Just as Han Changchun guessed, the two swords in the ink box were indeed the two swords of gods and ghosts that devoured countless blood back then. As for how they were wrapped in the ink box and how they ended up in the hands of Duan Qi's ancestors, it was a mystery. The magic weapon recognized its master, and the two swords of gods and ghosts transformed into qi and drilled into Han Xiaohan's body, along with the super strong qi that it carried, which was absorbed by him. The human body could not withstand such a powerful force at all, so there was the tragic scene of Han Xiaohan's skin peeling off and his bones broken in the previous article. However, the two swords of gods and ghosts were buried for more than 2,000 years, and finally saw the light of day and found their host. How could they let him die easily? The two swords communicated with spirits, and when Xiaohan was on the verge of death, his body was remodeled, so that his body could accommodate the terrifying power brought by the two swords, and he could be better controlled by himself. Few people know that Chi Hui's brutality was largely caused by the "ghost cry" in the twin swords. It seemed that the man was controlling the swords, but in fact, it was the swords that were controlling the man. Who could explain the mystery of this except Chi Hui himself
In the spring of the 45th year after the founding of the People's Republic of China, Han Xiaohan, eight years old, finally left the backward and elegant villa in the deep mountains of Donglin and went to elementary school in the small town of Donglin, 20 miles away from the foot of the mountain.
This was his first contact with the world outside the village, and he finally understood that there were iron boxes that could run without being pulled by horses, glass balls that could emit light, houses that were much taller than the tallest trees in the Donglin Mountains, and people could wear clothes and comb their hair in the same way.
Everything was so new and incredible to him.
The one who brought him out was Han Changchun. The old man had specially chosen a Zhongshan suit made of dark blue woolen material, which he had rarely worn since the founding of the People's Republic of China. He was over 80 years old, but his back was still straight. His hair was gray and neatly combed behind his head. His eyes, which were full of fish lines, did not show any presbyopia. On the contrary, his eyes were bright and sharp. Although his clothes were not very good, the old man was full of energy and spirit. When he raised his hands and feet, his superior momentum was naturally revealed.
Han Xiaohan also had a new set of clothes. The fabric was new, but the workmanship was a bit rough. Duan Qijian's swordsmanship was amazing, but the clothes he made overnight were really not good enough. When Han Changchun picked up the clothes he made, he looked at them carefully, and finally said something very sincere: It's a waste of the cloth I exchanged for five pounds of good Shaodao. Xiaohan's clothes were not appropriate, but it did not affect his extraordinary temperament at all. His skin was so fair and delicate that even girls would be jealous of him. His soft black long hair was neatly cut and slightly above his eyebrows, just not covering his big eyes that were as round as almond kernels. His nose was small and upturned, and his white teeth and red lips made him look so cute when he laughed. Since entering the town, his eyes have not been idle. He looked around and was very curious about everything he saw. If Han Changchun hadn't pulled him hard, he might not have been able to walk to school before dark.
Donglin Primary School is not big. There is a playground half the size of a football field in the center of the school, surrounded by a circle of bungalow school buildings, that’s all.
But in the eyes of Han Xiaohan, who grew up in the mountains, it was a rare thing for the school to have such a large square.