Immortality Through Array Formations (The Quest for Immortality)

Chapter 882: Super Grade

The Formation Competition was conducted in the style of a major formation examination—three failures and you're out.

That is, each participant would face a series of formation-drawing challenges. If they failed to draw correctly—or couldn't draw at all—on three formations, they would be considered defeated and required to leave the arena.

This rule allowed for a bit of margin for error.

After all, the Dao of Formations was vast and profound, with endless varieties and countless schools of thought. Even the most gifted disciples couldn't guarantee they'd be perfect every time—drawing every formation flawlessly without a single slip.

It would be a shame if a disciple with the strength to draw nineteen-rune formations were eliminated simply because they slipped up or lacked knowledge of a sixteen-rune formation due to lineage limitations.

Though this was a competition, its essence remained a selection.

A selection for true, exceptional formation geniuses.

That's why such "fluke eliminations" were intentionally minimized.

And thus, this three-strike format—which comprehensively tested a disciple's formation knowledge, foundation, drawing ability, spiritual focus, and mental endurance, while still offering leeway—had gradually become the mainstream format for the Formation Competition.

The test began at sixteen-rune formations, progressing one rune at a time.

Each level was a checkpoint, requiring several formations to be drawn.

Each participant had three chances. Fail three times, and you're out.

Rankings would be determined based on the order of elimination.

The one who held out until the end would be crowned the Formation Champion of this year's Dao Conference.

Currently, the first level was the sixteen-rune formation.

A mid-grade second-tier formation—for Mo Hua, this was child's play. His strokes flowed like drifting clouds, and in no time, he had drawn several formations with ease.

After finishing, he swept his gaze across his work, double-checking for any flaws.

Only once he was sure there were zero errors, did he sit back, adjust his posture, and close his eyes to meditate.

Venerable Elder Xun had said—the formation examination was long and grueling, a true test of one's spiritual sense—a battle of endurance.

So, every moment of rest was crucial to replenish one's divine consciousness.

Soon, other disciples in the arena had also completed their formations and begun meditating.

This was, after all, the Formation Competition for the post-Foundation Establishment cultivators of the Qianxue Prefecture—brimming with talent.

What Mo Hua found easy wasn't too hard for most others either.

At this level, most disciples were capable of handling a sixteen-rune formation.

Of course, exceptions existed.

Some disciples were already scratching their heads in frustration; others were pale with regret; a few even sighed, covering their faces.

Some had the divine sense but lacked formation skill—didn't know what was being tested, and what they knew wasn't tested. One failure—and they're out.

Others had formation skill, but insufficient divine sense. The mental drain wore them down, and they made mistakes.

Still others had both, but no nerves. They'd panic the moment the test began.

And under the watchful eyes of thousands, pressure mounted. Some couldn't even display twenty percent of their true ability.

A few strokes in, and their hands started to tremble, minds went blank.

In no time, all three chances were spent—they could only leave the field, defeated and devastated.

Their teachers and elders offstage clutched their heads in despair, sighing and groaning.

Thus, the first sixteen-rune round cleared out a decent batch of participants.

Others had already burned two of their chances and were now hanging by a thread—no more room for error.

Roughly a third of the participants were still unblemished—Mo Hua among them.

A couple of people near him had already been eliminated, yet he still sat there, calm and composed.

This scene was seen by all who knew Mo Hua.

The younger brothers of the Great Void Sect, the senior disciples from the year above, familiar elders, Wenren Wan, and Gu Changhuai—all exhaled in relief.

"Thank goodness… he made it."

They all knew Mo Hua's formation skills were solid.

But this was a high-stakes competition—with all eyes on him, pressure immense, and opponents far older, stronger, and more experienced.

They feared Mo Hua might buckle under pressure and get wiped out in the first round.

"But he didn't. He made it."

"As long as he clears the sixteen-rune test, he'll have some kind of rank. At least it won't be embarrassing."

Many people quietly thought the same.

After the sixteen-rune round, came the seventeen-rune formations.

There was a half-hour break between rounds.

That was more than enough for Mo Hua. His divine sense had already fully recovered in that time.

Then—round two began.

And this time, the difficulty spiked.

Sixteen-rune was mid-grade second-tier. Seventeen-rune meant stepping into the high-grade second-tier.

This was a massive hurdle. For the average Foundation Establishment cultivator, this was the realm of genius.

After all, few formation masters in the entire cultivation world could master high-grade second-tier formations at the Foundation Establishment level.

Unsurprisingly, eliminations surged.

Many furrowed their brows, scratched their heads—confused and helpless.

But formations were like that. No matter how hard you tried, if you didn't know it, you didn't know it. And during an exam, there's no time to sit and ponder.

Eventually, they could only sigh and give up.

Some drew the wrong formation three times and left full of regret, wishing they'd trained harder, drawn more in their spare time.

"So close… I was so close…"

Some collapsed mid-drawing—divine sense completely drained—clutching their heads as they were carried off by examiners for treatment.

The pressure was mounting.

Compared to the sixteen-rune test, this seventeen-rune round was much longer.

Tension thickened in the air. One by one, more disciples crumbled and withdrew from the field.

But Mo Hua remained unfazed—quietly drawing.

Cheng Mo, Situ Jian, Murong Caiyun, Wenren Wan—everyone who knew Mo Hua was clenching their fists, beads of sweat on their backs.

"Go, little senior brother…"

"Mo Hua…"

"Just hang in there…"

Their hearts were pounding for him.

On the other hand, many of the onlookers—disciples with no investment in formations, and no sectmates competing—started getting bored.

"Formations are so boring…"

"What are they even drawing?"

"So depressing, I'm getting goosebumps just watching…"

"Are they really in that much pain? Their faces go pale, and they start holding their heads?"

"Try drawing three formations a day. Just once—you'll know."

"No thanks."

"So dull. How long is this going to last?"

"No idea. Maybe all day…"

"All day?! Poor guys… one brush, one ink slab, and a pile of formation papers for a full day…"

"What do you know."

"I don't care to know…"

Gradually, many of these spectators started to filter out.

Only those who truly understood formations, or those with sectmates or seniors still competing, remained.

Those who understood watched with admiration. Those who cared watched with tension.

Time crept forward.

Inside the Grand Arena, geniuses from every sect bore the crushing pressure as they drew formation after formation—slowly, painfully.

The process was agonizing—and endless.

Some bored spectators left. But others, drawn by curiosity or respect, returned to observe.

Wenren Wan was holding Yu'er close as they both stared unblinking at Mo Hua in the arena.

Just then, a deep yet warm voice spoke:

"Wan'er."

Wenren Wan froze, then looked up—and to her surprise and joy, saw a tall, handsome middle-aged man standing beside her.

"Father!"

This man, with a dignified presence and several powerful elders behind him, was none other than Wenren Jingxuan, her father and the current head of the Wenren Clan.

Yu'er peeked out of her embrace, eyes sparkling as he chirped:

"Grandpa!"

Wenren Jingxuan smiled gently at Yu'er—but in his heart, he too felt a touch of surprise.

Yu'er's gaze was so lively, his spirit far more radiant than before. Yet the brighter he shone, the more uneasy Wenren Jingxuan felt deep down.

On the high platform, Patriarch Shangguan Ce and Patriarch Gu Shouyan also rose and stepped down to greet him with due respect:

"Brother Wenren."

"Brother Shangguan, Brother Gu," Wenren Jingxuan cupped his fists, "I've arrived late—please forgive me."

"You're too kind, Brother Wenren. Please, take a seat."

"After you."

Wenren Jingxuan followed the two of them to the seats of honor.

After some polite small talk, Wenren Jingxuan turned his gaze toward the arena—his eyes sweeping across the disciples furiously drawing formation diagrams.

All of them were attempting the high-grade second-tier seventeen-rune formations.

Even as the head of a great clan, he couldn't help but feel admiration.

"The Qianxue Prefecture truly is the holy land for cultivators seeking knowledge…"

"In most clans and sects, it's rare to find even a handful of disciples who can draw mid-grade second-tier formations at the Foundation Establishment level."

"Yet here in Qianxue Prefecture, such prodigies are enough to fill an entire arena. It's simply… breathtaking."

"The Dao is eternal, the land blessed, and the people brilliant—no wonder its name resounds across the realm."

Shangguan Ce and Gu Shouyan both nodded in agreement.

As heads of great families, they understood even more clearly how precious talent was.

Among all paths of cultivation, the Dao of Formations held critical importance.

If it weren't so, people like them—swamped with duties and responsibilities—wouldn't have taken the time to personally attend the Dao Discourse Tournament just to watch young disciples compete in formations.

Second-grade formations might not seem like much…

But that depends on who is drawing them.

A Golden Core cultivator drawing a second-grade formation is nothing like a Foundation Establishment disciple doing the same.

If someone at the Foundation Establishment stage can draw high-grade second-grade formations, that's a true genius.

And geniuses… mean the future.

The arena was filled with talented disciples—some unknown today, but soon, some of them would surely perfect their formation skills, ascend to the Tianshu Pavilion, and be honored as Formation Masters.

Some might even, one day, attain such profound understanding of the Dao and reach such mastery of formations that they become peerless grandmasters, standing above their era, venerated by all. It wasn't impossible.

If you didn't sow goodwill now, one day you might find yourself looking up at someone you can no longer reach.

After all, this is the cultivation world—heaven's will is ever-changing, and nothing is impossible.

At this time, Wenren Jingxuan and the others sipped tea and chatted casually while scanning the arena, quietly observing and selecting which disciples stood out in the art of formations.

Their attention was naturally focused on a few disciples seated in the most prominent positions in the center of the arena.

These were the top prodigies from the Four Great Sects.

The leading one was a calm and composed young man with sharp features, from the Shen family of the Heavenly Dao Sect.

Another was from the Xiao family of the Heavenly Sword Sect, with striking sword-like brows and a flamboyant air. His formation strokes were as sharp and swift as blades.

Then there was a burly, rugged-looking disciple from the Ao family of the Dragon Cauldron Sect—who didn't look like a formation cultivator at all, but whose formation talent was undeniable.

The last was a quiet and elegant young woman named Duanmu Xue, from the Myriad Skies Sect. She was refined, cool-tempered, and not talkative, but possessed exceptionally deep spiritual sense.

The family heads were already familiar with these individuals.

After all, disciples with exceptional talent in formation arts never stayed hidden for long. They were always the targets of various powers vying for their allegiance.

But forging ties with such talents wasn't easy.

It was a competition of wolves over scarce meat—too many clans with too few top-tier talents to go around.

Even though Wenren and Shangguan were fifth-rank noble families, their chances were not that high.

As for the Gu family, they were even worse off.

Gu Shouyan was just here to observe. Talents of this caliber, born into the Four Great Sects, had nothing to do with his Gu clan, which was stuck at the threshold of fourth-rank, with minimal influence and weak connections.

Outside the Four Great Sects, there were a few other talented disciples…

But compared to the absolute elites, they still came off as second-rate.

Still, even second-tier geniuses were not to be underestimated.

Wenren Jingxuan and Shangguan Ce mentally noted a few promising names, planning to send them gifts afterward—to sow goodwill and build relationships early.

Both were Nascent Soul cultivators with powerful divine sense. Just a few sweeps across the arena gave them a good picture.

Meanwhile, the seventeenth-pattern test continued and wasn't ending anytime soon.

The family heads began relaxing a bit more, sipping tea and engaging in idle chatter.

Wenren Jingxuan's gaze swept toward the edge of the high platform, where his daughter Wenren Wan sat quietly with Yuer. They seemed distant from the rest of the Shangguan clan.

This made his heart sink.

That daughter of his—he had raised her like a pearl in the palm of his hand.

But after marrying into the Shangguan family, it was clear she hadn't had an easy time.

Wenren Jingxuan's eyes narrowed slightly. He said in a calm but deliberate tone:

"Brother Shangguan, since my daughter married into your clan, has she caused any trouble?"

Shangguan Ce responded mildly, "Wan'er is gentle and well-mannered. She's never caused trouble."

But before he finished, a soft laugh rang out.

It came from a green-robed female elder of the Shen family.

Wenren Jingxuan frowned.

Before he could say anything, an Elder of the Shangguan clan—also a Nascent Soul cultivator—spoke sternly to the woman:

"When the family head is speaking, you are not to interrupt."

This elder was Shangguan Wang, a senior with deep lines on his face and real power in the clan. He had even once contended with Shangguan Ce for the position of family head.

Even though he lost, his faction remained strong.

This rebuke sounded like discipline, but the hidden message was clear: "Know your place. Speak later."

The green-robed elder murmured, "Yes…"

Wenren Jingxuan arched an eyebrow. Of course he could tell something was amiss.

"Elder Wang, did my daughter do something wrong?"

Shangguan Wang hesitated, then said, "If you're asking whether she committed any great crime, the answer is no. But… the young madam is indeed too willful in some matters."

"As the daughter-in-law of the Shangguan family, she spends most of her time in the Gu household, and has been overly indulgent with the young master Yuer. She even had the boy raised in the Great Void Sect—one must wonder what her intentions are."

"She also mismanaged some of the family's businesses, causing many bad debts."

"And she has privately embezzled quite a few spirit stones."

"Her conduct lacks stability, and she hasn't fulfilled her duties as a wife to Young Master Yi…"

He then listed all of Wenren Wan's alleged faults—some with truth, most exaggerated or entirely twisted.

Business fluctuations and spirit stone delays—normal occurrences in any large family—were rebranded as serious misdeeds.

Minor disagreements between husband and wife were turned into juicy gossip.

Others in the Shangguan clan, especially those aligned with Shangguan Wang, chimed in in agreement.

Wenren Wan was left speechless, face pale with anger and shame.

Wenren Jingxuan's frown deepened.

"These are not the most serious issues…" Shangguan Wang added calmly, his gaze sharpening. "The most outrageous act was a few years ago—when she misled Young Master Yi into using numerous family connections to forcibly insert a completely unrelated disciple into one of the Eight Great Sects."

"Those favors belonged to the Shangguan clan. But the person who benefited wasn't from the Shangguan family, the Wenren family, or even the Gu family."

"That… is simply too much."

The Eight Great Sects were extraordinarily prestigious.

Getting Mo Hua into the Great Void Sect had cost Wenren Wan far more than Mo Hua ever realized.

More than that, Mo Hua's talent hadn't originally met the entry requirements—so even more favors had to be spent to smooth it over.

Had those resources been used elsewhere, they could have placed two or even three promising Shangguan disciples into top sects.

Now? That door was shut.

Those opportunities—once-in-a-lifetime ones—were handed off to someone unrelated.

This incident had offended many within the Shangguan clan behind the scenes.

Since then, Wenren Wan's position had only worsened.

Wenren Jingxuan had heard vague rumors, but the full picture had eluded him.

After all, as the family head, he had many matters to attend to.

And since his daughter had married into the Shangguan clan—whose ties with the Wenren family were always lukewarm—he hadn't felt it appropriate to intervene.

Now he turned to Wenren Wan, asking in a low voice, "Wan'er, is this true?"

"…Yes." Wenren Wan bit her lip, keeping her head down. Still, she mustered her resolve and said, "Mo Hua… saved Yuer. That's why I…"

Mo Hua?

Wenren Jingxuan was briefly stunned. That must be the disciple she forced into the Great Void Sect…

On the other side, Shangguan Wang coldly asked:

"How could a mere Foundation Establishment cultivator rescue Young Master Yuer—when even the Gu clan and the Dao Court Division failed?"

Wenren Wan was momentarily at a loss. "It… it was a lucky coincidence…"

"A coincidence?" Shangguan Wang's tone turned icy. "Miss Wan, do you truly believe that?"

Wenren Wan was unable to respond. Because she truly didn't know.

She had always been tolerant toward Mo Hua's affairs and never questioned them too closely.

Shangguan Wang let out a sigh and said with disappointment, "Do you know what people outside are saying?"

"They say that the Shangguan clan's legitimate young madam picked up some 'wild child' from who knows where, then treated him like her own—and even at all costs, forced him into one of the Eight Great Sects…"

This suspicion was malicious beyond measure.

Wenren Wan's face turned deathly pale, then flushed blood red.

At that moment, Gu Changhuai could no longer hold back. He slammed the table and stood up, shouting at Shangguan Wang: "That's bullshit!"

Shangguan Wang's eyes instantly turned icy cold.

Gu Shouyan immediately barked, "Changhuai, mind your manners!"

"Patriarch…"

Gu Changhuai still wanted to speak, but seeing Gu Shouyan slightly shake his head, he could only swallow his words.

Yet he couldn't bear seeing his cousin suffer such injustice, so he cupped his hands toward Wenren Jingxuan and said:

"Regarding Yuer's case, I was the one investigating at the time. While some things were coincidence, it's true that Mo Hua saved him."

"And the reason my cousin sent Mo Hua to the Great Void Sect wasn't just to repay him—it was also because Mo Hua has incredible talent in formations…"

Shangguan Wang asked coldly, "How incredible?"

Gu Changhuai said, "The Great Void Sect's ancestor personally taught him formation arts…"

Shangguan Wang sneered, "Don't play me for a fool. The Great Void Sect's ancestor is highly respected and upholds sect teachings. Most new disciples are personally taught formations by him."

Gu Changhuai froze and fell silent.

Shangguan Wang continued mockingly, "Besides, formation talent isn't proven with words—it's proven in competition." He pointed downward. "The ones in that arena are the truly talented. Can you guarantee this 'Mo Hua' will even qualify for the Formation Discourse Tournament three years from now?"

Gu Changhuai blinked, then let out a cold breath and pointed down as well:

"No need to wait three years… he's already competing this year!"

Everyone followed his gaze and indeed saw, in a corner of the arena, a young and handsome disciple seriously drawing a formation.

A wave of astonishment swept through the crowd.

Some had already heard of this, but most from the Shangguan clan, Wenren clan, and even some Gu cultivators hadn't. And even if they had, they wouldn't have dared believe it.

"Foundation Establishment mid-stage… already participating in the Formation Discourse Tournament?"

"This kid's talent is that strong?"

"Must be because the ancestor backed him—how else would he get a spot…"

"Even if so, it's still impressive…"

Even Wenren Jingxuan looked surprised. His gaze lingered on Mo Hua, eyes narrowing slightly.

Shangguan Wang's heart skipped a beat.

He immediately realized—he had miscalculated.

He'd handed the knife over… and stabbed himself.

He never imagined someone at Foundation Establishment mid-stage would actually be competing in the Discourse Tournament. Ridiculous!

But he was a man of age and experience, seasoned in the art of political scheming. His expression didn't change. He simply sneered:

"Even if his formation talent is good—so what? He's being forced to grow too fast. If he manages to barely finish a seventeen-pattern formation, that would already be a stroke of luck."

"And besides, that's not the point."

"Even if he's talented, is his surname Shangguan? Wenren? Gu?"

"None of the above! No one knows where this boy came from."

"There are countless geniuses—why did the young madam go all-out just for this one kid, to force him into the Eight Great Sects?"

"Fine, say it's to repay a debt. I might believe that. But would others believe it?"

"Can that explanation silence the rumors? Stop the gossip? Protect the Shangguan clan's reputation?"

Shangguan Wang scanned the room, then spoke even more bluntly:

"Some clans are even spreading… that the young madam of the Shangguan clan bore an illegitimate child before marriage…"

Boom!

Wenren Jingxuan slammed the table into splinters, his gaze cold as ice.

"Elder Wang. Watch your words."

But Shangguan Wang—once a contender for the patriarchal seat—still held ambition. He didn't flinch. Instead, he feigned a sorrowful tone:

"I agree, this rumor sullies our clan's name. It's unpleasant to hear… but people have mouths, and I can't seal them."

Wenren Jingxuan shot a cold look at Shangguan Ce.

Shangguan Ce finally spoke slowly:

"Enough. The pure remain pure, the filthy remain filthy. Let's not speak of this again."

Gu Shouyan added, "We're here to observe the Formation Discourse Tournament, not gossip."

Wenren Jingxuan said nothing, but his face was dark.

Shangguan Wang knew when to retreat. He let it go—for now.

Though it hadn't gone exactly as planned, he'd still achieved his goal.

He'd smeared the patriarch's daughter-in-law and planted a seed of suspicion between Shangguan Ce and Wenren Jingxuan.

The only one left suffering in silence was Wenren Wan—her face pale as a ghost, clutching Yuer tightly, her expression bleak and lips sealed.

Yuer wanted to comfort his mother, but after wiping his tears, he didn't know what to say.

Gu Changhuai's heart ached, but there was nothing he could do.

The noble clans schemed and played their games…

But in the arena, the seventeen-pattern competition was approaching its end.

Mo Hua put down his brush, checked his work a few times, then began meditating to restore his spiritual sense.

Around him, many disciples had already failed and exited.

Half an hour later, the round concluded.

The seventeen-pattern trial ended.

Several examiners entered the arena to review the formations and judge their success or failure.

Those who failed to finish, drew incorrectly, or made errors without realizing it were promptly pointed out and removed from the field.

Some disciples who failed refused to leave.

So the examiners ordered others to drag them off.

As a result, the number of eliminated contestants increased further.

Before long, an examiner arrived at Mo Hua's position.

Seeing his young age and low cultivation, and still sitting there pretending to meditate, the examiner assumed he had failed and was simply stalling.

That was—until he looked down and saw the formation in front of Mo Hua.

A flawless piece of work. Every stroke perfect. Practically immaculate.

The examiner rubbed his eyes, frowned, and carefully re-checked everything.

No issue with the handwriting. No issue with the exam question. No issue with the formation itself.

After confirming it multiple times, the examiner could only shake his head in amazement.

"This kid… drew it beautifully…"

"Passed."

He stamped the page with approval, indicating Mo Hua had advanced, then continued on.

But after a few steps, he suddenly froze.

"Wait…"

Something was off…

The examiner's frown deepened, thoughts spiraling in confusion. He retraced his mental steps.

"A seventeen-pattern formation?"

"Foundation Establishment mid-stage… drew a seventeen-pattern formation?"

"Seventeen-pattern…"

Seventeen patterns. That was…

His eyes widened in shock.

That was a formation only Foundation late-stage disciples could draw!

Which meant…

This kid's spiritual sense had already surpassed his cultivation realm?!

Surpassed the tier…

Unless you're a formation cultivator, you wouldn't understand what that truly meant.

The examiner stood frozen for several breaths. His scalp tingled. A chill crept up his spine. His entire body trembled uncontrollably.

"Shit… I blinked… and a monster slipped through…"

(End of this Chapter)