Chapter 1839: Mad Defiance

Baxun An fell silent, a strange expression on his face, as if subdued by Cheng Xie.

The surroundings were deathly quiet; you could hear a pin drop.

Everyone was anticipating a brutal fight for the Sword Dao Throne, a battle where every strike would draw blood.

They hadn't expected to see Baxun An, known for his extreme arrogance, instead of Xiao Wanfeng. It made the trip worthwhile.

However...

"Why did he suddenly fall silent?" Baxun An's abrupt silence made everyone's hearts pound. Could he be someone who bullied the weak and feared the strong, softening the moment Cheng Xie stood firm?

Yet, it was clear that even if this Baxun An was suspected of being a fake, his thought process was very much like the real Baxun An's. Instead of retreating, he was pondering something peculiar.

"Ten breaths..." The Sack Baxun An looked up again, gazing at Cheng Xie. He opened his mouth to speak but swallowed the words back.

"One sword..." He changed his phrasing, but his gaze at Cheng Xie was filled with disdain. In the end, he said no more.

Mockery! Pure, unadulterated mockery!

Cheng Xie could see through it; this fellow was merely imitating Baxun An, adopting his usual flamboyant mannerisms.

Yet, his expression and gaze somehow conveyed that Cheng Xie couldn't withstand even ten breaths, or block a single sword strike.

Just as Cheng Xie was about to speak, the Baxun An opposite him seemed to have found his own way to provoke, enunciating clearly:

"Last words."

Who could endure that? Cheng Xie raised his sword, his sword intent flaring, and lunged forward. "How dare you insult me, you rascal?!"

The world suddenly slowed.

Cheng Xie saw a headless corpse in familiar clothing, flung before him as if weightless.

Its hands floated aimlessly, feet kicked up, as if its head had been severed by immense force, its lower body spinning and soaring into the air.

Blood splattered, mirroring the snowflakes.

The setting sun cast its light on the faces of those nearby, highlighting their horrified expressions, making them appear even more grotesque.

After a brief moment of shock, Cheng Xie felt intense pain, though he couldn't pinpoint its source.

Perhaps it was his neck, perhaps his brain, or perhaps his lower body, clinging on by a thread...

He finally realized. That familiar headless corpse was his own!

"No—"

"What?" The spectators around the tavern reeled back in terror.

No one saw when the Sack Baxun An made his move; the sword light had already swept through the air, effortlessly severing Cheng Xie's neck.

Its momentum undiminished, it continued to cleave backward, tearing through broken tiles and crumbling eaves, instantly slicing through Fushang's southward street, ultimately ripping through the city wall, and vanishing into the dense forest outside the city.

"This..." Li You, watching from behind, had wide, astonished eyes filled with disbelief.

This time, she had watched intently. She wanted to see how she had been hit earlier.

But Baxun An's move had no warning; no matter how cautious she was, she didn't know when she had stepped into his Illusionary Sword Technique trap, eventually falling deeply into it.

"He's really dead?" Cheng Xie's head and body were separated, and only then did the two needles from his sleeve barely fly out, their combat awareness clearly not on the same level.

After the two needles flew out, they weren't attacking. Instead, Baxun An effortlessly pinched them between his fingers.

Then, with a flick, the two needles hummed like swords. Baxun An then tucked this pair of renowned swords into his sleeve.

"Still the Illusionary Sword Technique?" Li You stared at Cheng Xie's body, which had crashed heavily to the ground, still unable to distinguish illusion from reality.

She was a Half-Saint. Even she couldn't comprehend what had just happened.

The surrounding spectators were even more astonished, their faces filled with bewilderment.

A perfectly fine Cheng Xie... had just agreed to a grand battle... Shouldn't it have been a life-and-death struggle between ancient sword cultivators? How did the fight end the moment it began?

"One move?" It wasn't even a single move, was it? If Baxun An hadn't given him any opportunity, Cheng Xie wouldn't have been able to make even a peep from start to finish?

As Cheng Xie's body and head fell to the ground, a loud thunderclap suddenly echoed across Fushang's sky. Immediately, dark clouds gathered, fierce winds howled, and a Saintly might descended from the heavens, accompanied by an extremely furious roar:

"Who?" "Who dares to murder my grandson, Cheng Xie? I will hunt you down, no matter where you are!"

A Half-Saint! Everyone looked up at the sky.

They saw the high-altitude winds and clouds change color, forming a massive elderly face with wild hair and a furious gaze.

The Half-Saint's face flashed and vanished, and soon, an old man in a green robe appeared in mid-air.

"Cheng Family Half-Saint, Cheng Caizhi!" Dan Saint Lu Shiyu murmured, a strange expression on his face.

This meant Cheng Caizhi had been nearby all along, monitoring Cheng Xie's safety. This made sense, as Cheng Xie had left home with a renowned sword that the Cheng family had protected for decades, perhaps intending to gauge whether the trend of Saint Slaves collecting swords had passed.

Unexpectedly, the Sack Baxun An's attack was so swift that even Cheng Caizhi couldn't react in time, beheading Cheng Xie with a single strike.

"Soul Summoning Art, return, my soul!" Half-Saint Cheng Caizhi stood suspended in the air, forming hand seals, and slammed his palm down. A dark green light shot forth.

The wailing of fierce ghosts echoed in Fushang City. Before long, shimmering soul fragments gathered. Cheng Xie's fragmented soul was collected and pieced together, barely forming a human shape.

"Grandpa Cheng!" Resurrected from death, he screamed in horror, desperately trying to escape the place. He didn't dare to even glance at the Sack Baxun An again, nor did he mention his sleeve-swords. At that moment, his only thought was survival.

"My grandson, come quickly! I, the Saint, am here today; no one can kill you!" Cheng Xie was not skilled in Ghost Sword Arts. If Cheng Caizhi hadn't been monitoring him, his beloved grandson truly would have died here today. But since Cheng Caizhi had arrived, it was time for this absurd battle to conclude...

"Punt." With the sack over one shoulder, Baxun An pointed a finger into the air, his cold voice interrupting everyone's chaotic thoughts.

Half-Saint Cheng Caizhi's pupils suddenly dilated. His grandson's fragmented soul was flying towards him, only a few yards away. One step separated life and death.

"Soul Extinguisher." A faint, ghostly glow blossomed from Baxun An's fingertip. Before Cheng Caizhi could act, a streak of light shot through the air, piercing the head of Cheng Xie's fragmented soul.

At that moment, not only Half-Saint Cheng Caizhi's heart stopped, but so did those of countless onlookers.

Everyone watched as Cheng Caizhi hastily reached forward, but his hands embraced only the shattered fragments of his grandson Cheng Xie's soul.

Shimmering like quicksand, they crumbled into dust. Between his elbows, wrists, and fingers, they dissolved into nothingness.

In front of his grandfather, he had utterly annihilated his grandson...

"How dare you, you scoundrel?!" As that earth-shattering roar exploded in Fushang, everyone realized that the Sword Immortal's decisive battle hadn't arrived, but Fushang might be on the verge of a new Saint War.

"Damn you! Damn you! Ah—" Cheng Caizhi's eyes were bloodshot. Watching his grandson die tragically before him was more agonizing than being killed himself.

Unable to suppress his murderous intent any longer, he turned towards the disheveled, unkempt eight-fingered wretch on the ground and bellowed in disbelief:

"Who exactly are you?"

This person was definitely not Baxun An; the real Baxun An was in Lingyu Mountain. Outsiders couldn't see clearly, but with a sweep of his Half-Saint's divine sense, he knew that apart from Baxun An, no outsider could be at the origin of sword intent in Lingyu Mountain. Therefore, this person must be an impostor!

But how dared an impostor challenge the Cheng family? And how dared he, in front of him, Half-Saint Cheng Caizhi, destroy his grandson Cheng Xie's fragmented soul with a single finger?

"Who exactly are you?!" Cheng Caizhi roared furiously, repeating the question aimlessly, utterly baffled by the current situation.

Fushang was gripped by panic. Everyone retreated far from the tavern. Some even withdrew outside the city, feeling that the aftermath of the coming battle could kill all spectators.

But when they looked at the slovenly man on the ground, they saw him composed and unmoved under the Half-Saint's pressure. He merely chuckled softly and slowly said:

"My name is Baxun An."

Fushang was empty, but this name echoed resonantly.

Even Xiao Wanfeng felt his scalp tingle. He was conceited, but after all, he was decades younger than these old monsters. At Xuan Cang's urging, he immediately moved away from the main battlefield.

The Sack Baxun An glanced up at the sky, stared at Cheng Caizhi for a long time, then shook his head and smiled.

"You're not enough." "I'll give you ten breaths to summon everyone you can. After ten breaths, I will make my move."

If this isn't Baxun An? Such an arrogant individual, showing no regard for a Half-Saint—if he isn't Baxun An, who dares call themselves Baxun An? An impostor should have gracefully retreated by now. Where did this person get the confidence to claim that fighting one Half-Saint wasn't enough and demand Cheng Caizhi summon more?

"Bluffing?" someone whispered in surprise. But a bystander immediately poured cold water on the idea: "You try bluffing in front of a Half-Saint."

Cheng Caizhi was so enraged his lungs ached. But perhaps it's human nature to be vile, to bully the weak and fear the strong? When this fake Baxun An dared to stand so firm, Cheng Caizhi momentarily wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Could this actually be the real deal, not an imitation? He couldn't risk it. He pulled out a token, crushed it with a snap, his veins throbbing at his temples, and repeatedly shouted at the person below: "Ten breaths? Good, ten breaths! You just wait for this Saint!"

He was scared! Everyone marveled. A dignified Half-Saint was genuinely intimidated by a single statement. Should they say that the Cheng family's Half-Saint was spineless, or that the title of Eighth Sword Immortal was so formidable that anyone bearing it could achieve extraordinary results?

It didn't take ten breaths. The Sack Baxun An hadn't even begun counting down. The moment Cheng Caizhi's token shattered, dark clouds gathered again in the heavens, and several more Half-Saint auras immediately descended.

"Haha, Old Brother Cheng, what makes you want to drink with me?" "Brother Cheng, I promised you only one move, and your Cheng family's twin needles are still intact, so don't waste my favor." "Hehehe, Cheng Caizhi, do you have what I want ready?"

Three Half-Saints! Dark clouds pressed down on the city as three figures descended behind Cheng Caizhi. One was a burly man wielding a spear, another a graceful fairy in white, both relatively young. The last was a sickly old ghost with warts on his face, seemingly the same age as Cheng Caizhi.

"Half-Saint Dai Xiu, Half-Saint Luo Hui, and an reclusive master from the Southern Region, Half-Saint Qing Gui." Dan Saint Lu Shiyu recognized the identities of each Saint at a glance.

This time, there was truly a good show to watch. Four Saints pressing down on the city, single-handedly facing Baxun An. How strong was this Baxun An? Was he merely posturing? The fake couldn't be real, and the real couldn't be fake; it was time to reveal his true form!

Everyone stood outside the battlefield. Watching the fire from across the bank was truly interesting; they wished the two sides would start fighting immediately.

In truth, everyone had a scale in their hearts, roughly knowing that this Sack Baxun An was not the real Baxun An. But with four Saints pressing in, would he still dare to continue barking defiantly?

Countless gazes fell upon the dilapidated tavern. Everyone stared at the solitary figure, wanting to see how he would respond after his excessive boasts to narrowly escape death and return to life. Perhaps they could use such a tactic later?

The Sack Baxun An still held his tattered sack with one hand, its contents unknown. His body was slightly hunched, as if the might of the four Saints was pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe.

Just when everyone thought he was about to kneel and beg for mercy, the man suddenly let out a long laugh, gazed up at the dark clouds pressing down on the city, and with high spirits, loudly recited:

"Dark clouds bully Fushang, the great river flows westward against its course.The established order is gone, power bows to servants.A wing-clipped bird unyielding, a sealed sword not yet mortal.Bow in sincere fear? I say the heavens are too low!"

After reciting, he straightened his back, his aura soaring to the sky, like a sword unsheathed from Fushang, reaching a foot into the high heavens. With mere presence, he could actually contend with the four Saints!

"Hiss..." The snow in Fushang City was undeniably cold. But at that moment, the spectators gasped, feeling a true chill deep in their hearts for the first time.

This fellow! This fellow dared to provoke even further! Those were four Half-Saints; did he truly believe everyone could become a revered master, capable of slaying Saints and battling Emperors, defying ancestors and gods after transformation?

"Bow in sincere fear? I say the heavens are too low..." Xiao Wanfeng tightly clutched the Xuancang Divine Sword, his body feeling somewhat hot.

Gu Qingsan bumped his second senior brother's arm. They exchanged glances, each seeing the flashing fervor in the other's eyes.

Ancient sword cultivators throughout Fushang were all deeply stirred, softly repeating the lines, experiencing strange sensations of bones crackling and pores opening.

Although this person was indeed impersonating Baxun An, wasn't this precisely the moment and image that all ancient sword cultivators sought their entire lives?

At this moment, everyone understood the Sack Baxun An's intention: For this moment alone, which would undoubtedly be recorded in history, what did death matter?

"He is..." In the high sky, Half-Saint Dai Xiu, having heard those exceedingly arrogant lines and then seeing the slovenly man on the ground looking like a sword drawn from Fushang, quickly thought of something.

His expression, initially surprised and uncertain, quickly turned pale and bewildered. He questioned in disbelief: "Brother Cheng, you asked us to come here to fight the Eighth Sword Immortal?"

You might as well have told me to commit suicide at home!

Cheng Caizhi quickly responded: "Fake! This fiend might have some strength, but he's definitely not Baxun An. Otherwise, would this Saint provoke him so easily?"

"Indeed..." Half-Saint Luo Hui's delicate brows furrowed slightly. Which woman of that era hadn't harbored some interest, some fantasy, about Baxun An?

After pondering, she stated firmly: "Baxun An recited this poem before, in the Eight White Cave Palaces outside Tiansang City in the Eastern Heaven Realm of the Eastern Region..." "Hmm, the same one... he never recites it a second time..." By the end of her sentence, her voice was barely a whisper.

The sickly old Half-Saint Qing Gui chuckled, winking. "Remembering such details, Fairy Luo Hui, you must have quite a study on the Eighth Sword Immortal, eh?"

Luo Hui's face flushed, then quickly returned to normal. She glared back at Half-Saint Qing Gui without responding.

Half-Saint Dai Xiu narrowed his eyes, staring at the disheveled man with eight fingers and a scar on his neck for a long time, also remaining silent.

He had witnessed the Battle of the Ten Sovereigns. Since then, he had suffered nightmares day and night, the ten towering mountains weighing on his mind, difficult to shake off even after becoming a Saint. He truly wished he could erase that memory!

Finally, with a grimace, Dai Xiu completed his mental preparation. He gripped his long spear, stepped forward, and roared: "Brother Cheng, wait a moment. Let me meet this fellow first!"