"Roar!"
The Qilin raised its head to the sky and let out a long howl, as a longsword slowly surged forth from its mouth.
The sword's blade was about four feet long, entirely made of bronze, filled with mottled rust marks. The hilt was casually wrapped in cloth strips, exuding a sense of ancient simplicity and solemnity.
"Could it be..."
Huo Wuya seemed to have thought of something, a look of astonishment appeared on his face.
The Qilin bit the longsword, wagged its tail, and came before Chen Mo, its eyes full of anticipation.
"Is this for me?" Chen Mo asked.
"Woo." The Qilin nodded.
"Uh, thank you."
Looking at the seemingly unremarkable, rusted blade, Chen Mo didn't turn it away and eagerly accepted it, directly reaching out to grasp the sword's hilt.
Buzz—
As soon as Chen Mo touched the longsword, the blade began to tremble violently, emitting a series of metallic clangs, as if it had its own will, struggling against his grip, nearly breaking free at any moment.
"Hmm?"
