Li Sansheng stared at the three Dao swords again and again, looking unable to make a choice.
In the end, he hesitated. "I remember that besides these three Dao swords, the Great Lord once left a Dao sword named 'Little Qing Huan' here as well."
Before he could finish, Old Turtle gave a derisive snort. "What qualifications do you have to even think about Little Qing Huan?"
This time, Li Sansheng did not argue. He sighed. "Indeed... I know I am unworthy of this sword. But... people always need a few unrealistic dreams. Among us sword cultivators, anyone with even a bit of discernment—who wouldn't be utterly obsessed with Little Qing Huan?"
As he spoke, he seemed to reach a decision and pointed at the Dao sword in the middle. "This one."
Snow-Filled Head.
"You lie buried beneath the spring, your bones turned to mud; I remain in this mortal world, my head filled with snow."
Old Turtle froze. After a moment of silence, it said, "Do not disgrace this sword's illustrious name."
Li Sansheng took a deep breath. He first carefully wiped his hands on his clothes, then stepped forward and solemnly cupped his fists in salute toward the pitch-black Dao sword. "Li Sansheng, a late learner of the sword, obeys the Great Lord's imperial decree and borrows this sword for a time!"
His beard and hair were unkempt, his skin dark, and he looked rather slovenly.
Yet at this moment, his brows and eyes brimmed with solemnity and earnestness, while an invisible majesty radiated from his entire body.
It was as though he had become another person.
Clang!
The Dao sword suddenly let out a low sword cry, as if answering Li Sansheng.
Li Sansheng immediately felt relieved. Holding the sword in both hands, he beamed. "Using this