The man holding the blade looked ordinary, no different from before.
Yet now he had a blade in his hand.
With the crescent-like curved blade appearing in his hand, his entire demeanor underwent a drastic transformation.
At this moment, he was no longer an attendant at the inn, but a swordsman of extraordinary grace.
Murong watched this person, and the blade, for a long while without speaking.
"Do you recognize this blade?" the man asked.
"Anyone who practices the blade would recognize it, though it has not been seen for a long time," Murong replied solemnly.
Holding the crescent-like curved blade, the man said, "Yes, it has been a long time indeed."
The blade, though not seen for a long time, had not rusted, instead, it burst forth with a terrifyingly sharp edge in an instant.
"Thank you, senior, for your help. Are you surnamed Ding by any chance?" Murong bowed and asked.
