After the blaring white enormous sigil of the Azure Dragon soul touched the almost broken down rock gate, the ground shook, rumbling and the scenery abruptly changed from the former serenity to a gloomy prairie dotted with countless swords sticking over the ground, all the way to the horizons.
There was a flag, tagged with some majestic Chinese words with each stroke emitting a distinct, strong sword intent.
WELCOME TO THE TOMB OF DEMONIC SWORD!
Remaining icy calm as always, Mo Qiu asked, "Treasure!? Still, I don't see one. They are all just the old, ragged, rusty, and broken swords."
Hei lang, the white puppy, who was laying in between her folded arms, replied, speaking telepathically to them: "White Hair Aunt, don't you see? Those broken swords are worth more than any treasures; I mean each of them represents an inheritance left by their former wielders."
