I Am Loaded With Passive Skills

Chapter 3768: Chapter 1822: Invincible (Part 2)

Every snowflake that falls on Dai Xiu in Fusang City feels like cotton landing on a high mountain, the mountain remains unmoved.

But when the Sleeve Sword and Double Needles stir up snowflakes that fly and shoot through the wilderness, Dai Xiu’s demi-saint defense appears as fragile as paper.

He is pierced through and wounded all over by the snowflakes swirling everywhere.

"No—"

As the countdown in Fusang City reaches ten, Dai Xiu can no longer restrain the trembling in his heart.

He desperately tries to calm his past self.

But at this moment, the heart calamity, which he could suppress with various means during the saint calamity, is effortlessly drawn out in his defenseless state.

The first cultivation deviation caused by the forcible Enlightenment at the Innate stage...

A tendency for self-repression, unable to be bypassed at the age of twenty in the Secular Sword emotion trial...

The belief of seizing opportunity at a demi-saint ruin, only to nearly be possessed by an old demi-saint monster, with a confrontation lasting a full thirteen years...

Small ones, big ones.

From the itching under the boots to the deadly ones.

Along with the snowflakes piercing the body, like sharp swords entering the intent, all kinds of past events rush in!

In an instant, Dai Xiu is tormented to the point of turning green, his face turning purple with a nauseating urge to vomit.

But he is not the Half-Saint Green Ghost.

His past can still be spoken of reasonably, and everything is still considered to be on the path of Righteousness.

At least every time in the past, he successfully overcame his trials, and more importantly, he overcame himself.

And this time...

"This time, likewise!"

The roar in his heart sea, Dai Xiu finds himself once again.

He looks towards the Ten High Nobles before him, all ten are illusions—I can defeat them!

He looks towards Bazhun’an before him, even Bazhun’an is not real—I will defeat him!

With the strong confidence of a demi-saint, he breaks free from the predicament, about to be reborn in fire. Dai Xiu wields the Che Li Spear and strikes down, unraveling the Way of the Sword surrounding him.

"Swish!"

All around Fusang, everyone is shocked.

The first!

Among the Four Saints, Dai Xiu is the first and the only one to suddenly move and break the shackles.

Dan Saint Lu Shiyu reveals a surprised expression, Yin Ghost Sect’s Li You is somewhat taken aback, but Dai Xiu remains oblivious, focused only on the present.

"Yes, it’s all fake!"

"These are merely the Second World, just his trivial tricks!"

The semi-saint person is summoned, and Holy Power splendidly blooms.

Even his entire body is drenched in blood, Dai Xiu advances without hesitation, aiming directly after that move towards the fake Bazhun’an whose aura has slightly waned!

"Buzz..."

At this moment, the scene around them dramatically cracks.

The Ten High Nobles turn into ashes and vanish into the smoke.

Dai Xiu finds himself back in Fusang City, saint’s will detects the other Three Saints around him.

Half-Saint Green Ghost is shrieking queerly, holding his head and fleeing like a rat, unkempt and unsure of what has transpired.

Half-Saint Cheng Caizhi feels like he fell into an ice cellar, his limbs tremble, eyes wandering, unsure of what has transpired.

Half-Saint Luo Hui tightens his thighs, biting his lower lip, his face flushed to a blush, also unsure of what has transpired.

"None of them managed to break free, why can I?"

"Or is it that only my escape was fake?"

As thoughts wavered like a floating boat, flashing this notion, confidence crumbled, Dai Xiu suddenly realized something was amiss.

As expected, the predicament of the Ten High Nobles again swept in like a nightmare.

Dai Xiu stopped his steps again.

What he saw was Bazhun’an following with another sword, moving forward.

With the same serene ease, the same leisurely pace, he completed the choice for himself, pointed the way, and then a sword light came from the east.

At this moment the flying snow disappeared, between heaven and earth, the golden light emerged, accommpanied by a ethereal song:

"The world has the hidden great Buddha..."

...

"Why am I, to this extent?"

The pressure is immense!

Truly immense!

This "With Each Poem, A Sword, One Sword and One Song", if one has not fought personally, if one has not participated in the War of the Ten High Nobles but merely heard tales, it might still be bearable.

Dai Xiu is not!

When the chanting starts again, he, in an instant, lives through his own short and non-brilliant life in his mind.

Compared to the reputation of the Eighth Sword Deity, he is not even a speck of dust.

Dai Xiu suddenly awakens, he is not the protagonist of this battle, Cheng Caizhi is!

He merely came by invitation, merely testing the waters, why should he fight to this extent for Cheng Caizhi, daring to try the edge of the Eighth Sword Deity’s blade—no matter if he is or isn’t.

"I’ve gone insane!"

Retreating thoughts surged like a flood breaching a dam, irretrievable.

Dai Xiu even dispelled the desire to fight, retracting the Che Li Spear, a point of Holy Blood was sacrified, without hesitation choosing...

"Blood Escape!"

...

"Blood Escape·Retreat Heaven Road!"

"Blood Escape·Snow Falling Back!"

"Forbidden·Nine Ghosts Moving God!"

Cheng Caizhi wakes up from the nightmare after several consecutive calls.

His face showed a blank expression, and as his saint’s will swept over, he saw the three saints before and behind him, all pale as paper, unsure of what they had experienced.

One after another, some spitting blood essence, others sacrificing holy blood, even Half-Saint Green Ghost abandoned his physical body...

In fact, they were fleeing!

"Three of you!?"

Cheng Caizhi’s eyes were about to pop out.

He had just barely survived the ordeal in the Pear Garden, barely escaped, hoping to unite with the three saints to counterattack.

Little did he expect these three saints, frightened out of their wits by a mere fake Bazhun’an, to choose retreat.

You retreated, leaving me alone, and how am I supposed to fight?

That’s Bazhun’an!

No, that’s not Bazhun’an...

No, if he’s not Bazhun’an, how could he scare those three saints to the point of scurrying away...

"Buzz!"

Fusang vanished, the dream realm returned.

Cheng Caizhi once again returned to the wild and desolate mountains, but this time he was not a mere spectator.

He was not beside that scholar.

He was under the scrutiny of all, bearing the entire pressure that should have been shared by the Four Saints, alone facing the Eighth Sword Deity with each poem a sword, and each sword a song!

"The world hides a Great Buddha, the heart erects a Great Buddha."

"One sword comes from the east, all things go to the west."

As the dazzling Buddhist light shone, the Eighth Sword Deity had already made his choice, beckoning... Qingju!

Heaven is a yard higher than Bazhun’an, who dares wield even half of Qingju?

This time, what he faced was not just half, but the Eighth Sword Deity at his peak, the entire Qingju!

"Great Buddha... Chop!"

When that sword light cut through, Cheng Caizhi’s heart trembled.

He wanted to stand, but his legs were weak;

Tried to resist, but his body was powerless.

In his heart, there was not just one Great Buddha— the Ten High Nobles could be a great mountain, more than half of the saints of the five regions could not match, let alone the frequent opinions of the Holy Emperor and Ancestral God in the past half year.

He watched as the sword light enlarged indefinitely, he himself diminishing infinitely, Bazhun’an enlarging infinitely, he himself diminishing infinitely, the world enlarging infinitely, while he continuously diminished...

He raised his hands high before his face, trying to shield himself from the dazzling golden light shimmering across the sky, a resistance like a child facing the collapsing sky, only to be unable to resist.

"No—"

...

Fusang City.

Pear trees vanished entirely.

Bazhun’an tucked his sleeves as he retrieved the Dual Needles, pinched his fingers together, and casually slashed in mid-air.

"Great Buddha Chop?!"

Lu Shiyu had seen this signature move of Bazhun’an!

Li You was initially sure this man wasn’t Bazhun’an, but now his heart wavered again.

Elder Wuyue stared at the sword, slightly dazed...

The people in the tavern weren’t looking at the saints’ reactions but rather at the lone person still standing in the middle of the battlefield aside from the deserters!

Half-Saint, Cheng Caizhi!

But he wasn’t a brave one.

He seemed unable to run, eyes tightly shut, and after the golden light flashed over Fusang, a phantom Hundred Thousand Mountains formed on his back.

Even though the mountain was just a phantom, it still pressed Cheng Caizhi to the ground.

"Swish!"

Great Buddha Chop, the sword light flashed by.

The phantom Hundred Thousand Mountains on Cheng Caizhi’s back completely shattered.

His whole being seemed to be emptied in an instant, cut into nothingness, and after a violent tremble, the protective spirit bead shattered with a crackle, falling to the ground.

"Dead?"

The tavern spectators jumped in fright.

One sword, beheading the Saint?

"No, not dead yet, just..."

Cheng Caizhi was indeed still alive, but breathing faintly, lying prone on the ground, unable to get up, even frothing at the mouth eventually.

This was harder than death!

A dignified demi-saint, felled to frothing on the ground with one sword?

"He, he really is the Eighth Sword Deity..."

Great Buddha Chop is the hallmark of the Eighth Sword Deity, the celebrated skill from the War of the Ten High Nobles, a brilliance unparalleled.

Everyone’s gaze turned to Bazhun’an on the other side.

That sloppy, unconcerned figure, his expression as serene as crushing an ant, casually bent over to pick up his tattered sack.

He glanced at the people with a slight lift of his lips, quickly suppressed.

He looked back at Cheng Caizhi, who was like an old dog nearing the end, stared for a long time, chuckled lightly, and said:

"With one sword, I cut the gods and Buddhas in your heart, wish you well... Uh."

Suddenly, as if choked by saliva, his gaze drifted to another side, then slightly evasive.

Someone noticed, following the gaze.

And there they saw, Elder Wuyue’s face black as coal, dark as if ink would drip out.

"Cough."

Bazhun’an cleared his throat, gave a skin-deep smile, casually passing by Cheng Caizhi, with one hand at his waist, and casually altered his words:

"To exhaust my name, you still need seven percent strength."

"Gentlemen, let’s encourage each other."