"Thank you, Brother Ji Jue."
Xiao An did not decline, taking the inheritance before him with proper formality, which made Ji Jue even more pleased. He placed a second long rectangular box in front of him and solemnly clapped his hands:
"Take a look at this!"
He said expectantly, "The most important for the Sword Sound lineage is still to have a sword, right?"
In the silence, a faint and indistinct sound suddenly arose.
It occurred the moment Xiao An reached out his hand.
The pitch-black box trembled slightly, and a few minuscule dust particles resting on the box suddenly rose into the air, disturbed with fright. The spiritual circuit sealed on the box also appeared from nowhere, suppressing the internal agitation, yet unable to stop the distant and low hum from spreading.
The sword sound within the box was like a song of joy.
As if sensing its user nearby, the sword blade, never drawn since it was forged, howled with excitement, even resonating with An Ran's own matrix.
