Immortality Through Array Formations (The Quest for Immortality)

Chapter 904 – There's a Traitor Inside

Mo Hua's expression was filled with excitement, his eyes gleaming with a dazzling brilliance.

This… was the true Thunder-Magnetic world!

A vast ocean of Primordial Magnetism, constructed in accordance with the laws of Thunder-Magnetism.

In this magnetic sea, all kinds of cultivators, bizarre fragments of consciousness, and countless streams of information converged—transmitted and interwoven via thunder currents. It was wondrous. Profound. Miraculous.

Though invisible to the naked eye, Mo Hua could perceive all of it through his Thunder-Magnetic Little Man—this was a grand spectacle, hidden in the microcosm, that no ordinary cultivator would ever witness.

Mo Hua was awestruck for quite some time.

Only after a while did he snap back to reality.

"Time to get down to business…"

Mo Hua began controlling the Thunder-Magnetic Little Man to navigate through the thunder-magnetic currents within the demonic sect's compound magnetic array. From this vast sea of magnetic data, he started intercepting information fragments and extracting classified messages.

The permissions of a Transmission Disciple were indeed substantial.

But Mo Hua's case was… different.

He'd manually edited his identity via magnetic runes—granting himself artificial authority—and directly tapped into the magnetic sea using thunder-magnetic means. He had essentially hacked into the system's backend.

He could do everything a normal Transmission Disciple could do—and more.

As long as his permissions allowed, even things ordinary demonic disciples couldn't do… he could.

In theory, any and all information accessible to the sect's Transmission Disciples was now laid bare before him.

A vast Primordial Magnetic Archive, filled with logs of demonic cultivator conversations, was now at his fingertips.

In the days that followed, whenever he had free time, Mo Hua would dive into the demonic sect's magnetic sea using the Thunder-Magnetic Little Man. With open permissions, he began rummaging through their magnetic archives—digging into the sect's dirty secrets.

Strangely though, no matter how deep he dug, he never found the name of this demonic sect.

It was as if every single person within the sect was deliberately avoiding mentioning it.

Very odd.

Aside from that, almost everything in the sect was centered around blood.

In the disciples' conversations, two out of every three sentences involved the word "blood." The sect's entire operational structure—from top to bottom—was deeply tied to it.

First: blood slaves.

The sect had a complete and strict system for selecting, taming, feeding on, and grading blood slaves.

They were ranked upper, middle, and lower based on spiritual roots and blood vitality.

But that was just a general classification. There were also many bizarre preferences based on blood "flavor."

For instance:

Men's blood: more yang energy

Women's blood: more yin energy

Virgins of either gender: considered purer

Harmonious dao companions: balanced blood taste due to yin-yang harmony

Promiscuous cultivators: messy yin-yang, muddled blood—resulting in low-quality blood slaves that the demonic disciples unanimously disdained…

Within this sect, the most coveted blood was the legendary "bloodline power."

Some cultivators had extraordinary origins, blessed fates, or ancestral ties to ancient powers—carrying bloodlines of ancient cultivators or primordial beasts.

This blood was elite—rare and mystical, ideal for cultivation.

Such cultivators were considered living treasures. If one could be turned into a blood slave, they'd be priceless.

A top-grade blood slave with bloodline power would drive any blood-cultivating demon into a frenzy.

Naturally, such slaves were reserved for top figures—old monsters, sect leaders, major demonic bosses. Ordinary disciples couldn't even afford to think about them.

"Bloodline power…" Mo Hua murmured, frowning.

He realized—he had never knowingly encountered a cultivator with such bloodline power.

Or maybe he had, but simply didn't recognize it at the time.

After all, he hadn't known anything about bloodlines before. It was only after hacking into this blood-sucking demonic sect's network and reading through their chat logs that he understood how deeply hidden this knowledge was.

And now he realized—because it was so rare and so desirable to demons, those with bloodline power would naturally hide it to avoid disaster.

Suddenly, Mo Hua's heart skipped a beat.

He remembered something from long, long ago…

Back in the Five Elements Sect, his senior martial sister had once secretly shared a "secret" with him:

She told him that her bloodline was special, which was why she always "attracted butterflies and bees."

Even though she was a woman, she often drew the admiration of other women.

She had whispered this secret to him alone.

At the time, Mo Hua didn't think much of it. But now, upon reflection—this "bloodline" thing was clearly a massive secret.

If she hadn't trusted him deeply, she would never have said it.

Mo Hua's heart felt a little sour… and a little sweet.

Then came worry.

If her bloodline was truly special—and that fact got out—wouldn't that make her a target for demonic cultivators?

Especially ones like these blood-sucking sects or ancient demonic overlords…

But then again, Mo Hua relaxed a bit. His senior sister wasn't like him. She was from the Bai family—a genuine noble lineage—and her mother was in the Ascension Realm. No one would dare lay a hand on her.

Plus, that whole "other girls fall in love with me" thing… felt oddly useless. Honestly, kind of a weird bloodline trait.

Probably not that amazing after all.

Mo Hua finally set his mind at ease.

Then, he went back to analyzing the magnetic runes in the demonic sect token.

Aside from blood, the second favorite topic of these disciples was demonic techniques.

Specifically, their main cultivation method—Blood Lotus Art.

Its principle was simple: bloodsucking.

The only differences were whose blood to suck, how to suck it, how to refine it, and how to suppress one's bloodlust and act like a normal person afterward…

Mo Hua read through tons of demonic message logs—conversations about refining techniques, tips, even recipes—and realized if he kept going, he himself might start cultivating it.

"Ugh… isn't there something more confidential?"

He was unsatisfied. Surely this sect had deeper secrets than this.

So he tried diving further into the magnetic sea's deeper layers… and ran into a wall:

A magnetic lock.

These magnetic locks were magnetic runes shaped like chains, tiered and encrypted—used to restrict access based on authority level.

In other words, Mo Hua's custom-made "Transmission Disciple" status had hit its ceiling. He couldn't touch the deeper secrets.

Still, he was unwilling to give up and made several attempts.

But this time, the locks were insulated formations—solid like levees—and the secondary thunder currents couldn't penetrate them. Which meant his Thunder-Magnetic Little Man couldn't modify them.

To break these magnetic locks, he'd either need to steal a higher-level Elder's permissions,

or wait until his own Thunder-Magnetic mastery improved enough to brute-force them.

Mo Hua thought for a bit, then chose to back off for now.

These locks… he could figure them out later.

Since the higher-level secrets were temporarily out of reach, he could at least use the Thunder-Magnetic Little Man to "monitor" the activity of lower-ranked disciples and gather their movements.

A great way to:

Collect intelligence

Train his Thunder-Magnetic mastery

Practice controlling the little thunder golem

A win-win-win.

So, over the next few days, Mo Hua continued his surveillance.

He uncovered a mountain of random knowledge on blood slaves, blood techniques, blood rituals, blood grading, bloodlines… and gained a whole lot of utterly useless info.

But among all that garbage, there wasn't much that truly concerned him…

Until one day, a strange sentence appeared:

"Been starving for days. Finally… time for a full meal?"

A full meal?

Mo Hua narrowed his eyes.

Thanks to his days of "eavesdropping," he now understood the demonic sect's slang and habits.

In a flash, two words surfaced in his mind:

Blood Banquet.

Only during a large-scale blood banquet, where demonic cultivators slaughtered cultivators en masse, sacrificed scores of blood slaves, and drenched the halls in rivers of blood—could they truly feel "full."

Mo Hua frowned deeply.

Such a banquet meant mass killing.

Even a small one could claim dozens of innocent lives.

To these demons, they were just blood slaves, walking blood stones. To the Dao Court, just cold numbers in a report.

But in truth—they were real people. One by one. Flesh and blood.

Mo Hua sighed.

If he didn't know, fine. But now that he did…

"If I can stop it—I will."

But the problem was—he'd only overheard a single vague line: "Finally, a full meal."

No details on when the feast would take place, where it would happen, who the victims were, or which demonic cultivators were involved. He knew nothing else.

Mo Hua locked onto the demonic cultivator who said that and combed through his chat history—no further clues.

He checked other demonic cultivators' messages as well, but the primordial magnetic array was densely packed with information, far too chaotic to sift through quickly. No traces of any so-called "blood banquet" surfaced.

"So tight-lipped?"

Mo Hua frowned.

At this rate, he had no good options.

After thinking for a bit, he took out his message talisman and wrote to Uncle Gu:

"Uncle Gu, are you there?"

He waited for a long time—but no reply.

Mo Hua then turned to Magistrate Xia:

"Sister Xia, is Uncle Gu with you?"

Still no response.

Mo Hua mulled it over. Uncle Gu not replying could just be his usual stubbornness—but if Sister Xia didn't reply, something must be wrong.

"Are they both busy on a mission for the Dao Court?"

That was the only explanation that made sense.

So Mo Hua left a message:

"Uncle Gu, the demonic sect might be planning a blood banquet soon. If the Dao Court has any leads, keep an eye on it…"

With that, he put the talisman away and sighed.

That was all he could do.

Steal some intelligence. Report it to the Dao Court.

After that, Mo Hua returned to his usual cultivation and classes, but even by nightfall, his heart remained unsettled. He couldn't stop thinking about the blood banquet.

He had this nagging feeling—like something had slipped past him.

"A blood banquet is about to happen…"

"Uncle Gu and Sister Xia are on a secret mission…"

"Could their mission be related to this blood banquet?"

Mo Hua thought it through—and realized it wasn't far-fetched.

The Dao Court had been battling these demonic sects for ages—they had to have intelligence sources.

That they would catch wind of a blood banquet? Entirely plausible.

Mo Hua let out a breath of relief.

"As long as the Dao Court knows…"

Maybe the Dao Court wasn't always reliable, but Uncle Gu and Sister Xia—they were.

But as time passed, the unease in Mo Hua's heart only grew stronger.

He cultivated causality, and this kind of premonition wasn't just baseless paranoia.

"What does it mean…"

"Is their mission going wrong? Will they run into danger? Or worse… will they fail to stop the banquet, and many will die?"

Mo Hua's frown deepened.

After a moment of contemplation, his expression abruptly changed—a chilling thought surged into his mind.

He hesitated, then took out his Origin-Returning Jade Slip and that same demonic sect token. Guiding the Thunder-Magnetic Little Man, he once again infiltrated the deep layers of the magnetic sea within the token.

He found the demonic cultivator who had said, "Finally, a full meal," and began meticulously reviewing every single message he'd sent in recent days.

A blood banquet wasn't a minor affair. It required many cultivators and the slaughter of many victims.

Especially under the watchful eye of the Dao Court, such an event would require massive coordination.

That kind of coordination couldn't happen without communication.

And the demonic cultivators didn't know their internal chat logs were being "monitored" by Mo Hua, so it was unlikely they'd be totally silent about it.

If they had discussed it, and he hadn't seen it…

Then clearly—he missed something.

Missed something…

Mo Hua combed through the records of that demonic cultivator—until finally, he found another strange message:

"In a few more days, we can finally kill the dog…"

This phrase was ambiguous and buried in the sea of magnetic chatter. He hadn't paid it any mind before.

But now—it stood out as highly suspicious.

Kill a dog…?

Why would demonic cultivators mention killing a dog?

Why talk about it in an official sect communication token?

What did "dog" actually refer to?

In just a moment, Mo Hua's heart skipped a beat.

"Dao Court's dogs…"

He'd heard that phrase countless times—a common insult thrown around by demonic, heretical, or criminal cultivators.

"Dog" was slang for Dao Court enforcers—those who worked for the system.

Mo Hua immediately began scanning for other messages using the keyword "kill the dog."

But the secondary lightning runes within the Thunder-Magnetic Little Man were still too few.

Mo Hua was only at Foundation Establishment—his spiritual sense wasn't powerful enough to quickly process the massive array of data in the Primordial Magnetic Array.

So the search was slow.

He didn't know how long had passed—but eventually, Mo Hua finished retrieving most of the conversations containing the phrase "kill the dog."

Message after message appeared before him.

And the more Mo Hua read, the colder he felt.

His terrifying suspicion was finally confirmed:

The true target of the blood banquet was the Dao Court.

They were going to use Dao Court cultivators as sacrifices.

But…

Would the Dao Court really fall for it?

Mo Hua kept flipping through the records—and found a chat log from ten days ago:

"The Elder found a 'cat'…"

"Damn thing—stealing from us, eating with one paw and scratching us with the other…"

"What do we do? Kill him? Skin him, drain him dry, hang him at the gates to set an example?"

"Kill him…"

"Hold on. The Elder decides…"

…

A day later, another message appeared:

"...Elder has spoken. Too wasteful to kill him. We'll use the cat to lure in the dogs—eat the dogs first, then eat the cat…"

…

Mo Hua's heart turned cold.

The outline of the whole situation was now becoming clear.

The "cat" was likely a spy planted by the Dao Court.

The "dogs" referred to the Dao Court's enforcers.

The Dao Court had clearly used some method to infiltrate the demonic sect with a spy.

But somehow, that spy had been discovered.

The demonic sect, rather than eliminating him outright, decided to use him as bait—to set a trap and lure Dao Court cultivators into it.

Mo Hua immediately took out his message talisman and sent a message to Gu Changhuai:

"Uncle Gu, the spy inside the demonic sect has been exposed."

"Uncle Gu, beware of an ambush."

"Uncle Gu…"

But Gu Changhuai still didn't respond—not a single message.

Mo Hua had no choice but to try Magistrate Xia next, but that too—vanished into the void.

"I can't reach them…"

Mo Hua's brows furrowed deeply.

At this point, he was almost certain: Uncle Gu and the others had received the spy's intelligence and gone to carry out a mission.

But that "intelligence"… was a lie.

"I hope Uncle Gu realizes it in time…"

But no matter how he tried to convince himself, Mo Hua felt hope was slim.

The spy embedded in the demonic sect didn't know they'd been exposed.

The intel they delivered back would have seemed completely real.

In fact, it was likely real—deliberately leaked by the demonic sect. A real event used as a live bait.

Under those conditions, the Dao Court would never suspect a trap.

They would bite.

Otherwise, Mo Hua wouldn't feel such an intense, instinctive sense of dread.

And as that ominous feeling intensified—he could now feel it:

Dao Court cultivators were already walking into the trap.

"What do I do?"

Mo Hua's face was grim.

Go to the Gu Clan? Useless.

This was a top-secret Dao Court mission. Even the Gu Clan might not know the details.

And those Gu Clan cultivators who did know, were likely already with Uncle Gu—walking into their deaths.

Contact the Dao Court directly? Find Magistrate Xia?

But Elder Zheng's words still echoed in his mind—the Thunder-Magnetic Array must not be revealed to anyone.

If he went to the Dao Court or confronted Magistrate Xia, they would surely ask how he got this intel.

With Uncle Gu, Mo Hua could fudge it a little—not because Gu was gullible, but because of their trust and bond. Uncle Gu wouldn't press too hard.

But Magistrate Xia?

If she caught a whiff of the truth—that would be disastrous.

And now… there wasn't even time.

Mo Hua's heart grew more and more anxious.

Suddenly, in the magnetic sea of the demonic sect token, things went quiet. Then a moment later—it exploded into frenzied motion.

It seemed the operation had begun. No need to hide anymore.

One command after another—filled with killing intent—was transmitted. Magnetic sigils surged in waves. Dense messages passed swiftly and smoothly, like a well-oiled war machine.

"Everything is in place…"

"The dogs have arrived. They've walked right into the trap…"

"The 'cat' is under watch. If he acts up—we'll kill him on the spot."

"How many targets?"

"That guy named Gu, the woman, and one Golden Core cultivator from outside Qianxue Prefecture."

"About a hundred more Dao Court cultivators at Foundation Establishment."

"Not enough for a feast…"

"It's plenty. Don't get greedy."

"Any signs of their ambush?"

"None."

"It's their own spy. The intel he sent—of course they trust it."

"Seal off their retreat."

"Already done. The chief gave the order—seals are in place."

"The sentry says they're almost here—already reached the East Gate…"

"Pull the sentry. That Gu guy's sharp—he might notice."

"Pass it down—Gu must not escape. The chief has named him specifically."

"Tell them to begin the slaughter. Start the blood feast."

"Once the scent of blood spreads, the Dao Court will smell it. They'll rush in—and that's when we spring the trap."

"Understood."

This was a major operation by the demonic sect.

Deeply hidden in planning, extremely meticulous in execution, involving a large number of powerful demonic cultivators.

Even within the sect, it had been shrouded in secrecy—only now did its true face emerge.

Mo Hua felt a chill deep in his heart.

"It's over. I'm too late…"

It had all happened so fast—almost without warning. By the time the Dao Court realized, it would be far too late.

The demonic sect had deployed far too many top cultivators. The Dao Court couldn't possibly match them.

Uncle Gu might not even survive—let alone the regular Dao Court enforcers, or the many Gu Clan cultivators who came along.

And it wouldn't just be a simple death.

They'd be turned into offerings—their blood drained dry as part of a demonic blood feast.

And now—it was too late to make plans. Too late to warn anyone.

With his current strength, he couldn't do a damn thing.

It felt like all he could do… was stand by and watch Uncle Gu and the others walk to their deaths.

Within the demonic sect token, magnetic sigils kept flashing.

The encirclement was closing.

The Dao Court cultivators were walking step by step into the trap, into their demise…

Uncle Gu. Sister Xia. Gu An. Gu Quan. And all the other familiar faces from the Gu Clan—they flashed through his mind like a lantern procession.

Mo Hua's chest tightened, anguish and dread knotting his heart.

And then—in a sudden flash of clarity, he remembered something.

He froze for a moment. Then his gaze sharpened.

Without another second of hesitation, his eyes turned deep, golden light surging from their depths. He pushed his spiritual sense to the limit, overlaying it with Heavenly Machine Deduction and Divinatory Insight, fully unleashing his mental calculation power.

With all his focus, he directed the Thunder-Magnetic Little Man, now bearing the Origin-Returning signature—

And in a single burst—he sent an anonymous message to every demonic cultivator participating in the ambush:

"There's a mole. Abort the mission."

(End of this Chapter)