"Throw the weapon behind you over here. Three seconds, if you don't throw, I'll shoot."
"One!"
"Two!"
Lin Fan didn't want the elderly man's emotions to stay so agitated. After all, considering his age, constantly being in such a state of excitement might be too much for his body to handle.
Therefore, he directly threw the weapon over.
"Old man, take it easy. I really mean no harm. This weapon is very heavy, and you can't lift it." Lin Fan reminded.
The old man cautiously looked at Lin Fan while slowly approaching the sword, Frostmourne, which had fallen on the ground, then stretched out his foot, intending to nudge the sword aside.
The tip of his toe touched the hilt.
But something strange happened—the sword on the ground didn't move an inch.
The old man didn't mind, thinking he just hadn't used enough strength. While remaining vigilant against Lin Fan, he crouched down and reached out his arm, trying to pick up Frostmourne.
