Bitterness filled Big-head's heart; however, in order to preserve his life, he put on a delighted expression and then obediently retrieved a small jar from his bag of holding.
It was about the size of a fist, and a handful of holes could be seen on its surface. When wind blew through the holes, they would emit a mournful whistling. There didn't seem to be anything special about the sound, and looking at the jar, Meng Hao couldn't see anything very unique about it. Even his Spiritual Sense didn't reveal anything special.
In fact, had he slain this Patriarch Big-head, upon searching his bag of holding, even if Meng Hao happened to pick up the jar, he would most likely have taken it to be some sort of musical instrument and then paid it no more heed.
Apparently fearing some sort of misunderstanding, Patriarch Big-head quickly bit his left index finger, then dropped some blood into nine of the holes which covered the jug, doing so in some specific order.
