Immortality Through Array Formations (The Quest for Immortality)

Chapter 936: Orphan

This evil fetus—it was both familiar and foreign.

It took the shape of a pitch-black infant, bearing a resemblance to the one Mo Hua had slain before.

But this one was clearly larger, its limbs more grotesquely malformed, and its aura even more chaotic—

seething with resentment, hatred, and malice far beyond comprehension.

At this moment, it was staring at Mo Hua coldly, its gaze savage and vicious.

Mo Hua stared back.

In the dark, filthy nightmare, a golden silhouette and a black, corrupted evil infant silently faced one another.

No one knew how long had passed—

until suddenly, the evil infant's expression turned frenzied.

Its jagged-toothed mouth opened wide, crimson eyes flaring, right hand pointing at Mo Hua as it muttered strange, twisted syllables.

Mo Hua frowned, not sure what it was trying to do—

but then noticed the black mist roiling around him, and waves of blood-red shock rippling through the air.

The ground began to bulge. Black water condensed into humanoid shapes—

one after another, rising.

At first glance, they looked like demons or monsters. But on closer inspection—they weren't.

They were humans. One after another, pitiful people who had died horrific deaths.

Tattered clothing. Missing limbs. Faces streaked with blood and tears.

They were being enslaved and controlled, their bodies twisted by boundless resentment, crawling toward Mo Hua in agony.

Hands clawed at him.

Mouths bit down.

And the pain struck.

This wasn't just pain of the flesh—it carried with it the despair and torment of countless cultivators:

the suffering of their lives, the sorrow of their deaths.

Mo Hua's expression shifted. He raised two fingers—but no fireball appeared.

He stirred his divine sense—but no array formed.

He grasped with his palm—but no divine sword emerged.

It was as though, in this nightmare, he was reduced to a weak, powerless, low-born cultivator.

No cultivation. No spells. No formations. No sword arts. Nothing.

Before this catastrophe, all he could do was despair.

More and more of the dead crawled to him, gnawing at his flesh.

The agony of life. The hopelessness of death. Like venom, they seeped into his body.

The pain intensified, and Mo Hua, having lost all power, slowly felt a growing coldness and despair.

Just as he was being devoured by these half-human, half-ghost monsters—

as he sank into an abyss of suffering and was about to be buried under a mountain of corpses—

a wave of clarity suddenly bloomed in his heart.

His Dao heart sharpened—cleansed and reborn.

Mo Hua suddenly awoke within the dream.

"Fake... It's all fake."

"That weak, helpless, lowly cultivator… isn't me."

"I am Mo Hua.

I wield a Dao-tempered divine sense.

I walk my own path.

Hundreds of formation arts refined to perfection, fused into my being.

My divine sense becomes a sword—capable of slaying not only my lesser self, but also demons and devils alike."

Mo Hua's gaze grew resolute, radiating the sharpness of a treasured blade.

He raised his hand—fingers curled into a phantom grip.

Within his palm, a thread of sword intent flickered.

It twisted, flared, collapsed, reformed—constantly resisting the restraints of this nightmare,

constantly defying its rules.

Until finally—a faint cracking sound—

Cracks began to spread across Mo Hua's body.

Then—he clenched his right fist. A burst of golden light. The sword's edge emerged.

He held the Sword of Divine Sense, and with the first slash, struck himself.

A golden flash.

His "dream-incarnation" was shattered into dust.

But what he had cut away was not his true self—

it was that false image: the weak, despairing, powerless cultivator doomed to die under catastrophe.

He had severed the nightmare's rules, which had tricked and beguiled him into believing that "self."

That false identity collapsed. His true self surged back.

Mo Hua's consciousness instantly cleared.

With the nightmare's structure shattered—

all of his divine sense returned to him.

The Sword of Divine Sense in his hand now glowed with radiant brilliance.

Sword qi surged, and with a horizontal sweep—

a dazzling arc of golden light erupted like a breached dam, sweeping across the land.

All those half-human, half-ghost monstrosities—

sliced in half and obliterated, reduced to ash under the golden light.

The nightmare's darkness—cleansed in an instant.

Mo Hua turned and looked ahead.

That deformed, powerful "evil infant" still stood there, staring at him viciously.

But Mo Hua didn't strike it.

Because he knew: what stood before him was nothing more than an illusion.

It never existed to begin with. It was a manifestation of karmic force.

A "karmic anchor."

The nightmare and the demons had formed around it.

But it itself… had never truly been there.

The rules of the nightmare had been broken.

Mo Hua's consciousness was gradually waking.

The evil infant's figure also began to fade away.

But it still watched him.

From the moment Mo Hua entered the dream, it had watched.

When Mo Hua was being devoured—it watched.

When Mo Hua shattered the nightmare and destroyed the demons—it still watched.

And now, as the nightmare dissipated—it was still watching him.

Its pupils were hollow, pitch black, bloodshot, and ghastly—like a cursed specter.

Even after Mo Hua awoke from the nightmare,

those horrific blood-tinged eyes remained imprinted in his mind.

Mo Hua opened his eyes.

The spirit ink on the desk had spilled, soaking the formation papers—still wet.

The nightmare had come swiftly, and left just as fast.

From the moment he'd fallen asleep, to the moment he woke—it hadn't been long at all.

Mo Hua cleaned up the table, wiped the ink, straightened the scrolls,

then sat back down, frowning in thought.

"Why did I have that nightmare?"

Was it that the evil fetus he thought he'd destroyed wasn't truly slain?

Or had he tainted himself with karmic backlash after killing it?

Or maybe... it had to do with meeting that "Young Master"—

seeing, with his own eyes, those poppy-like, fallen Chains of Fate.

And from that moment on… karma had begun to take effect?

"Why was this nightmare so different from the others?

In the dream... I felt like I wasn't even me anymore.

Could this also be the ability of the Evil God?"

Mo Hua's brow furrowed.

"And that evil fetus I saw in the dream—what exactly is it?"

Is it dead? Or is it still alive?

If it's dead—why would it appear in his dream?

If it's not dead—then does that mean…

The Great Wilderness Evil God may not have only one evil fetus?

How many of them had that "Mister Tu" raised?

Yuer's words… and dreams… resurfaced in Mo Hua's mind.

His gaze sharpened slightly. A suspicion began to take shape.

And with it, a vague idea of what he needed to do next.

Mo Hua gathered himself, set aside distractions, and resumed his unshakable routine of practicing formation arts.

Formation arts must be practiced.

If you practice them, you improve. Simple as that.

No matter how many accidents or twists fate throws into your life— as long as there's time, you must keep practicing.

Because time is limited. It flows forward, never backward. And once those fleeting hours are wasted—there's no getting them back.

Mo Hua resumed his training. But not long into it—his expression tensed slightly.

Those eyes—hollow and black, bloodshot and ghastly— reappeared in front of him, silently watching.

Those eyes… It was as if they would exist forever.

As if, in some unknown place, they would always be watching Mo Hua—forever.

And Mo Hua, silently, stared back at them in his heart.

After a moment, he muttered under his breath:

"Still watching me, huh…"

"Keep it up… and I'll 'eat' you."

...

A Few Days Later, in Great Void City—

Mo Hua arranged to meet Master Gu at a restaurant.

Since it wasn't his rest week and he still had classes, time was short. The two simply shared a quick meal and chatted for a bit.

Master Gu was a third-grade artifact refiner from the Gu family, managing the Gu family's artifact workshop in Lone Mountain City.

That workshop had been on the verge of shutting down—barely staying afloat. It was Mo Hua who had helped them draw array formations, customize spirit tools, and even bring in business. Only then did the place recover and begin to thrive.

Master Gu was endlessly grateful to Mo Hua. At the table, he kept pouring wine and piling food into Mo Hua's bowl—acting as if Mo Hua were the Golden Core cultivator, and he was merely the Foundation Establishment one.

Mo Hua smiled, "Master Gu, no need to be so polite."

Master Gu grinned, "It's only right, only right." He dropped another piece of pork elbow onto Mo Hua's plate and chuckled, "Young Master, your kindness to our artifact shop is a great favor. Whatever you need in the future, just say the word."

His expression was full of sincerity.

Mo Hua's eyes flickered slightly. He asked, "Master Gu, how are things in Lone Mountain City lately?"

"Lately?" Master Gu scratched his head, thinking. "Pretty much the same as before. But our artifact business is doing a lot better—spirit stones are rolling in. That's improved the local economy too."

"Plenty of artifact refiners come to our shop for work. Even the miners and laborers benefit—just by association, they can earn a meal."

"Of course, compared to the big, prosperous immortal cities—or even some of the richer mid-sized ones—Lone Mountain is still way behind. But compared to how it was before? It's a world of difference. There are more cultivators coming and going, and the city is finally showing some signs of life…"

Mo Hua nodded.

So… the situation was improving. Life was getting better—bit by bit.

"Then…" Mo Hua lowered his voice. "Has anything odd happened in Lone Mountain recently?"

Master Gu instinctively lowered his voice as well. "Young Master… What kind of odd things do you mean?"

"Like… anything strange, eerie... or maybe…" Mo Hua's eyes turned cold, "A major massacre? Something like a whole household being wiped out?"

Master Gu's face stiffened. "A massacre?"

"Mm," Mo Hua nodded. "Like the Tu family—killed to the last man."

Master Gu frowned and thought seriously for a moment, then shook his head. "No."

"No?" Mo Hua asked again.

"No incidents like that recently," Master Gu replied. "Besides, Lone Mountain's population is mostly scattered families now. Ever since the city fell into decline, there haven't been many proper clans left. So that kind of 'entire clan exterminated' thing… is pretty much impossible."

After all, most rogue cultivators only had a few family members—barely enough to be called a 'clan.'

Mo Hua nodded again but felt something off.

No accidents. No big crimes…

The Gu family's artifact shop was thriving, and even nearby cultivators were benefiting. The city had more foot traffic and liveliness…

By all accounts, everything seemed to be heading in the right direction.

So then—

Why...

Why had that "Supervisor Fan Jin," the man they met while encircling the demonic sect,

been so desperate to transfer out of Lone Mountain City?

If he'd simply wanted a promotion or a better post, that'd be understandable.

Ambition is natural.

But in his eyes—there was a deep, unmistakable fear.

What in Lone Mountain could possibly scare a Golden Core Supervisor from the Dao Court?

The more Mo Hua thought about it, the stranger it seemed. So he asked, "Master Gu, do you know someone named Fan Jin?"

"Fan Jin?" Master Gu blinked. "You mean Supervisor Fan from Lone Mountain?"

"Yes," Mo Hua nodded.

"Young Master, you know him?" Master Gu looked surprised.

Mo Hua simply replied, "We met once by chance."

Master Gu nodded, not prying. After thinking a bit, he said, "I've had a few drinks with that Supervisor Fan—so we know each other somewhat. He's… alright. A little opportunistic, likes to put on airs, bullies the weak and fears the strong—but nothing too outrageous. He usually does things by the book. And since Lone Mountain is so poor, there's little for him to exploit, so honestly—he's relatively clean."

"I see…" Mo Hua's eyes showed a thoughtful glint.

Master Gu, ever observant, lowered his voice again. "Young Master… did Supervisor Fan offend you somehow? Or is he in trouble?"

Mo Hua smiled. "It's nothing. He just mentioned he was from Lone Mountain and invited me to a meal, so I thought I'd ask."

Master Gu sighed in relief—Thank heavens it's nothing serious.

That blockhead Fan really does have good instincts.

To recognize that this unassuming "Young Master" was a walking golden thigh… impressive.

The two chatted a bit more. After food and wine, Mo Hua prepared to leave for the Great Void Sect.

Just before departing, he said, "Master Gu—three days from now is my rest week. I'll be heading to Lone Mountain for a visit."

Master Gu blinked in surprise—then lit up with joy and said quickly, "Of course, Young Master! I'll make all the arrangements. I'll personally come to escort you!"

Mo Hua smiled, "Then I'll trouble you."

...

Three days later, Mo Hua boarded the Gu family's carriage. With Master Gu himself as escort, they set out toward Lone Mountain City.

Halfway through the journey, Mo Hua, lost in thought, suddenly felt a twinge of awareness and looked up.

In the distance, among the remote mountain forests, the crumbling rooftop of an old temple peeked out—

the shrine of his old friend, Lord Huangshan.

"Lord Huang…" Mo Hua suddenly felt the urge to pay him a visit.

It had been ages since they'd last met. Who knew how he was doing these days? Still living off rainwater and moldy steamed buns?

But then Mo Hua shook his head.

Master Gu was still on the road. Lone Mountain was far. Stopping to visit Lord Huang would only delay things.

"Next time then… Next time I'll definitely go visit Lord Huangshan."

Mo Hua silently said to himself.

A gust of mountain wind swept past, blowing into the desolate hills. The forests rustled, and even the shrine deep within seemed to tremble ever so slightly.

Afterward, Master Gu focused on driving the carriage, while Mo Hua closed his eyes to rest.

The carriage sped like the wind, and after another half day's journey, they finally arrived at Lone Mountain City.

Mo Hua lifted the curtain and stuck his head out, scanning the surroundings to take in the full view of the city.

The mountain city was still rather bleak—bare stone outcrops, withered vegetation, a sky shrouded in grey. All around were abandoned mines, sparsely populated and eerily quiet.

Compared to the bustling prosperity of the Qianxue Province and its surrounding immortal cities, Lone Mountain gave off an intense sense of disconnection—

As if it didn't belong to the same world.

But Master Gu hadn't been wrong.

Compared to before, Lone Mountain had improved quite a bit. At the very least, the cultivators passing through didn't have such despair and bitterness on their faces—there was a bit more life in their eyes now.

The carriage rolled along the uneven stone-paved street, continuing forward until it arrived at a large artifact workshop located in the southeast corner of the city.

Above the entrance hung a signboard, the bold strokes reading:

Gu Family Artifact Workshop,

with a smaller plaque beneath it reading:

Lone Mountain Branch.

Inside, the workshop buzzed with activity.

Compared to before, the changes were nothing short of earthshaking.

The refining furnaces were bigger. The smelting array formations were more complete. The number of artificers and disciples had clearly multiplied.

Everyone worked in harmony—placing spirit tool embryos into the furnaces to be burned and tempered, then drawing them out for forging.

Blazing flames flared up, sparks flying everywhere. A whole row of newly forged spirit tools, of all shapes and types, was neatly laid out in the courtyard.

In scale, equipment, manpower, and output, the place now far surpassed what it used to be.

Mo Hua hadn't returned to Lone Mountain for quite some time. After they had finalized the rules, set the array formations, and standardized the spirit tools, he'd essentially become a hands-off manager.

Now, seeing the bustling scene before him, even he was a little stunned.

He turned to Master Gu and praised,

"Master Gu, your artifact workshop is doing better and better."

Master Gu, proud of the compliment, bowed respectfully and said,

"It's all thanks to Young Master. Without your help, this place would have never made it to today."

Mo Hua waved his hand modestly.

"Oh, not at all. I only offered a little help."

Master Gu then called out for someone and summoned a whole group of artifact-disciples. He barked,

"Come greet Young Master Mo!"

"Greetings, Young Master Mo!"

A group of burly, sweaty artifact disciples all saluted in unison—

"Many thanks, Young Master Mo!"

"We'll never forget your great kindness!"

The spectacle was so overwhelming that Mo Hua felt a little embarrassed.

"No need to be so formal. Go back to your work."

Master Gu waved for them to disperse and turned back to Mo Hua.

"Young Master, I've arranged a banquet for tonight, especially in your honor. There's still some time before then—would you like me to give you a tour?"

Master Gu figured that Mo Hua hadn't come all the way to Lone Mountain without a reason.

What that reason was, he couldn't guess, so the least he could do was show Mo Hua around as best he could.

Mo Hua nodded. "I'll trouble you, then."

"Please, this way, Young Master." Master Gu personally led the way, showing Mo Hua around the entire workshop.

To outsiders, these areas would be off-limits.

But Mo Hua was no outsider. If he wanted to see it, Master Gu wouldn't say no.

After touring the workshop, Master Gu then led Mo Hua outside.

Outside, quite a few cultivators were gathered on a nearby patch of open ground, sitting cross-legged. In front of them were bamboo baskets filled with various black, gray, or white ores.

"These are all rogue cultivators," Master Gu explained. "They don't have high cultivation, can't refine artifacts, and don't have any other trade skills. All they've got is strength, so they carry baskets and go into the mountains, trying their luck by picking through leftover ore."

"If they're lucky, they might find ores that can be used in artifact crafting—then they can sell them for a few spirit stone fragments, buy some coarse grains, and barely fill their stomachs."

"If they're unlucky… then they go hungry."

"Back in the day, there were barely any workshops in Lone Mountain that could stay open. And the ores they picked were poor quality—no one wanted to buy."

Master Gu sighed, tone tinged with helplessness. "But now it's better. Our workshop is getting bigger and needs lots of ore."

"So even if what they bring is low quality, they can still sell it for a few fragments. It's not much, but at least it keeps them from starving."

Mo Hua felt gratified… but also a bit conflicted.

As he looked around, he noticed among the crowd quite a few children—around ten years old.

They were thin, dark-skinned, faces smudged with dirt. Their arms looked like twigs, and they carried heavy bamboo baskets full of dull, dark ore on their backs.

The weight of the ore bent their spines. These weren't just one or two children—there were many.

Mo Hua felt a twinge of sorrow and a vague sense of unease. He asked softly, "These kids go mining alone? What about their parents?"

Master Gu's expression turned bitter. "This is Lone Mountain City, Young Master… Most of these kids… are orphans."

(End of this Chapter)