I Am Loaded With Passive Skills

Chapter 3766: Chapter 1821: Masterpiece Painting_3

A soft sound arose, resonating next to his ear, filled with concern yet whispered like a devil:

"Friend, are you anxious too?"

Dai Xiu’s throat rolled, tears teared up in his eyes, his body hair stood on end, nearly making him kneel to the ground.

Fake!

All fake!

Bazhun’an, you wish to destroy my Dao heart? You wish!

Dai Xiu merely staggered but managed to steady himself before the Ten High Nobles.

Yet as the people around, the illusory scenery began to fade, the hazy figure confronting Dai Xiu gradually solidified, revealing its true form.

Dai Xiu’s eyes went momentarily hollow, his pupils shivered uncontrollably, his cheeks trembled as if the flesh might fall off.

"You wish to fight me?"

He was a man dressed immaculately, resembling an immortal banished from the Heavens.

His black hair fluttered, exuding an untamed aura, his arched brows and bright eyes unruly, as his gaze pierced through, as if thousands of sword lights were roaring towards him.

"State your name."

His voice was calm and indifferent, so indifferent as if Dai Xiu was merely an insignificant challenger among many.

Perhaps, there wasn’t even a "perhaps."

"Dai, Dai Dai..."

In contrast, Dai Xiu’s teeth chattered, his state of mind completely unsettled, momentarily returning to that year.

That year he was neither a demi-saint nor the center of this battlefield, not someone with a name that could be called upon outside the battlefield.

He, like those insignificant shadows in the distant mountains, could only watch from afar as an unnoticed underling.

Suddenly he became the protagonist of the world, facing Bazhun’an directly, and even speaking became difficult.

No!

Fake!

It’s all fake!

Dai Xiu quickly stabilized his emotions, realizing how a fake Bazhun’an could have frightened him to this extent?

Today is not like the past, he has now become a sealing demi-saint, even if the true Bazhun’an were here, wouldn’t he stand a chance to battle...

"I said, state your name." Bazhun’an’s voice remained serene.

"Dai Xiu!!!"

Dai Xiu suddenly straightened up, his voice resounding, like a beast tamed with just a word.

"Choose a sword."

Bazhun’an’s black hair brushed across his face, his expression stern.

Though he disregards any opponent, every brave one daring to challenge him, he scorns to remember, yet he gives an opportunity for history to remember.

He joined two fingers and gave a gentle flick.

From his back, at his waist, five swords floated forth, each exuding a chilling murderous intent.

Dai Xiu’s eyes wavered, focusing with difficulty, noting that these five swords were either slender, or broad, either eerie, or lethal...

Of course he recognized these five swords!

Anyone from that era knew of Bazhun’an’s great sabers!

The purple greatsword was the Immortal Sword Purple Sky Drunk.

The one interwoven with gold dust was the Demon Sword Nu Lan’s Voice.

The pale broad one was the Injured Sword Great Sorrow Tears No Sword.

The black vicious one was one of the Five Great Divine Instruments of Chaos, the vicious sword, Fourth Swords.

The sword three feet long, with a bluish-white body, looking unremarkable, was the earliest saber accompanying Bazhun’an — Qingju!

Choose a sword?

The words spoken by Bazhun’an fell upon Dai Xiu’s ears as if saying "Choose your method of death," leaving him stunned.

I!

Mere Dai Xiu!

What virtue or ability do I have to die under any of these swords?

Amidst his wildly trembling mind, the single thread of clarity held within his spiritual altar forced Dai Xiu to straighten his back, preventing him from kneeling and begging for mercy in front of countless people during the War of the Ten High Nobles.

Fake!

He shouted fiercely within his heart.

He struggled for a long time, a time feeling as interminable as a century, and still did not know how to speak, how to break the stalemate.

Bazhun’an waited for three breaths, seeing him silent, flicked his sleeve and withdrew the swords, the five swords vanished entirely:

"I have finished choosing for you."

Upon hearing this, Dai Xiu felt as if struck by five thunderbolts, his knees nearly giving way, "Wait, at least..."

His hand barely reached out, like a drowning man trying to clutch at something.

Bazhun’an took a heavy step forward, his black hair sprayed up, splashing across his cheeks, his eyes bursting with sword lights!

"Buzz——"

Dizziness, ears ringing, mind in turmoil!

At this moment, Dai Xiu only felt himself being placed in a vast and desolate world, seeing himself still on the battlefield, still standing.

Yet all around him, everyone had disappeared.

The ground rippled with sword waves, the Nine Heavens’ cold winds fierce.

In the howling wind, a coolness brushed his face, Dai Xiu’s eyelashes trembled, catching a snowflake.

All sounds ceased, snow fell silently.

Dai Xiu strained his sight, seeing a world of whiteness, with only a solitary figure remaining — Bazhun’an!

Bazhun’an stood before him.

Bazhun’an was a foot above the sky!

He stood above, gazing down with disdain, unmoving yet his voice arrived first, a requiem of death, a sword aria of reincarnation:

"August seeks flying snow..."

This voice was endlessly ethereal, endlessly void, enchanting yet after futile yearning, only left one feeling lost:

"What was sought is unattainable..."