"Father, don't say that! It was clearly broken in my hands, what does it have to do with you?" The woman in the black robe, full of guilt, held the old man's hand even tighter.
"You still have the nerve to speak! You're just a little girl who insists on barehanded fighting, you haven't even learned a bit of the Yuan Sword's basics. What kind of Yuan Sword inheritor are you! Cough, cough!"
The old man coughed angrily, and the woman in the black robe hurried to pat his back. The old man then said:
"Your mother is still the better one, able to smile even in the afterlife. She accepted Xiaotong, a gifted one, as a disciple, at least she has honored the ancestors of the Yuan Sword."
The old woman elbowed her husband with some effort, and then held the hand of the woman in the white dress tightly:
