I Am Loaded with Passive Skills - Chapter 3192

Chapter 3192: Chapter 1625: Meeting Wen Ting beneath the Sword Washing Pool, Smelling the Sword to Seek Address in the Starry Sky

Burial Sword Tomb.

The sprawling mountain range enveloped this mystical place that has been handed down since ancient times, and the persistent mist added an aura of taboo to this land.

Everyone knows that there is a forbidden mountain in the Eastern Region, called “Eastern Mountain,” which, when it comes to antiquity, may even outdate the Sacred Mountain Gui Zhe.

Atop the Eastern Mountain grow the Ancestral Trees Sword Hemp, also known as “Eastern Mountain Sisal,” yet despite its fame, few have ever glimpsed its true form.

The Burial Sword Tomb lies nestled in the belly of the Eastern Mountain.

It is one of the Seven Breaks, mastering the Sharp edge of the “sword,” and should be renowned throughout the five regions.

...

In reality, this mountain shares the same nature as the Burial Sword Tomb, deeply versed in the way of “Hidden.”

Never displaying its prominence, never revealing its depths.

Near the Burial Sword Tomb, worshippers arrive in an endless stream throughout the year.

However, each can only trek back and forth around the outer peripheries of the Eastern Mountain Range, exhausting their energy beneath the mists, only to return fruitlessly.

Apart from those who have successfully pledged allegiance to the mountain gate of the Burial Sword Tomb, outsiders are not privy to the true inner appearance of the mountain, what sort of form it actually takes.

But how many people has a generation of the Burial Sword Tomb actually taken in?

Countable on one’s fingers!

A lack of fame does not mean that the luck of the Eastern Mountain and the Burial Sword Tomb will decline day by day.

All rivers in the east converge here.

In fact, in the entire Holy Sword Land of the Eastern Region, except for the Fringe Moon Immortal City which has risen rapidly in the past few decades and strongly plundered a portion of the Way of the Sword’s luck,

The luck of the Way of the Sword from all other places and lineages, no matter how vigorously they develop in the middle, will eventually converge at the Eastern Mountain and at the Burial Sword Tomb in the easternmost lands.

What use is luck?

Luck does not have a specific and fixed function, but if hard-pressed to explain, it can only manifest in this way:

The previous tomb keeper of the Burial Sword Tomb, known as You Tu!

The current tomb keeper, Wen Ting!

…

Swoosh!

A streak of red light soared over the bustling market at the foot of the mountain, past the sweaty climbers, and proudly broke into the mists.

“Look, who is that? Seems like wearing a skirt? I peek, I peek…”

“Intruding into the forbidden grounds of the Burial Sword Tomb, is she not inviting death quickly enough?”

“Worshippers can only climb on foot; this is the unwritten rule of the Burial Sword Tomb. Only those who meet the standards of courage, perseverance, and wisdom may catch the eye of the Seventh Sword Immortal… oh, except for Gu Qingfour.”

“Flying like this, she’ll only trigger the Prohibition, who can withstand the resentment Attack from the Burial Sword Tomb’s ten thousand famed swords?”

“The Eighth Sword Immortal.”

“Nonsense! Ptui ptui ptui, gentlemen, don’t look at me like that, I mean, only the Eighth Sword Immortal could, anyone else not bearing the surnames Wen or Gu would surely be shattered to pieces!”

“She’s not one of the four siblings of the Gu family, she’s plainly a Spiritual Cultivator, without even Innate Sword Intent.”

“Then she’s doomed to die!”

“Disrespectful youngsters, not knowing reverence, deserving of death!”

“Eh, disrespectful young woman!”

The Storyteller, with spiritual senses, heard the jealousy and Cursed of the climbers, smiled knowingly, and pulled out the command token, passing unimpeded.

Seriously, traversing mountains on foot? We have different statuses.

You all climb mountains, but in the end, the person you wish to pay homage to is still my big brother!

And my big brother, from a very young age, had already taken the initiative to pledge brotherhood with others.

If you really count, the three brothers of the Gu family… oh, now it’s four siblings, must call that person “Master’s Brother”!

“Although that person does not know the Ancient Sword Technique…”

The Storyteller, with fingers delicately raised, pinched the Sword Burying Order, navigated through the outer mountain’s mists, twisted along the inner mountain’s bends, and adeptly moved through various Prohibitions and sword lights, quickly unscathed out of the sword formation.

The scene before their eyes changed.

Surrounded by mountains on all four sides, there was a concave valley in the middle, opening from the south and north towards the east, facing the distant East Sea, like a giant tomb on earth.

A genuine tomb it was.

Yet what was buried within were not humans, but countless spiritual and famed swords from dynasties past.

Above the burial ground lingered year-round remnants of resentment and a longing for new life, a tangible reality of the swords’ emotion, full of contradiction.

The Storyteller dared not to look too much.

One more glimpse at this thing might ruin the eyes.

But ancient swordsman could observe it and cultivate sword cognition, and Bazhun’an’s sword cognition was greatly achieved right here.

Raising their eyes upward…

The mountain, too high to see its peak!

If one stood at the distant East Sea and looked back, and if their vision could penetrate the fog, they would see this unseen by the people Eastern Mountain, like a greatsword aiming to pierce the heavens.

This sword is Eastern Mountain; its hilt buried within the earth, its Sword Scabbard raising the Burial Sword Tomb, with its steep sword body piercing into the clouds of the Nine Heavens, truly magnificent.

“Above the tip of the Eastern Mountain is the Sword Hemp…”

“Speaking of which, both my big brother and second brother can go up there, and I’m already halfway through my life, it’s harder for me to climb up to take a glance at the Sword Hemp than to reach the heavens, what a pity to waste such family connections…”

The Storyteller shook his head slightly with a sigh, no longer reminiscing, picked up the skirt, and rushed into the grand burial ground.

…

“Brother~ Brother~”

“Brother~ Brother~”

Like a chicken crowing, from south to north, from west to east, the Storyteller finally heard the fluctuating tones of an opera near the Sword Washing Pool.

Singing “Ah Niu Embroidery,” a song about a twisting and moving, tragic-ending ancient love story between Ah Niu and the Embroidery Maid.

The Storyteller could not help but stop, lost in a few lines of the song before coming back to reality, used the command token to open the stone door, and vexedly propped against the doorway:

“Are you deaf, can’t hear me calling for you?”

“Ah Lang~ Ah Lang~ where art thou…”

“Hey!”

“Embroidery Maid~ Embroidery Maid~ I am Bazhun’an! Across the water~ across the water~~~”

The Storyteller’s toes flicked.

A pebble, with precision, flew across and plopped against Wen Ting’s buttocks, blood spurting out immediately.

“What are you doing!”

Wen Ting gathered up his water sleeves, covering his blood-stained behind, turning his head to glare in anger.

His face was painted with full makeup, half male, half female, single-handedly playing two roles, clearly in the midst of enjoyment.