Chapter 3326: Chapter 1668: All Parties Lend an Ear to this Intent Path, A Challenge Across Domains Delivered to the Sacred Mountain_2

To put it nicely, he is now Unpredictable; to put it not so nicely, this is being extremely cautious and meticulous.

Why?

Because of powerlessness.

Hallmaster Dao Qiongcang turned his head, looking towards the first viewing platform. The magnified image showed a young and vibrant handsome face, still talking eloquently, a face that belonged to Xu Xiaoshou.

Setting aside everything else, this time, he hoped Xu Xiaoshou would win!

…

“Brother, look!”

In the Southern Region as well, but at a spiritual array transit to the Central Region, the Storyteller tiptoed and pointed at something in the distance.

There stood a Dao Imparting Mirror.

The image in the mirror was magnified, showing a familiar handsome face smiling charmingly, eagerly saying something, with lips now round, now flat–the content of his speech not clear.

“Cute~”

The storyteller’s eyes crinkled with amusement, clutching her wrist, hands folded across her chest, biting her slender jade-like finger, she looked sideways, completely content.

Xu Xiaoshou, has grown up.

He has learned on his own, even learned to “tell stories.”

In front of the Dao Imparting Mirror, below what seemed to be one of the many viewing platforms, the audience were either whispering, silent, indignant, or resigned…

Emotions fluctuated with the storytelling.

The will transformed with the narration.

Ning Honghong tilted her head and the smile on her face deepened, as if she saw her former self.

“Are you calling me?”

Bazhun’an weakly responded, as if he too heard his own name.

He wasn’t sure, after all, it was too far away, dozens of yards!

He could hear Xu Xiaoshou’s voice and barely make out that face, a person in his middle age, with keen hearing and vision.

But it isn’t important.

He knew exactly what Xu Xiaoshou wanted to do.

“Is it starting…”

Turning away, Bazhun’an murmured softly, no longer paying attention to the Dao Imparting Mirror, and walked directly towards the queue for the spiritual array.

Some people noticed the commotion here, nudged their companion beside them, and snickered:

“Look, he kinda looks like your Bazhun’an.”

“Nonsense, the Eighth Sword Deity can cross the Southern Underworld, with ten thousand swords flashing–he doesn’t need a teleportation portal, whoosh and he’s there, okay!”

“But he really does resemble Bazhun’an in the portrait in your room, just older and with grayer hair… uh, he looks like a Hungry Ghost tired of the flesh, all drained.”

“Stop it, he’s walking over, you’re really impolite!”

Bazhun’an lifted his eyes, glanced at the long queue, waved to the storyteller, and silently walked to the end to queue up.

The closer one gets to the twilight of life, the blurrier the sights and sounds become.

Insignificant things don’t catch his ears or eyes, they just drift away with the wind.

In contrast, the unity with nature, the Dao, and Sensing becomes incomparably close.

Sky, human, without distinguishing each other, there is then no concept of “becoming one.”

Although Bazhun’an’s vision was cloudy, he could see the spatial waves, the surges of the Will Path. Without speaking, he could sense the chorus of all herbs and the dance of the sea breeze.

The deaf excel in music, the blind in envisioning Wuji.

It is the Six Senses that limit the human body and set rules, and when these are thoroughly abandoned…

The world begins to be boundlessly imaginative!

Having aged with his Hidden Sword, Bazhun’an could no longer feel a trace of spiritual energy from his body, even his vitality seemed depleted.

The only thing he could sense was the sword energy in his body.

“This body shackles his sword energy…”

Through this, Bazhun’an cultivated the Indestructible Sword Body, originally thinking it was the foundation for defying the limits of natural talent.

He realized it was still a limitation.

The heavens, the earth, the rivers, and mountains are like my skin, and as a sword.

Now, Bazhun’an thinks from the perspective of the sword, regardless of whether the sword energy issues from him, or whether it is I:

“I am surging, I am blazing. When I draw my sword and enter the rivers and mountains, all that’s left is tearing this Indestructible Body that shackles me.”

Sealing his sword until he’s old, the old self becomes a Saint.

Sealing myself until I’m old…

…

Burial Sword Tomb.

On a whim, Wen Ting, patrolling the mountain, turned lead into gold, and saw Xu Xiaoshou in the Dao Imparting Mirror, surrounded by worshippers.

He stopped and stood, listened for a while, then gazed towards the Eastern Mountain.

The Eastern Mountain as a sword, the Sword Hemp as an edge.

Wen Ting’s eyes showed nostalgia, and he reached out his hand toward the tiny Burial Sword Tomb and sighed:

“Well said.”

…

Fringe Moon Immortal City.

Xiao Kongtong, holding the Kongtong Formless Sword, carrying a large burlap sack, hastily passed the Dao Imparting Mirror, bloodstained.

Seeing the cheerful Xu Xiaoshou in the mirror, he couldn’t help but grin, baring his teeth with a smile.

“Boom!”

The void trembled with thunder.

A near miss from the saint calamity.

Xiao Kongtong tensed, quickly regained control of himself, and rushed back to the battlefield.

Transcending the tribulation is not an option, he hasn’t yet taken the title of the Seven Sword Deity, hasn’t yet fulfilled his teacher’s unaccomplished dream; how can he prematurely become a sword saint?

The Sword Master kills, validating the path with killing.

For months, Xiao Kongtong has been putting into practice the ideals that he’s fantasized about for thirty years.

He finally understands why his teacher left behind so many legendary battles and numerous unrestrained Sword Songs.

Killing ensures that there will always be moments that trigger inspiration.

“Xu Xiaoshou, are you also about to validate your path?”

…

Qingyuan Mountain, Changde Town.

Kui Leihan leaned against a column with crossed arms, watching the mirror brought by two villagers, observing Xu Xiaoshou holding forth on it.

He reached out his hand, touched the Dao.

Crackle!

Purple lightning swayed slightly.

The iron collar of the weapon prohibition order lifted gently.

Kui Leihan lowered his hand, shook his head slightly; he searched but couldn’t find anyone.

“Where is Erzhu?”

…

Tiansang Spirit Palace, thatched cottage.

Ye Xiaotian floated alone beside the wooden table, expressionless as he watched the Dao Imparting Mirror in the Eighth Palace.

In front of him were four pairs of chopsticks, but the roast goose on the table was gone.

The old man had disappeared in his fun, Qiao Qianzhi’s strange sanctification seemed to have halted as well, and Xiao Qixiu, after many years, finally returned to pursue his dream…

In the end, being alone is eternal.

“Ma Ma…”