The Sword Saint cleared his throat, his piercing gaze sweeping over the gathered assembly, before he continued speaking on the matter at hand. "Now, let us return to the main topic at hand," he declared, his voice commanding attention as he delved back into the discussion. "As for the method of selecting my successor, it shall be through the wielding of my sword." He paused for emphasis, knowing the weight of his next words. "As you all know, my sword is no ordinary blade. It is a magical weapon, one that chooses its wielder."
As the Sword Saint's words hung in the air, murmurs and whispers flowed through the room like a gentle breeze, carrying with them the weight of skepticism and doubt.
"I mean, pulling the grandfather's sword? That's like trying to move a mountain," remarked one grandchildren, his tone laced with uncertainty.
