I Am Loaded with Passive Skills

Chapter 3764 - 1821: Masterpiece

Damn!

Cheng Caizhi had never felt that Dai Xiu's perfectly good face could have such a repugnant moment.

It came with the perspective of death, forehead behind, chin thrust forward, stubbornly showing even the coarse black hairs from the nostrils.

With a face-to-face killing, there was only a moment of horror.

As Cheng Caizhi's mind fluctuated, he felt the world spinning, realizing something was wrong. Sure enough, in an instant, the environment changed.

"This is..."

There was no doubt that he had entered a deeper world from the first realm of the Fantasy Sword Technique, akin to a dream within a dream.

A terrifying lucid dream!

Cheng Caizhi couldn't find the array eye, so he could only weakly open his eyes and took in the surroundings.

This time, he arrived in a heavy atmosphere of desolate mountain wilderness, sparse vegetation all around, and soil and stones turned yellow with signs of being struck by lightning and cut by sword.

"A battlefield..."

Cheng Caizhi felt a vague familiarity but couldn't recall where he had seen it before.

He gazed into the distance, where some hazy figures stood on the distant mountains; from their realms, it seemed they were just Cutting Path and higher void.

Some even had only the Sovereign Dao Realm level.

Yet all emanated a terrifying aura, imparting extreme oppression.

It felt like anyone could leap forth, crossing levels and killing enemies, threatening demi-saints.

But upon closer look, it was hard to discern the shape and appearance of these figures—such powerful figures were merely backgrounds on this battlefield, not daring to come close to the front lines?

Cheng Caizhi felt even more panicked, vaguely recalling what this was, but not daring to believe.

"Just by you, dare to call Bazhun'an?"

At that moment, a familiar voice came from not far away, by a pile of bald stones, Dai Xiu!

Cheng Caizhi's hand trembled.

This was clearly what Dai Xiu had said before fighting the burlap sack Bazhun'an; how was it replaying here?

He quickly turned to look toward that place.

This look was alarming, yet he hadn't seen the main subject; it frightened him so much that his legs went weak.

First in his sight was a rugged and brawny man with a bare upper body, tiger-backed and bear-waisted, with three heads and six arms, eyes filled with menace, scars covering his body, holding a fainting pale-faced woman in one arm, and firmly pounding the ground with the other, wielding a double-headed gilded, blood-stained Wan Jun Long Stick.

Not far from him, several wine barrels were piled on the ground, among which a stout man sat cross-legged in meditation, wearing a tilted cloak, sweating profusely, surrounded by purple lightning, with a sky-covering Thunder Spirit phantom behind him, Path Principles surging, thunder flashing and rumbling.

Beside these two burly men, there were three other figures whose aura was not weaker than theirs.

One donned a Star Robe, his face bearing a faint smile, his palm upholding a Sinan, with the star dipper on it slowly rotating.

Another wore a sword robe, his forehead bound with blue and white bands, long hair flying, energy like an Immortal, eyes containing sharp light, disdainful of all directions.

The third sported a black shirt, straight as a javelin, waist carrying a large bow, brimming with evil energy, eyes like daylight, divine path patterns floating, Dao Chain rolling forth, buzzing mightily, three-six folds overlapping, shining together, as if an Intent could collapse and unleash infinite power.

This was the left side!

This barely counted as normal humans!

Besides the normally looking two giant men and three extraordinary entities, the right side of the front battlefield was utterly startling!

"Rustle, rustle, rustle..."

The sound of rain fell far away.

Cheng Caizhi trembled as he looked, feeling a chill on his cheeks, not knowing when tears had started flowing.

On the high sky to the right side, half the sky was raining grey-black rain; beneath the rain mist lay old gnarly tree roots, a sky-covering giant tree with branches and beards hanging endless grievous souls, the canopy blooming, presenting an indistinct human face.

Rooted in the void beneath the sorrowful rain old Chinese Scholar Tree, a gigantic golden Lotus Platform bloomed, seated on it a Buddha with magical brilliance, a bit of Red Gold Sand on his brow, eyes closed in compassion, one hand pointing to the sky, halting the rain, the other pointing to the earth, freezing the long river.

The long river?

That illusory long river seemed to flow from ancient spacetime, meandering like dragon and snake, the end of the river positioned just behind Cheng Caizhi!

Cheng Caizhi shivered and turned his head, seeing a figure beside him that was initially nonexistent.

This was a young man with a jade crown, holding an ancient scroll, dressed as a scholar, gentlemanly in appearance, adorned around his neck with six black cords, yet no pendants.

Other people present were imposing, at least wouldn't move rashly.

But when Cheng Caizhi turned to this handsome scholar, the scholar turned his head to him too, lips moving, speaking!

"Friend, you are very anxious..."

Bang!

Cheng Caizhi fell to the ground in a slump.

He pushed against the ground as if seeing ghost, scrambling backward several yards, feeling his mouth dry, throat scorching, his entire vitality and vigor drained.

Anxious?

How could he not be anxious?

This picture! This world-famous painting!

Whenever awakening from night's dreams, it always terrified him, making his heart race, his mind shocked.

Because despite now being sanctified, Cheng Caizhi still knew that anyone in the painting jumping out could smash him single-handedly without any possibility of surprise.

Even though the painting's figures were now in decline, hiding or severed limbs, alcohol-indulged or self-imprisoned, either disappeared or died...

Ignorance is bliss.

Children born nearly thirty years now are fortunate.

They haven't seen the most glorious era; they weren't like that generation of cultivators, like the old generation, either faced upfront abuse or lateral fright.

They hadn't seen the ten lofty mountains at the Path's end, haven't seen the mountain top's Ten Great Evil Ghosts, allowing these children always to hold hope, believing in the possibility of surpassing.