Han Xiaohan's hand shrank back as if it had been electrocuted. At the moment of contact, he felt too many things, including anger, evil spirit, kindness, and peace, but more of sadness, which was thick and profound. He was too young to understand it all, and instinctively reflected one word in his mind: ghost!
Most children are afraid of ghosts, and he is no exception. He raised his head with great effort, looking at the little ink cartridge left on his stomach in horror, wondering if it was just his illusion. To verify, he reached out his hand again, and his fingertips just touched it lightly, and then he took it back immediately. This time, he felt nothing.
It was indeed an illusion. Han Xiaohan sighed with a mature look, not knowing whether to be happy or disappointed.
Without any further hesitation, he grabbed the ink cartridge, which had become as thick as two fingers, and wanted to take a closer look.
Unexpectedly, the current appeared again, and it was stronger than the last time. If the first current was a low voltage of 120 volts, this time it was a high voltage of more than 1,000 volts. He felt his head buzzing, and countless emotions that he only vaguely understood flooded into his mind, extremely clear. Anger, hatred for everything in the world, evil spirit, destroying everything in the world, love, saving millions of lives, peace, calming the injustice of the world, and sorrow, but it was endless and extremely strong. It was a great sorrow that was abandoned by the world, not understood, and buried for thousands of years. Han Xiaohan's small head couldn't bear so many things. He opened his mouth and wanted to vent with shouting, but his mouth opened, but no word came out. Shock and fear filled his heart at the same time. He saw thousands of rays of light shooting out from the gaps between his tightly clenched fingers.
The light gradually grew stronger, and his little hands became hotter and hotter. Han Xiaohan opened his palms, and the strong light was emitted by the ink cartridge. He shook his hands repeatedly, as if he had caught a dead mouse, trying to throw the ink cartridge away. The ink cartridge seemed to grow on his palms, and he shook it and shook it, but it didn't move at all. What frightened Han Xiaohan the most was that it began to melt again.
Han Xiaohan didn't know how much blood was in his body, but he knew that if the ink cartridge continued to suck blood, he would really die.
The ink cartridge melted to its limit, and with a 'pop' sound, two glowing objects, one red and one white, slipped out of his little hand.
Han Xiaohan panted for a long time before he regained his composure. He lay on the ground, not daring to look. Too many incredible things had happened to the ink cartridge today, and he was scared.
People say that curiosity can kill an elephant, especially children, who are most curious. After lying quietly for a while, Han Xiaohan couldn't resist the curiosity, so he supported himself with his right arm on the ground, slowly raised his upper body, and checked what had fallen.
There were two objects, one red and one white, as long as two pins and more than two centimeters wide, shining in the snow. He moved forward and took a closer look. Han Xiaohan was surprised. They were two miniature swords. Although small, they had all the necessary functions. They were no different from real swords, except that they were shrunk countless times. The sword bodies were straight and finely crafted, and even the patterns on the hilt and the sword body were clearly visible. If he looked closer, he would find that there were two ancient characters the size of millet grains engraved on the blades of the two miniature swords: Ghost Cry and God's Howl.