Three Feet Wasn't Enough

His gaze slowly traveled upward. From the Sixth Layer onward, every region held sword cultivators who had stopped to witness the ceremony.

The closer one came to the mountaintop, the fewer cultivators there were.

By the Eleventh Layer, just one step away from the Twelfth Layer, only three people remained.

Of the three, the white-robed female sword cultivator came from Meishan. She was Ling Shuang's fellow disciple and Junior Sister, named Ning Jiu.

Standing beside her was an elderly Sword Cultivator, his hair white as frost and his eyes deep as ancient wells.

Though he was bent with age, the Sword Intent around him was like a sharp blade thrust straight into the heavens, impossible for ordinary cultivators to look upon directly.

"Fine sword, truly a fine sword..."

The old Sword Cultivator looked up at Ling Shuang, who stood in the air, his eyes brimming with envy.

"My Senior Sister's sword is naturally excellent. It is also the finest sword in all Azure Waves."

Ning Jiu added this after him. Clearly, she deeply admired her Senior Sister and believed that Ling Shuang would one day ascend to the pinnacle of Azure Waves' sword Dao.

At her words, the old Sword Cultivator's heart stirred with excitement. Yet that emotion was soon drowned by helplessness, and his gaze dimmed slightly.

His lifespan was already nearing its end. Upon learning that the Sword Immortal Taicang was proving the Dao, he had dragged this body, already half-buried in the earth, back up Heavenly Sword Mountain.

At death's door, he intended to use the insights from his lifetime of cultivating the Dao, borrowing the sword momentum amassed by the Sword Immortal Taicang's proof of the Dao, for one final gamble.

This method was exceedingly dangerous—one could almost say it offered ten deaths and no life.