I Am Loaded with Passive Skills

Chapter 3939: Chapter 1884: Tethered

In the chaotic and dark spacetime turbulence, the storm sweeps through, silent in its deathly stillness.

Thin as a cicada’s wing, the spatial fracture splits into blades, advancing without order with the "storm," flowing to the next node in time.

Everything is aimless, like clouds, like wind, drifting with the current.

As the jagged edges progress, they collide, cut each other, turning into finer fragments, crystalline, occasionally swallowed by a black hole.

——So it has been since ancient times.

Suddenly, at some moment, in the endless years of stillness and darkness, a faint light emerges in the spacetime turbulence.

"Buzz!"

The sound of a sword’s song resonates, probing from a dimensional crack, quietly fading into nothingness.

Immediately after, a towering building squeezes out of the crack, as if summoned by something.

The high building has jade tiles and flying eaves, with carved beams and painted rafters, surrounded by blue smoke, transforming into auspicious clouds, accompanied by a high-hanging silver moon, casting a clear radiance, lofty and ethereal, as if a thing from the heavens.

If anyone were here, they would recognize this at a glance: the painted sword tower, the Sword Ancestor’s divine palace.

Alas, no one has the fortune to witness it.

In a mere moment, when the high building is placed into the shallow layers of the spacetime turbulence from the dimensional crack, it is instantly touched with a mottled aura of time-worn solemnity.

All that just happened, seems like an illusion, no longer exists.

The jade tiles decay, turning into black tiles.

The beams and columns shrink, developing cracks.

The blue smoke and auspicious clouds are dyed in grayish-brown, falling from sanctity.

The half-crescent silver moon loses its pristine and bright clarity, becoming dim and colorless.

The high building becomes a lonely building, assimilating with the aura of the spacetime turbulence, lonely, silent, utterly lifeless.

Beyond the building’s eaves, twelve iron chains are fastened, unsure of their origins, all exerting force, seemingly attempting to pull the lonely building back to its original place, returning everything to its beginning.

In vain.

The sword tower slowly advances, traveling with the spacetime turbulence storm, yet unlike the storm and jagged edges, it is not aimless.

It traverses repeatedly, squeezing into the dimensional cracks, from the deep layers to the shallow, then to the superficial layers, as if pursuing something, heading towards a definite endpoint.

The sword tower has twelve sides, eleven of which gleam.

Beneath the highest level’s twelve-faced windows, amidst the twilight and decay, sword shadows flicker.

It seems there is something that continuously resists the "erosion," perhaps time, perhaps another force.

The twelve-sided sword tower, twelve silver chains.

Yet there is one among them, like its building face and window sill, dim and unlit.

"Whoosh!"

A spacetime jagged edge sweeps past the sword tower’s force field’s radiation domain, making a noise as it pierces through the air, exceedingly sharp.

It happens to slash the chain fastened on that unlit eave, the chain resounding heavily, breaking under the weight.

Chain links, sword energy, iron debris, disperse and extinguish in the spacetime turbulence, like stones sinking into the sea, without causing ripples.

"Buzzing..."

In the highest level of the sword tower, through the wooden window, using the dim moonlight, sword shadows inside flicker more frequently.

Yet not long after, all returns to calm.

After an interminable period of stillness...

"Clatter!"

The highest level of the sword tower.

The unlit side’s wooden window is suddenly pushed open.

A ghostly, dim face, emerges from within.

Without facial features, it takes a deep breath outwards, emitting a dry, eerie sibilant laugh:

"Sword Ancestor, Sword Ancestor, what recourse is there?"

"Helpless against me..."

...

Thump, thump!

The heartbeat suddenly accelerates, Lei Xi’er’s chest heaving.

The God Devil Eyes rapidly spinning in this instant, emitting a profusion of black and white mist.

"This is..."

She remains at Cross Corner Street.

In a trance, amidst chaos, she glimpses a hint of golden light.

"Buddhist light."

"It’s the inverted pagoda."

Breaking through the chaos, indeed, there stands a golden Buddha Pagoda, inverted at the earth’s depths.

The apex facing downward, what it suppresses, is a black coffin.

"Soul return..."

"Soul return..."

A murmuring sound echoes in the ears, like Buddhist chanting, like a devil’s whisper, disturbing one’s heart.

Thump, thump!

Her heart clenches again.

Lei Xi’er gently holds onto her chest, her brow slightly furrowed, nearly collapsing to the ground.

This time she sees clearly, it’s the coffin board under the tower vibrating, as if a pair of large hands within are pushing upwards, trying to break the sealing from inside.

The inverted pagoda emits a great golden light, and suddenly the disturbance ceases.

After a long while, the black and gold liquid under the tower overflows again, with a faint voice:

"Help me, help me..."

"Any mortal who helps me shall receive a reward..."

Though the voice is soft, its content is all the clearer, yet still dual-faced, indistinguishable between good and evil.

Amidst chaos, Lei Xi’er shows no fear, softly asking:

"Who are you?"

"How should I assist you?"

"And what benefit can I gain?"

The inverted pagoda continues to emit golden light, and the voice ceases to appear.

After a long interval, as the golden light weakens, the coffin board once again drums violently, as if someone inside is pounding forcefully.

"Bang, bang, bang!"

Lei Xi’er’s heart accelerates.

That thing inside still knocks, each strike like a heavy hammer, making one’s head spin.

"How can I assist you?"

Clutching her head, on the verge of splitting pain, Lei Xi’er said, "At least say something, I have wishes, as long as you can fulfill them for me!"

The coffin stops its movements.

After a prolonged silence, a halting voice emerges from within.

"Come..."

"Come to the lower layer of the Floating Tomb..."

...

Wham!

The chaotic vision before her vanishes.

Lei Xi’er’s body drenched in fragrant sweat, her legs weakened as she collapses.

Adjacent, timing just right, a gilded, grayish-brown long stick gently nudges her up, accompanied by a deep, resonant voice:

"Where are the people?"

Startled, Lei Xi’er steadies herself, turns around to look.

Of the surrounding people, nearly all have disappeared.

Whether it was the West Street Master, Thousand-Hand Tailor, preparing to enter the Arena, or the North Street Master, Corpse Man, or those hundreds and thousands who didn’t intend to enter but were there for the spectacle from various streets.