บท 67: 66: Sordid sight; a promise to be fulfilled

Lin FenXiang reeled back, almost as if he was slapped. Eyes blow wide, he gaped at the painting.

On his sides, his hands shook. There was no way this painting had been tampered with by him!

He hadn't touched the painting after it had been hung in this room. And that is for centuries, this was an absurdity to even think of.

He closed his eyes, teeth grinding together as he took a step back.

If he hadn't done it, yet the style told a different story then it could only point to one thing.

And that was someone who had imitated his style and tampered with the painting. And if it was really imitated, then he would give it to them for being a damn good one.

He turned on his heels, cold anger and determination blazing in his eyes as he strode towards the door.

Something was wrong and horribly so. How could someone ever tamper with his art in such a manner?

As soon as he stepped out of the room, the artist — with all his cold fury — came face to face with Yan Hansheng.