The figure in white chuckled dismissively, his mask hiding any hint of emotion. "Oh, you flatter me," he remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm. "But if you truly believe what you said to be true, why don't you hand over the sword, and then I can leave you all in peace?"
Facing the intruder head-on, the Sword Saint's gaze remained steady. "Have a heart," he retorted. "If I were to just hand it over, I would die with regret on my death bed. Instead, why don't we strike a deal?" He punctuated his words with a thoughtful stroke of his beard.
"A deal!?" The figure's words elicited disbelief from both the Sword Saint's children and grandchildren.
"Yes, a deal," the Sword Saint confirmed, briefly casting a stern glance back at his descendants. "My terms are simple: release all my children and grandchildren here, and then you and I can engage in an epic battle. Should you emerge victorious, you may claim the fabled sword as your own."
