t sure whether to fight tooth and nail for the very first item in the first round. Yet, in terms of financial power, he was certainly the weakest. If the others truly wanted it, he might not be able to secure it. He’d had similar experiences before: the items he managed to acquire were those the others deemed unprofitable or beneath their interest, and thus he was left with little to compete over. Of course, his earnings were modest as well.

Zhu Senlin was not unfamiliar with jade pieces—white jade, yellow jade, green jade, jadeite, ink jade, sugar jade, Han white jade, Beijing white jade, Nanyang jade, Lantian jade—he had seen and played with them all. Yet true antique jade was rare in his collection; he had two pieces of Nanyang jade, but both were contemporary and of little value. Genuine ancient jade, especially unearthed from the ground, was not merely jade—it was an antique.

The carving of the jade dog was somewhat crude, but considering the era, it could not be compared to modern tools. The art of jade carving had only just originated then, and its rough craftsmanship led Su and the others to conclude it was simply too early a period.

When Sun Tianzhi saw that the appraisers all agreed it was genuine, he nodded and said, “Mr. Wang, everyone has finished their appraisal. I’ll name a price—starting at 1.2 million.”

A starting price of 1.2 million was not high for an antiquity from the Western Zhou, especially a jade piece, but its condition was undeniably poor. Ma Dong remained silent, Chen Xingguo added only fifty thousand, and Mr. Wang did not bid at all.

Most people refrained from bidding; Zhu Senlin resolved to trust Zhang Can and kept quiet. Su grew anxious, knowing Zhu Senlin had the weakest financial base. The item held little interest for the others—if he didn’t seize the chance now, he’d have no opportunity later, especially if better pieces appeared. Others would certainly covet finer items, and without financial advantage, how could he compete?

Their purpose was really to pick up the leftovers—items no one else wanted—earning a modest profit of several tens of thousands at best. This had been their usual outcome in the past.

Zhu Senlin had often taken Su’s advice, but today he seemed transformed, calm and unmoved.

Sun Tianzhi was not surprised; this first jade dog was never the focus—merely a test of the waters. In the end, only Chen Xingguo bid, taking it for 1.25 million.

The second item was stranger—a broken sword, only a foot long. The hilt was blue-purple, the blade red—not from rust, but from some other cause. The blade was extremely thin, like a finger, and emanated a chilling sharpness. Yet the sword was broken, a flaw.

This time, Sun Tianzhi did not speak first, but smiled and let the others examine and appraise it themselves.

Ma Dong and Chen Xingguo’s appraisers frowned as they inspected it; Mr. Wang’s appraiser appeared thoughtful, while Su was simply baffled. The sword had not a trace of rust, and though it was called a sword, it hardly resembled one. Ancient swords were never so thin. Early metallurgy lacked modern alloy knowledge, and furnace temperatures then were far below today’s, making it nearly impossible to forge swords of great strength. The famed swords of legend were the masterpieces of renowned ancient smiths, forged with all their lifetime’s skill.

A smith, like a poet, might spend his whole life to forge a single legendary sword.

The group examined it for a long time, but said nothing. Except for Mr. Wang’s appraiser, who seemed to ponder it, the others could not make sense of the broken sword—it left them all at a loss.

In antiques, regardless of the item, the primary points of appraisal were appearance and completeness, and only then finer details. If an item lacked completeness, its value was greatly diminished. This sword was already broken; its original worth aside, its completeness was lacking.

Standing beside Zhu Senlin, Zhang Can was puzzled. Using his black-and-white vision, he saw in that world a structure of rare metals—tungsten, chromium, vanadium—within the sword’s molecules. These rare metals are only present in modern metallurgy; ancient smelting could never reach such sophistication, especially given their high melting points, impossible for ancient furnaces. Was this sword of modern origin?

But Zhang Can immediately dismissed the notion, because the molecular structure’s quenching dated back over two thousand five hundred years—proving the sword was undoubtedly ancient!

Whenever Zhang Can entered the black-and-white world, he never saw his own eyes in a mirror, so he dared not prolong the use. Once he confirmed the authenticity and the density and age of the materials, he quickly ceased the vision, saving his energy for later items lest he be unable to use the black-and-white vision again.

He had practiced many times; the first use was the most exhausting, leaving him utterly drained. With repeated use, he grew more adept, able to maintain it longer and with greater intervals. Yet using it many times in one day still required caution—otherwise he would not have the stamina to sustain it.

Once more, Zhu Senlin had no intention of bidding—a broken sword held no appeal. He meant to ask Su’s opinion, but seeing Su more confused than ever, unable to judge its worth, he turned to Zhang Can. “Xiao Zhang, do you have any thoughts?”

Zhang Can hesitated, then lowered his head and spoke quietly, “Old Zhu, this… is a fine piece, though I don’t know if we can acquire it.”

Zhu Senlin was startled. “This broken sword is a fine piece?” He realized his voice was too loud and felt embarrassed.

But his words drew the attention of Sun Tianzhi and Mr. Wang, especially Mr. Wang’s appraiser. All three fixed their gaze on Zhu Senlin.

“Boss Zhu, tell us, what do you think of this broken sword?”

Sun Tianzhi’s question, delivered with a smile, made Zhang Can suspect he was deliberately testing them—this man would not easily part with the sword.

Zhu Senlin laughed awkwardly, quickly deflecting. “He… my friend will answer. We share similar views; we just discussed it.”

He salvaged a bit of face, passing the question to Zhang Can. Since Zhang Can had already said it was a fine piece, he must have noticed something. Better let him speak than risk making a fool of himself.

Originally, Zhang Can wanted to observe the situation, to test Sun Tianzhi’s knowledge of the sword’s origin. If he knew, it was no bargain; even if he wanted it, it would not come easily. If not, there was a chance to secure it for a low price. But Sun Tianzhi’s expression suggested he was well aware.

After a moment’s thought, Zhang Can decided to probe Sun Tianzhi’s reaction.

“Boss Sun, what starting price do you want for this broken sword?”

Sun Tianzhi smiled, giving no answer and deftly evading, “Let’s not talk price yet. I’d like to hear everyone’s opinions first, see if you know its history.”

Zhang Can immediately understood—Sun Tianzhi was simply building up the item, aiming to drive its price as high as possible. Forget it; it seemed Old Zhu would not get this piece after all.

“Well, since Old Zhu asked, I’ll share my thoughts. Just my personal opinion—if I’m mistaken, please don’t ridicule me.”

He smiled, but his face betrayed no lack of confidence. Since Sun Tianzhi already knew the truth, there was no need to feign ignorance. Better to speak plainly; this would surely win Zhu Senlin’s appreciation, and deal a blow to Old Su.

“Since Boss Sun wants me to speak, I’ll oblige. I won’t name the sword just yet, but let me tell a story.”

Sun Tianzhi’s eyes brightened, sensing this young man, long overlooked, was not so ordinary after all.

Zhang Can continued, “During the Spring and Autumn period, King Liao of Wu frequently invaded Chu. Later, Prince Guang hired a brave assassin named Zhuan Zhu to kill the king. Zhuan Zhu learned that King Liao’s guards were formidable—assassinating him would be nigh impossible. But Zhuan Zhu was both clever and courageous. To ensure success, he studied the king’s habits, learning that he loved grilled fish. So Zhuan Zhu went to Lake Tai and mastered the finest grilling techniques. When he arrived in Wu, his skill soon reached the king’s ears, and King Liao summoned him to the palace to demonstrate. Zhuan Zhu presented a fragrant, freshly grilled phoenix-tail fish to the king. In that instant, the king sensed an intense murderous aura and immediately called his guards to seize Zhuan Zhu!”

Though Zhang Can recounted merely a tale, it drew the crowd into suspense. His storytelling at this moment was surely not without purpose.

“The guards surged forward, forming layers of protection before the king, blocking Zhuan Zhu’s advance. At the same time, Zhuan Zhu drew a slender sword from the fish’s belly, and with one stroke cut through two crossed iron spears held by the guards. Without pausing, he pressed forward. More guards blocked the way, but Zhuan Zhu, with all his strength, hurled the sword he had drawn from the fish’s belly. The blade pierced the breastplate of the first guard, exited through his back, entered the chest of the second, and passed through the third—three bodies in succession. At that moment, the sword broke in two. Yet its murderous power did not cease; the broken blade shot forward and pierced the king’s chest, emerging from his back and pinning him to the great wooden pillar in the hall!”

Everyone was drawn into the tension of Zhang Can’s story, though some wondered whether it was the sword’s sharpness or Zhuan Zhu’s skill that mattered most.

While the others pondered the tale, Old Su suddenly cried out, “The Fish-Belly Sword?”