I Am Loaded with Passive Skills

Chapter 3758: Chapter 1818: Arrogance (Part 2)

Half-Saint Cheng Caizhi’s pupils suddenly dilated.

The remnant soul of his grandson flew towards his location, leaving only a few feet between him and Cheng Xie.

A step away, life and death in sight.

"Soul severing."

With a flicker of faint light from Bazhun’an’s fingertips, it pierced through the air before Cheng Caizhi could act, breeching Cheng Xie’s remnant soul’s head.

Thud!

At that moment, the heart-stopping feeling gripped not only Half-Saint Cheng Caizhi but also the spectators around.

Everyone watched as Cheng Caizhi hurriedly reached forward, but all his hands could gather was the disintegrated fragments of his grandson Cheng Xie’s remnant soul.

Crystalline like flowing sand, fragmenting piece by piece.

Through the elbows and wrist, through the fingers, turning into nothingness.

In front of his grandfather, completely killing his grandson...

"How dare you, brat?!"

When the earth-shattering roar erupted in Fusang, everyone realized that the sword immortals’ duel hadn’t arrived, and perhaps Fusang was headed for a different holy battle.

"Damn! Damn! Ah—"

Cheng Caizhi’s eyes nearly burst with rage as he watched his grandson die miserably before him, suffering more than if he had been killed himself.

He could no longer suppress his killing intent, turning to the exceedingly scruffy and image-less Eight-fingered Wastrel on the ground, and incredulously shouted:

"Who are you, really?"

This person was certainly not Bazhun’an; Bazhun’an was on Lingyu Mountain.

Outsiders couldn’t see clearly, but with his Half-Saint’s will, he scanned to see that the source of the sword cognition on Lingyu Mountain couldn’t possibly be anyone other than Bazhun’an.

So, this person must be an impostor!

But how did this impostor dare to provoke the Cheng family?

And how dared he, in front of Half-Saint Cheng Caizhi, shatter his grandson Cheng Xie’s remnant soul with a single finger?

"Who are you, really?!" Cheng Caizhi roared in anger, repeatedly asking this question without understanding the current situation.

Fusang was in turmoil.

Everyone retreated far from the tavern.

Some even withdrew outside the city, fearing that the aftermath of the coming battle could kill all spectators.

But when they looked at the scruffy-looking man on the ground, they saw him stay calm, unmoved under the pressure of the Half-Saint, simply letting out a soft laugh, and slowly said:

"My name is Bazhun’an."

The name rang through the empty Fusang, resonating strongly.

Even Xiao Wanfeng felt a chill down his spine at the sound.

He prided himself as remarkable, but his age truly lacked several decades compared to these ancient monsters. Prompted by Xuan Cang, he too distanced himself from the battlefield.

Bazhun’an raised his eyes, lightly gazing at the mid-air, staring at Cheng Caizhi for a long time, and shook his head with a smile:

"You alone, are not enough."

"I’ll give you Ten Aura’s time, you can call everyone you can, after Ten Aura, I will make my move."

Is this truly not Bazhun’an?

Such an arrogant person, disregarding the Half-Saint, if he were not Bazhun’an, who would dare claim to be Bazhun’an?

An impersonator should gracefully exit at times like these.

Where did this confidence come from, being not enough to defeat a Half-Saint, yet still allowing Cheng Caizhi to call for people?

"Bluffing?" someone gasped in surprise.

Only to be doused by a side comment: "You try bluffing in front of a Half-Saint?!"

Cheng Caizhi was so furious his lungs hurt.

But isn’t human nature lowly, bullying the weak and fearing the strong?

When this fake Bazhun’an dared to stand so firm, Cheng Caizhi for a moment even doubted if his eyes were deceiving him.

Is this actually the real deal, and not an imitation?

He couldn’t afford to gamble, taking out a command token, smashing it with a snap, veins bulging in his temples, pointing below and shouting continuously:

"Ten Aura? Fine, Ten Aura! You wait for me!"

He was afraid!

Everyone marveled in awe.

A dignified Half-Saint truly got intimidated by a single statement.

Should it be said that the Cheng family’s Half-Saint was cowardly, or that the title of Eighth Sword Deity was so strong, anyone bearing it could achieve miraculous effects?

It didn’t take Ten Aura.

Bazhun’an hadn’t even started counting down.

As soon as Cheng Caizhi’s command token shattered, the Nine Heavens’ clouds gathered once more, and several more Half-Saint pressures descended immediately.

"Haha, Brother Cheng, what brings you here for a drink with me?"

"Brother Cheng, this Palace promised you I’d only make a move once, your Cheng family’s Double Needles are still here, don’t waste my Palace’s favor."

"Haha, Cheng Caizhi, is what I asked for ready?"

Three demi-saints!

Black clouds pressed down on the city, and behind Cheng Caizhi, three figures descended.

One was a burly man wielding a spear, another a graceful fairy in white, both young, and the last, a sick old ghost with sores on his face, seemingly the same age as Cheng Caizhi.

"Half-Saint Dai Xiu, Half-Saint Luo Hui, and a Southern Region vagabond, Half-Saint Green Ghost." Dan Saint Lu Shiyu instantly recognized each saint’s identity.

This time there’s truly a good show to watch.

Four saints press the city, a lone battle against Bazhun’an.

This Bazhun’an, exactly what is his worth? Is he feigning strength? False cannot become true, true cannot hide falsehood, time to reveal true form!

Everyone stood outside the arena.

It’s fun to watch the fire from across the river, wishing both sides would start fighting immediately.

Actually, everyone had a hunch, suspecting this burlap sack Bazhun’an wasn’t the real Bazhun’an, but with four saints pressing in, would he continue his barking?

Countless eyes fell upon the dilapidated tavern.

Everyone watched that solitary figure, curious about how he would respond to survive after such excessive provocation.

Perhaps, useful in the future?

The burlap sack Bazhun’an still held his ragged sack with one hand, unsure of what was inside, his body hunched as if oppressed by the four saints’ holy pressure, barely able to breathe.

Just as everyone thought he was about to kneel in surrender, this guy suddenly laughed heartily, gazed up at the overwhelming clouds, and spiritedly recited:

"Black clouds deceive Fusang, the great river reverses west."

"The principle of Tao no longer stands, power arises from minister slaves."

"Wingless defiant bird, sealing the sword in unfathomable body."

"Bow in humble fear? I say heaven is too low!"

After reciting, he straightened his back, his presence surging like a sword emerging from Fusang, soaring a foot high, challenging the four saints with just his aura!

"Hiss..."

The snow in Fusang City was not cold.

But at this moment, the spectators inhaled sharply, truly feeling a chill pierce the heart.

This fellow!

This fellow dared to continue provoking!

Those are the four demi-saints; do you truly think everyone is Lord Shou, that after transformation the shape changes, battle can end the Saint Statue, and confront ancestors with godhood?

"Bow in humble fear? I say heaven is too low..."

Xiao Wanfeng tightly gripped the Cang Godhood Sword, feeling a bit feverish.

Gu Qingsan nudged Second Senior Brother’s arm, exchanged a glance, and saw the fervor flashing in each other’s eyes.

The ancient swordsmen of Fusang were all stirred, muttering this phrase, feeling their bones crack and pores stretch.

Truly, this person impersonates Bazhun’an, but wasn’t the pursuit of such moments and scenes the lifelong wish of ancient swordsmen like us?

At this moment, everyone understood the burlap sack Bazhun’an’s intentions:

For this moment destined to be recorded in history, what harm is there in death?

"He is..."

High above, Half-Saint Dai Xiu listened to this heaven-reaching spirit, looked again at the scruffy man’s sword from Fusang, quickly realizing something.

His expression mixed with shock and suspicion, soon turning pale, he questioned incredulously:

"Brother Cheng, you brought us here to fight the Eighth Sword Deity?"

You might as well have me commit suicide at home!

Cheng Caizhi quickly responded: "Fake, this rogue has some strength, but absolutely isn’t Bazhun’an, otherwise would this saint dare provoke so lightly?"

"Indeed..." Half-Saint Luo Hui frowned slightly.

In that era, which lady didn’t follow Bazhun’an with some attention, some fantasies?

After some thought, she firmly said: "Bazhun’an recited this poem, outside Tiansang City in the Eastern Sky Realm, in the White Cave Eight Palaces..."

"Yes, the same poem... he never recites it a second time..." Voice turns to a whisper.

The sick old ghost, Half-Saint Green Ghost, chuckled, winking and remarked: "Remembering such details, Luo Hui Fairy, quite researched on the Eighth Sword Deity?"

Luo Hui’s face blushed, quickly restored to normal, glanced back at Half-Saint Green Ghost without replying.

Half-Saint Dai Xiu squinted, stared at the eight-fingered, scar-necked scruffy man on the ground, silent for a while.

He had witnessed the War of the Ten High Nobles.

Ever since, trapped in nightmares, unable to shake the pressure of the ten mountains upon his heart, even sanctification couldn’t escape, wishing to erase those memories!

Finally, he bit his lip, having fortified his resolve, grabbed the long spear, and charged forward, shouting:

"Brother Cheng, wait, let me first deal with this fellow!"