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I Am Loaded with Passive Skills (Web Novel) - Chapter 4036: Eight Ancestors
Chapter 4036: Eight Ancestors
This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl
Whoa!The strong wind started from Lingyu Mountain, entered through the West City Gate, whipped the grass and shook the stones, and tore open a light sword mark on the ground.
Then, thunder rumbled across the flat lands.
Outside the sword pillar array, it stretched for thousands of miles, swirling snowflakes danced in the sky, dazzling people’s eyes.
"This..."
Li You, the sect master of the Yin Ghost Sect, stood in the air above Fusang City, observing the battle from afar.
In a moment, she felt a chilling force brush across her face like some power had pierced through her body, swiftly streaking towards the rear.
She suddenly turned back.
Behind her, that straight sword mark flowed like an electric snake.
From the ground, climbing up the walls and roofs, it split through the low fragmented stone hills, heading straight towards the east.
...
"East!"
In the City of the Living Bodhisattva’s camp, led by Dan Saint Lu Shiyu, the three of them were farther from the battlefield, almost at the eastern gate of Fusang City.
As they sidestepped to give way to the sword mark, the sound of the wind brushing past their ears had already vanished, disappearing in the blink of an eye at the edge of the Ghost Buddha Realm.
The three looked at each other, suddenly realizing something, their spines tingling.
"Qingju, in the east?"
"Yes, it seems to be in the Burial Sword Tomb!"
...
Near the coast of the Central Yuan world.
A fisherman had just hauled up a full net, but from beneath the fishing boat, it felt like some spiritual beast passed by, shaking the boat so violently he couldn’t stand steadily.
Letting go, half of the net of fish fell back into the water instead of onto the boat.
"Ah, my fish!"
"Darn sea beast, dare to mock this old man, the Fisher King of the Central Yuan! One thrust and I’ll skewer you!"
...
East Sea.
Yu Lingdi held the Sea God’s Trident, meditating in the depths of the vast ocean, suddenly opened his eyes as a brilliant Power Upanishad Formation spun under his feet.
"Who?!"
He turned abruptly, instinctively swinging the Sea God’s Trident behind him.
Yet nothing happened; that sudden chill pierced straight through the Sea God’s Trident, through his body, without causing harm, heading directly eastward.
Faint sword intent diffused in the seabed.
"Sword cognition?"
"Xu Xiaoshou?"
"No! Damn it, another nightmare..."
...
Under the Eastern Mountain, the teahouse banner fluttered in the wind.
A group of wanderers dressed as swordsmen sat around a wooden table, intently staring at a bead, pounding their fists and turning red with excitement.
In the image...
Ghost Sword Immortal Hua Changdeng was just convening the sword pillar array.
The Eighth Sword Deity had just glanced over, his right hand rising to grasp towards the east.
"The late sunset beyond the mulberry and elm, returning no more than the sword rises...Qingju!"
The last two words hadn’t settled when the middle of the wooden table already cracked a shallow mark, frightening seven or eight swordsmen to stagger back with a start.
They hadn’t realized what happened.
Among the swordsmen, the only remaining acquired iron sword also lifted into the air by itself, following the sword mark exuberantly towards the east.
"The sword rises..."
They were stunned, suddenly holding their heads and screaming, tossing down a few spirit crystals and dashed toward the east.
"At the Burial Sword Tomb!"
"The Eighth Sword Deity is summoning Qingju!"
...
East of the Eastern Region, Eastern Mountain, Burial Sword Tomb.
Mists surrounded the Burial Sword Tomb, rain or shine, mountains were always visited by pilgrims.
The clamor outside the mountain couldn’t disturb the tranquility within the Sword Washing Pool, and after the myriad swords left the tomb, only one person and one sword remained here.
"Nothing can also be something, something can also be nothing..."
"The Path is to have none, a great dream for a thousand autumns..."
Wen Ting had long since descended from the summit of the Eastern Mountain, holding a half-read scroll of the Sword Sutra, reciting with a shake of his head and squinting eyes.
As he recited, his gaze suddenly dimmed, staring at the opening lines of No Sword Arts, his voice as low as a mosquito’s hum:
"A great dream...a thousand autumns..."
As Wen Ting’s voice lowered, the weeping from the only broken sword yet to leave the Tomb in the Sword Washing Pool became clearer.
Sobbing like a wronged little bride, it kept on weeping.
"Alright, I won’t chant scriptures for you anymore!"
With a long sigh, Wen Ting, holding the scroll, sat cross-legged on a low stone by the Sword Washing Pool regardless of the dirt and mess.
He propped his chin up, staring intently at the broken sword Qingju:
"You really are a stubborn will."
"I’ve recited like this, year after year, yet you still won’t let him go, won’t become mine."
"It seems like doing so would really bring him back to you, haha... ridiculous."
Qingju’s sword body was adorned with sword tears not yet collected; every teardrop crystal clear, reflecting images of the past.
Watching closely, Wen Ting’s expression turned vague with a hint of reminiscence.
"Little crybaby, remember?"
"When you two first entered the Burial Sword Tomb, I even snuck you in without Elder You knowing."
"Just this thing..."
He raised his hand with the Sword Sutra, as if recalling something, shook his head with a bemused smile:
"I too had the courage of a bear and a leopard, dared to let you see."
"And he, Bazhun’an, dared to speak so boldly!"
Flinging the scroll content towards Qingju in resentment, showing him the content.
Wen Ting forcefully pointed to the opening verses of No Sword Arts, reproaching with a spiteful voice:
"A mere miscellaneous cultivator from a side door, barely stepping onto the Path of the Ancient Swordsman with my few pointers."
"Nonetheless just has a better memory, memorized the Sword Sutra after reading it once."
"So what? Yet that guy dared to criticize the Sword Sutra!"
Pointing at the text on the scroll, Wen Ting recited to Qingju one by one:
"You haven’t forgotten, right? ’Nothing can be something, something can be nothing, the Path is to have none, a great dream for a thousand autumns’..."
"He barely reached anywhere, dared to finish reading and say the emotion sword technique ’quite noteworthy’, but the No Sword Arts was particularly flavorful when chanted."
"Flavor? Hahahahaha..."
Wen Ting threw back his head with a laugh, full of displeasure, like he wanted to hit Qingju with a punch:
"Well done, Bazhun’an!"
"Just a few words left me pondering No Sword Arts for thirty years without making sense."
"He even named a ’great dream for a thousand autumns’, crowned the Fantasy Sword Technique’s third realm, that damn guy..."
"Ah, I’m going mad!"
