Logan shook his head, not taking those cumbersome rituals and feigned courtesies to heart. With a faint smile, his eyes betrayed a detached nonchalance, as though all the worldly chaos had nothing to do with him. Then, he took strides towards the melting furnace, his gaze instantly captivated by the quietly lying sword beside it.
He squatted down, scrutinizing the sword carefully. The blade emitted a faint glow, as if harboring infinite power. Fine patterns were etched onto the edge, each one seemingly a testament to its past glory and vicissitudes. The more Logan observed, the more astonished he became, inwardly filled with admiration.
"What a fine sword indeed!" Logan couldn't help but exclaim, "Its body strong and resilient, its edge sharp and clear, yet it exudes a stable and restrained aura. To reforge this sword, indeed, one would require superior materials like Dragon Blood. Master Wright, it seems you've indeed expended much effort for your eldest son, for this sword."