One of the Sword Shandian Sect elders stood frozen in place, his mouth slightly open, his hands trembling as he stared at Han Zhanjian. His eyes widened more and more with every passing second. The faint glow that shimmered in the boy's eyes a moment ago—it wasn't imagination. It wasn't a trick of the light. That was the mark. That was the unmistakable brilliance of the Sword Eyes.
His heart began to race.
Impossible.
The ritual earlier should have revealed such a thing instantly. The sect had used an ancient incantation, one that had never failed to detect a trace of sword lineage before. For the formation to give no response—it could only mean someone had hidden it.
But who?
