Fusang's snow was light, nowhere near as fierce as the snowfall over Yujing.
The spectators around the tavern had originally been waiting for a spectacular holy war.
Yet after Cheng Caizhi and the four Saints howled a few times, all four figures abruptly froze in midair.
Anyone unaware of the truth might have thought the four Saints had suddenly lost their will to fight.
Those with sharper eyes immediately turned their gazes toward Ba Zunan, discovering that at some point, he had set the sack on the ground and tucked both hands into his sleeves.
"Everyone, help me count down from ten," he suddenly said, turning toward the spectators beyond the field with a radiant smile.
"Ba Zunan has already drawn his sword..."
Someone stared at him, fear welling in their heart.
Without question, the first thing the four Saints had fallen victim to was this "Eighth Sword Immortal's" Illusion Sword Technique.
Whether his identity was genuine still remained open to question.
But with this silent first sword alone, he had controlled four Saints. That was simply too astonishing.
"At the very least, one would need to be of the older generation of Sword Immortals to achieve something like this, right?"
As they pondered and guessed at the intentions of this sack-carrying Ba Zunan, the troublemakers outside the field began counting for him. "Ten!"
Though they did not know what he intended, they had a feeling he could not truly be planning to face four Saints alone and slay them all, could he? "Nine!"
After the first voice rang out, others followed.
"Eight!"
The spectators' enthusiasm was quickly stirred, and voices rose one after another.
"Seven..."
They counted quickly.
Even the snow over Fusang seemed to begin falling faster.
When they reached "five," Ba Zunan took a step forward, sword