145, Accepting surrender

Whale.

The blade three feet three inches, the hilt two feet two inches.

The mouth of the blade, where it resembles the jaws of a white tiger with furious eyes, reached his eyebrows when propped up, and surged like a tide when lifted.

Chen Ji slowly sheathed the blade in front of him, the Whale Blade not a drop of blood on it, smooth as a mirror.

In the moonlight, he saw his reflection in the "mirror", the withered leaves brought by the mountain wind swept behind him, his hair slightly moved by the breeze near his ears, each and every one visible in detail.

The wind stopped.

A withered leaf slowly fell from the sky onto the blade of the Whale, silently split into two, and gently returned to the earth.

That blade, after thousands of years, had finally returned to his hand.

Chen Ji suddenly wondered, if this blade was real, if the inexplicable sense of familiarity when he held the blade was also real, then everything Xuanyuan had said must also be true.