I Am Loaded with Passive Skills - Chapter 2175

Chapter 2050 Chapter 245 Sword Worship

The Dao arrives in dreams, Qing Ju invites from within.

When I wake, the flowers bloom, and when I wield my sword, the shadow of a solitary tower looms.

The supreme sword of the Three Realms, once borne upon Ba Zun An’s path to enlightenment, has transcended countless mystical gates, arriving silently from the distant future of time and space.

“Dream…”

This wasn’t the first time Sheng Xin had personally experienced the Great Dream of Thousand Years.

Unlike Xu Xiaoshou’s sword, Ba Zun An, the founder of the Great Dream of Thousand Years, wields his sword with a more natural flow.

He makes no secret of when this sword will be wielded, how it will transform, or what its ultimate outcome will be.

Nor does he lay beneath the dream a sea of Dao and Consciousness, so that even if the smitten breaks free, they will only fall into the next vortex.

His Great Dream of Thousand Years is simply a pure dream.

This sword, designed to cause death within the dream, seems to have also assured the dreamer of no possibility of ever regaining consciousness.

“You have reached the end of the Path. How can your sword advance any further?”

Saint Xin offered no strength to resist. In truth, the moment he saw the tens of thousands of mysterious gates stretched before him, he had already lost all hope.

Under the “forced control” of his trillion-degree mind, his path was completely cut off. He could hear no sound from the outside world, and he had lost all hope of self-rescue.

At the end of his life, all he could do was to see the end of the Path once more!

“Om…”

A humming sound, like tinnitus, vibrated softly within his cerebral cortex.

The scene before his eyes blurred, and when clarity returned, the starry sky beyond the Holy Divine Continent was gone.

Magnificent, dreamlike petals fluttered in the wind.

This world was utterly illusory, without heaven or earth. Even the very ground beneath his feet was composed of prism-like spatial mirrors, reflecting a faint, multicolored light.

It clearly told the dreamer that this was only a dream, and nothing here could be trusted. To believe in it would lead to death, to perdition.

Saint Xin, however, believed it.

He lowered his head, and through the fragrance before him, he saw countless reflections of himself in the prism.

There was the young me who, at the beginning of his cultivation, awakened his Pearly Eyes.

There was the youth who, through the power of destiny, ascended and comprehended the Five Elements of the Great Dao and the sacred attributes derived from them.

There was the middle-aged me who became intoxicated with power, terrified by the future he glimpsed, and so slaughtered countless races, demanding the death of those who opposed him. There was the me who

, inspired by the sword dragon and the ancestors of the battle of heaven, turned to the path of demons, yearning to reach higher and gain more demonic greed.

There were so many, so many “meta”s, throughout this journey of cultivation, those who had steadfastly stood firm, those who had lost themselves, those who had fallen, those who had forgotten.

“I…”

At that glance, countless dreamlike selves invaded him.

The impact was more profound than the vast calculations of a trillion-fold celestial brain.

Saint Xin raised his head.

He was only a remnant of a path, not even a complete self.

At this moment, trapped in the eternal dream of the sword realm, under the assault of countless selves across the millennia, tears welled up from his eyes.

The scene he saw, shrouded in tears, became even more turbulent.

Saint Xin had completely lost the ability to move, think, or speak. He gazed into the distance, only to see the illusory eight sword-wielding selves behind countless mysterious gates. As his self-lost self grew more and more lost, they grew more solid.

In the end, it was as if his true self had arrived in the dream world. Clearly eight feet tall, they were only shoulder-to-shoulder, soaring high into the clouds. Only then did he realize how insignificant his own self truly was.

“Eight Sword-wielding Selves…”

Saint Xin’s face contorted, and he struggled to speak.

He couldn’t control the emotions now buffeted by the myriad selves. Perhaps he wanted to beg for mercy, perhaps simply to vent, perhaps with resentment, perhaps with anger.

But he couldn’t speak.

All the emotions were stuck in his throat, a painful congestion.

After solidifying their forms, the eight masters across from him didn’t even give him a chance to speak. Their brows held the calm of an eternity.

A single sword swung slantingly, a hundred flowers swirling in a haze.

A thousand-year-old dream shattered, a broken mirror unable to be mended.

“No…”

Saint Xin helplessly gazed at the myriad mysterious gates before him. In an instant, as if summoned, a dazzling burst of sword light erupted.

Behind each gate, a shadowy, backlit black figure condensed, stabbing, poking, slashing, or blocking, taking the form of various sword cultivators.

Millions of sword cultivators, transformed into millions of swords, collectively bowed to the Eight Masters.

With this bow, the sword force soared through the clouds.

A vast sword energy surged around the figure Saint Xin saw, and scenes unfolded amidst the swirling clouds.

That wasn’t the “I” of himself.

It was the “I” of the Eight Masters.

It was as if he were searching for the past celestial realms through the realm of time, seeking enlightenment whenever an opportunity presented itself, fighting anyone he encountered, his conquests unending.

One man, one sword, the initial battles were evenly matched.

Gradually, his realm solidified, and he could defeat his opponents in just a few rounds.

Finally, even picking up a stray branch by the roadside could overwhelm the ancestral gods, forcing them to prostrate themselves. His fierce reputation spread far and wide, and even without the Qingju making a sound, he could already frighten away all challengers.

“This…”

Sheng Xin’s heart sank to the bottom of the valley.

The Eight Lords knew this journey wasn’t simply a search for the celestial realm, but a path of conquest and slaughter.

After such trials, his aura remained undiminished, intensified. Against his current, weakened self, how could he possibly win?

Boom!

All images vanished in a wave of mental shock.

Saint Xin took one last look. Eight Zun An, now imbued with boundless sword power, twisted his hand, grasped half a fallen leaf from his dream, and gently tossed it.

Swoosh!

The yellow blade ripped through space and time, slashing towards him.

A flower, a world. As the pattern of flowers and leaves shimmered, the true form of Eight Zun An’s sword seemed to be projected. They used their bodies as sheaths, holding the sword above their heads. With

one thrust, the sword uncoiled. The

blade unsheathed, its force soaring.

The movement startled the ancestral gods of the passing universe, yet none dared to utter a word. They retreated in fear, and those who could not avoid it were crushed to their knees.

Those who had retreated and bowed before the sword in the eternal universe actually aided its power, intensifying its edge and intensifying its murderous intent until it was completely unstoppable.

A leaf flew by, and a sword was launched.

Wherever it passes, the Taoism prostrates itself, the destiny of heaven bows down, and no one dares to stand higher than this sword leaf.

The only one who faced this sword was Sheng Xin!

There was no escape, no evasion, Sheng Xin completely pinned down!

No—

Sheng Xin wanted to cry out, but he was silenced.

He could only watch death approach, listening to the serene sword utterances from the distant end of the Dao, carried by the sword leaf as it flew. Building momentum through battle, striking into the highest eminence, only to return with a calm demeanor.

“A half-yellow maple leaf overshadows the purple pine; a startled swan’s broken wings cast a shadow over the abyss of fish.”

“Across the nine heavens, ten earths, and three thousand realms, who reigns supreme in the Green Residence?”

…

Worshiping the sword?!

On Heting Mountain, the frail Xu Xiaoshou suddenly jumped up, his face filled with shock.

Undoubtedly, this was the ultimate sword technique described in the “Sword Viewing Classic,” a sword that combined the nine great sword techniques, eighteen sword styles, and three thousand sword arts, transforming all its variations and detours into a single, unwavering attack.

However, it wasn’t exactly as described in the book.

The Eight Venerables were familiar with this single sword technique, far more than a thousand, ten thousand times more powerful.

“Hidden secrets?”

Perhaps not so much, but rather, the Eight Venerables had integrated all their insights from the Realm of Time into this single sword strike.

Naturally, what was now presented was vastly different from the “Sword Worship Technique” that had been merely outlined decades earlier when the “Sword Viewing Code” was first compiled.

But what was undeniable was…

“Wow!”

This single sword strike far surpassed the so-called Mysterious Gates of the Third and Fourth Realms, or even the Upper Mysterious Gates.

The mere act of the sword, opening tens of millions of Mysterious Gates from distant time and space to the present, was beyond the reach of all the ancient sword cultivators of the Holy Divine Continent, past and present.

The Eight Venerables surpassed the Sword Ancestor by more than a single step.

And after enduring the bloody baptism of the Realm of Time, they had surpassed him by countless steps, leaving those who came after them unable to even begin to catch up.

“But, there may be some shortcomings. I’ve memorized this!”

Xu Xiaoshou’s eyes widened as he memorized the Sword Worship Technique.

His experience lacked the training of the Realm of Time. Even if he employed the same Sword Worship Technique, it would likely be inferior to the Eight Venerables.

But he wasn’t afraid.

He was still young.

Whatever the circumstances, the path the Eight Venerables have trodden, I can retrace later.

What the Eight Venerables know, I must learn!

What I know, I must conceal, so the Eight Venerables cannot learn!

Only then can I possibly defeat this secretive villain and defeat him in a head-on battle!

“In fact, even if I were to teach him the Way of Name, the Art of Sword, the Eight Venerables probably wouldn’t be able to learn it. Different fields are like different mountains, so it’s hard to judge.”

With a trembling heart, he looked back at Sheng Xin under the sword technique…

What kind of Sheng Xin was he?

A single yellow maple leaf swept by. The purple pine, which the Eight Venerables had thought was in its prime, was actually already weak inside, reduced to less than one-tenth of its peak strength.

Yet, he was forced to withstand the supreme sword technique, and when the maple leaf sliced through his skull, Sheng Xin couldn’t even resist and was killed on the spot.

The full force of the sword-worshipping technique within the sword leaf exploded, shattering Sheng Xin’s body… or rather, Dao Qiong Cang’s body, into dust and annihilation.

Death!

A death beyond death!

Body, spirit, mind, and self, all four emanations annihilated, echoing the wailing Dao sound across the Holy Divine Continent, heralding Sheng Xin’s utter demise.

A single Origin tablet flew out.

It was the only object not completely shattered by the sword-worshipping technique, yet it wasn’t Sheng Xin’s Origin tablet, but one inscribed with the word “Medicine.”

Not long after, at the site of Sheng Xin’s Dao demise, a radiant light condensed, condensing into another Origin tablet, this time bearing the symbol “Demon.”

“It’s over…”

Xu Xiaoshou gazed at the two Origin tablets, feeling a sense of daze.

After so long, the Demonic Medicine Evil Dao had finally been completely defeated, and the balance of victory had finally tilted in his favor.

It felt like a dream!

It was as if he were still in his past life, bedridden and unable to move.

In a flash, the Tiansang Spiritual Palace vanished into the past. The White Cave, Eastern Heavenly King City, the Yunlun Mountains, the Void Island, the Four Symbols Secret Realm, and the Divine Ruins also whizzed by.

The divine war erupted directly, confronting the various ancestral gods.

Despite the cowardly Eight Zun An fleeing the battlefield, afraid to confront the Demonic Medicine Devil head-on, Xu Xiaoshou single-handedly quelled the chaos and secured victory.

But in the end, it was the Eight Zun An who appeared from nowhere, mastered the sword technique, and slew Sheng Xin, thus ending the divine war.

“Why?”

Xu Xiaoshou awoke, his liver aching with anger. “

Why, Eight Zun An, you cowards, have avoided the battle for so long, only to show up at the end to claim the lives of the enemies?

Are you sick?

Since you’ve been avoiding the battle for so long, why not just wait until the end, then emerge to share in the fruits of victory?

You left at the crucial moment, returned before sharing the fruits of victory, and declared your supremacy with a single, splendid sword strike?

I think that showy old Taoist priest is no match for you, damned old bastard!

“Wait, there’s another showy old Taoist priest…”

The sudden start startled Xu Xiaoshou again. “

He” immediately turned his attention back to himself. A quick and thorough search revealed a “handshake” pattern clinging to his own ocean of consciousness, unconcealed.

“Dao Qiong Cang!” Xu Xiaoshou shouted, making a move to erase the mark.

“Master Shou~~~”

In his mind, a call with many kinds of sorrow and strong pleading came out in time:

“Master Shou, I know I was wrong.”

“But please, please don’t erase this mark.”

“The New Heaven Realm has the method of ascending the Memory Tree. I don’t want it all. I want to give it all to you, Master Shou. I just want to live.”

“Please rest assured, Master Shou, even if I, Dao Qiong Cang, am alive, it is impossible for me to pose any threat to you and the Eight Lords. After all, I have even given up my body. All my backup plans are there, and it will take a long time to recover.”

“I have nothing now. If Master Shou really erases this mark, it will be related to my memory and will be erased from the consciousness of the world. Then I will really ‘fall’. You can gain one more piece of the Origin Tablet, but Master Shou… you, will lose a good friend who truly loves you!”

Xu Xiaoshou fell silent.

His mind flashed back to the scene of him first hearing about the Dao Palace Master at the Tiansang Spiritual Palace, the scene of him first meeting Dao Qiongcang on the Void Island, the scene of him being chased and killed at Qingyuan Mountain, and the scene of him collaborating with the God’s Relics…

Too many!

Dao Qiongcang, this dog, was half friend and half foe, making it hard to tell what he was thinking.

Once upon a time, Xu Xiaoshou had considered him his lifelong enemy, even maintaining a raging golden body, waiting for Dao Qiongcang’s eventual rebellion.

But no!

This fellow had finally run out of tricks, resorting to emotional support.

“Master Shou, I’ll give it to my friend…”

“Master Shou, the divine descent technique is very useful…”

“Master Shou, only if I live can the black memory be recreated, and those in my memory have a chance to be resurrected. If I die, everyone will be gone…”

Pleading voices echoed through his mind.

Dao Qiongcang was weeping, a pitiful sight, completely unafraid. He seemed willing to do anything to stay alive.

“Shut up! Are you threatening me?”

“I dare not, Master Shou. I’m only being realistic…”

Xu Xiaoshou didn’t immediately help Dao Qiongcang revive, but he also didn’t erase the mark from his consciousness outright. He simply remained silent.

He hesitated, unsure of what to do.

Dao Qiongcang was a mastermind, but he had indeed accomplished much.

Xu Xiaoshou could use the Black Memory Trace to resurrect the people of the Xing Realm by seizing the Daoxu Touch and the Dao Words to cultivate his memory, reshaping the Black Memory Trace and recovering everyone in his memory, then resurrecting the world through the Dao of Body, Spirit, and Mind.

But doing so would mean losing Dao Qiongcang.

Dao Qiongcang’s lowly status might be enough, and his memory could be seized, but his computational power was terrifying, far beyond Xu Xiaoshou’s reach.

He couldn’t replicate it, nor did he want to.

No sane person could endure the trillions of information their mind constantly had to process.

Meanwhile, Nuo Zu needed more than just him; he needed more valuable help. With

the Eight Zun An as the sword, Dao Qiongcang as the brain, and himself fishing in murky waters, this was truly the perfect combination.

The only thing that made him hesitant was Dao Qiongcang’s tendency to “go off the rails.” Xu Xiaoshou wasn’t sure he could completely control him, no matter how flattering Dao Qiongcang’s words or how weak he appeared.

“Master Shou.”

Just as he was wavering, at the end of time and space, Ba Zun An, having completed his sword ritual, hadn’t vanished immediately.

He had only temporarily returned, guided by his memories; his true form couldn’t possibly return so quickly.

Now, he was using his memories to channel his will, climbing up into his sea of consciousness and contacting him.

“You’re still there!”

Xu Xiaoshou looked up, gazing at the blurry face of Ba Zun An in the distance. His eyes suddenly lit up.

“Don’t ask me yet. I have a question for you first.”

“Master Shou, please speak.”

Xu Xiaoshou took a deep breath and said solemnly, “Dao Qiongcang, to kill or not?”

Ba Zun An seemed startled at the words, glancing at the site of Saint Xin’s fall not far away. He seemed puzzled, but soon relaxed.

He must have known that since Dao Qiong Cang was involved, it was natural that he couldn’t kill them all, and his choice was naturally without hesitation… to kill them all:

“Kill!”

“If there is a chance, it is best to kill them immediately, without hesitation.” (End of this chapter)