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Li Sansheng looked the swords over intently, again and again. It seemed he was struggling to decide.
In the end, he said hesitantly, “I remember that, in addition to these three swords, the Big Boss left a sword called ‘Small Serenities.’”
Before he could continue, the old turtle sneered. “What right do you have to covet Small Serenities?”
This time, Li Sanjiu didn’t argue. He just said, “It’s true… I’m unworthy of it, but… everyone has their unrealistic notions. Any sword cultivator with any degree of perceptiveness longs for Small Serenities even in their dreams.”
With that, he seemed to have made up his mind. He pointed to the sword in the middle. “I’ll take that one.”
Snow Cap.
The name came from a line of poetry: “You lie buried beneath the earth, while I live on, my hair as white as a cap of snow.”
The turtle was briefly stunned. After a moment’s silence, it said, “Don’t do anything to besmirch its reputation.”
Li Sansheng took a deep breath, wiped his hands on his robes, then stepped forward to claim the ink-black sword. He solemnly clasped his fist. “Li Sansheng, a humble student of the Dao of...
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