F*ck!
Lin Fan could only say "F*ck" to express his inner helplessness.
He spoke so bluntly.
Yet no one believed him.
This was an insult to him.
Just how hated could Qin Heng be in the Qin Mansion?
Originally, it was idle curiosity—thinking back to what Qin Heng once told him about how badly he wanted to join the Immortal Sect, just so he wouldn't be ridiculed. But fate didn't grant him salvation; he was born without a Spirit Root and failed the selection outright.
"Enough, enough. If you won't believe me, there's nothing I can do. But facts are facts."
"Now that I've seen Junior Brother Qin's parents, you can rest assured. Junior Brother Qin is living well; he likely needs cultivation for a dozen years before he can return in his current circumstances."
"I'll take my leave. If we meet again, it'll be fate."
Lin Fan clasped his hands in farewell and walked out of the hall. Truthfully, he wanted to put on an act, but forget it—he'd spare them this time.
