电车之狼系列

Chapter 4170: Middle-aged Man

“Looks like reverence works, we should give it a shot.” The crowd clamored after seeing a successful attempt while feeling awfully jealous.

“If that’s the case, then the brother next to me would have a thousand divine swords by now.” One expert sneered.

Sure enough, the person next to him has been praying the entire time: “Gods and spirits of Sword Burial, bless me with a divine sword…”

He has been doing this the entire time, kowtowing and respectfully tossing swords into the abyss. This did not work for him but he maintained his conviction and showed no sign of giving up.

The expert was right. If reverence and respect worked, numerous cultivators would be playing with their own divine sword right now.

All in all, it was quite lively on this cliff. A few had done reports on this phenomenon before. The starting number of swords thrown into the abyss each opening should be a hundred million or so.

As time passed, the mountains of swords should have been visible. Alas, the black void remained the same, seemingly capable of containing three thousand worlds. This only made people respect it even more. Falling in there meant dying without a burial.

“Come, come, there’s someone extraordinary here!” Someone shouted and told people to run to the other side of the abyss.

“What do you mean?” A listener asked.

“Words can’t describe this, just come before it’s too late!” The person responded and started running.

Those who kept their cool at first wavered after seeing the exodus. One guy wondered: “Can’t be more extraordinary than Li Qiye.”

“From what I’ve heard, he’s even more impressive, let’s go!” One runner who had heard the details shouted.

Just like that, more and more people ran over for the show.

***

This side of the abyss was packed with people. There was no room left to get closer.

“Buzz. Buzz.” Buzz.” Sword hymns happened repeatedly as divine swords flew upward.

Dragon cries, phoenix screeches, tiger roars; starry lights, incinerating flames… the divine swords all had their own visual phenomena.

They were summoned by a middle-aged man whose messy hair draped down on his face, hiding half of it.

His once-black robe has turned gray at this point after being washed too many times. The fabrics shouldn’t last much longer. He appeared poor and lonely like a dog down on its luck. Most would assume that he was from a small sect.

However, he was doing something extraordinary - tossing one scrap metal after another into the abyss.

Other cultivators were tossing cheap swords but ultimately, they were still swords. This man was clearly using broken pieces found in Sword Burial.

The most surprising thing was how effective it was. Every piece of metal earned him a divine sword.

“Clank!” A sword flew up and exuded the might of the sun.

“Incredible, a solar-affinity divine sword!” Cheers could be heard.

“Clank!” Another one incinerated the sky.

“It’s searing the sky!” They shouted again.

“Clank!” One more floated up and numerous beast roars could be heard, frightening the listeners.

Ultimately, the rule for him was one scrap metal meant one divine sword. Others became slack-jawed. They had tried so many things and wasted countless swords only to fail.

Worst of all, he casually tossed the scrap pieces without bothering to look at all. He also didn’t try to catch the divine swords and let them fall back into the abyss.

All of them were incredible and highly coveted. Just possessing one was a dream come true. Alas, he seemed to be bored and was just doing this to kill time.

“What a waste, I can watch no longer.” One ancestor finally lost his patience and leaped forward to grasp one of the blades.

“Nice!” The audience applauded after he gripped the hilt.

However, the sword suddenly became immeasurably heavy. The ancestor lost control and was dragged down to the abyss with it.

“Ahh!” His scream echoed upward as he disappeared from sight.

“There’s no getting up again…” Others instinctively staggered backward away from the edge. They also gave up since they had a similar idea as the old man.

The middle-aged man didn’t care for this at all. He didn’t look at anyone among the crowd, treating them as air.

“Who is he?” This question popped up.

“I don’t know, do you see any clues about his sect?” Spectators wondered.

Unfortunately, there were no marks or symbols on his robe.

“No, I got nothing.” A knowledgeable ancestor gave up after a careful examination.