Chapter 387: Chapter 937: Wind Runes
Chapter 937: Wind Runes
"Orphans?" Mo Hua found it hard to believe. "Lone Mountain City's 'Lone'… is it the 'Lone' from 'orphan'?"
"Not entirely," Master Gu explained. "Lone Mountain City is named after Lone Mountain, which originally went by the name 'Lone Huang Mountain.'"
"The mountain was rich in Bright Yellow Copper Ore—a metal of pure, golden luster, dazzling and radiant. When plated onto spiritual tools, treasures, or even palaces, it gleamed brighter than gold itself and was highly sought after by noble families and prestigious sects."
"But later, the ore was overmined—exhausted completely—leaving behind only a ravaged, pitch-black mining mountain. And with the mine's decline came a sharp decrease in cultivators… and a sharp increase in orphans. That's when people started calling it simply 'Lone Mountain,' and thus the city became 'Lone Mountain City.'"
Mo Hua glanced around. Dozens of thin, dark-skinned children with hunched backs carrying ore—it was a grim scene. He fell silent and sighed.
Some are born into wealth and live in luxury their whole lives.
While others seem born to suffer.
And the suffering… only deepens, continuing until death.
Mo Hua furrowed his brows, his heart heavy.
Just then, one child carrying a bamboo basket slipped and fell, spilling a pile of coarse, worthless-looking black ore onto the ground.
The child ignored the fresh scrape on his knee and quickly scrambled up, panicked, gathering the spilled stones back into his basket—afraid they might be snatched away.
Most of the ore was worth nothing.
But to this child, it was treasure.
It was his only means of survival. Only by collecting this scrap ore could he afford even a single bite of food.
In another place, perhaps other children might really have rushed over to snatch it.
But fortunately, this was near the artifact workshop, where people still observed some rules. No one tried to steal his ore.
The child put the stones back in the basket and hoisted it onto his back again.
The weight immediately bent his small frame. The basket's straps dug harshly into his shoulders, leaving two deep purple bruises.
He stood in line, still wearing the basket.
He could have set it down for a moment's rest—but maybe he was just used to it.
Maybe… the moment he set it down, he'd feel insecure, unsure if he'd still earn enough for his next meal.
So he stayed that way. Hunched over. Silently bearing the heavy burden.
And he wasn't the only one. All the children nearby were like this.
Mo Hua couldn't help but walk over.
The child noticed someone approaching. He looked up and saw a delicate, ethereal young noble—skin fair as jade, brows gentle as water, elegant like an immortal.
He froze, dumbstruck. Then, as if ashamed of his own filth and raggedness, quickly averted his gaze.
Mo Hua's eyes filled with pity. He reached out and took the basket from the boy's back.
The child trembled in fear, but after a moment, didn't resist, letting Mo Hua take it.
Though Mo Hua had a weak constitution, that was only relative to Foundation Establishment cultivators—he was still far beyond ordinary mortals.
The basket was heavy, filled with dark stone.
Mo Hua weighed it in his hands, then gently took out an array brush.
He had the thought to draw an array on the basket—but as soon as he lifted the brush, he hesitated and paused in thought.
It couldn't be complex.
The bamboo was poor quality and fragile. It couldn't support intricate array structures.
It couldn't be high-grade either.
It would require too many spirit stones—something these children couldn't possibly afford.
Even a common one-grade array with nine runes would already be too "luxurious" for them.
After careful consideration, Mo Hua finally began to draw.
He drew just a single rune.
The simplest possible one-grade array rune—
An Eight-Trigram Wind Rune.
As the rune took shape, it shimmered with a faint light and merged into the basket.
Mo Hua spoke softly, "Try lifting it again."
The child, still confused, picked the basket up and slung it back over his shoulder. Then, he froze—staring at Mo Hua in disbelief.
As he lifted the basket, the rune activated—summoning a gentle wind that pushed upward, lightening the burden.
The basket felt much lighter.
His shoulders didn't hurt as much.
His spine… could finally straighten a little.
It was just a low-tier rune, barely qualifying as an array. Its power was minimal—but for children like this, it was enough to let them breathe under the crushing weight of fate.
Mo Hua looked at that glowing rune and suddenly understood the principles Elder Zheng once told him:
"Heaven and Earth embrace all beings—regardless of status.
The Dao of Arrays encompasses all laws—regardless of rank."
High-tier arrays were deep and obscure—they could probe the Dao and unravel the heavens.
But only low-tier arrays, scattered across the land, could truly benefit the people.
Sometimes, you didn't even need a full array. Just one or two simple runes… was enough.
A sudden flash of inspiration hit Mo Hua like a thunderclap.
The simpler it is, the easier it is to learn, spread, and apply.
And the easier it is to change the fate of the common folk.
Could this be… the ultimate form of the Dao?
To use the simplest form to contain the vastness of Heaven's laws—so that the Dao's will would spread across the land, all beings united in spirit, and Heaven and Earth as one?
This—was it not truly…
"The Great Dao is the simplest truth. Return to the origin. Return to the natural way."
Mo Hua's heart trembled.
Suddenly, he thought of the Five Elements Sect's secret legacy—the "Return to Origin Algorithm."
Simplify the complex. All arrays return to one.
Take the vast, convoluted array systems and reduce them to a single source rune containing the Five Elements' principles.
Wasn't that following the same logic?
From simplicity to complexity—mastering all the world's arrays.
From complexity back to simplicity—reducing myriad formations to their source.
Only then could one truly reach the heart of array cultivation…
Only then could one truly seek the Dao and ascend to immortality.
Mo Hua stood motionless, lost in thought.
A deep, obscure aura began to ripple from him, and a faint light of Dao intent swirled in his eyes.
Master Gu, standing nearby, was deeply shaken.
He didn't know what Mo Hua had just comprehended… but he knew that arrays were a manifestation of the Dao—and array masters were closest to it.
Array masters could often glimpse insights ordinary cultivators could not.
But even so, this was the first time he had ever seen an array master enter a moment of enlightenment… with such profound aura radiating around him.
"I wonder… is this how all array masters are, or is it just that Little Master Mo is… special?"
Master Gu silently thought to himself, but tactfully said nothing, afraid of disturbing him.
After a while, Mo Hua returned to his senses. The aura around him faded, and the divine light in his eyes settled.
He turned and said warmly,
"Have the children bring their baskets. I'll draw the runes for them."
"Of course." Master Gu nodded.
He quickly gave the order, having the basket-carrying children line up one by one.
Mo Hua then used his array brush to inscribe a Grade-One Wind Rune on each basket.
For Mo Hua, it was child's play.
With just a flick of his brush, each rune took shape in a few seconds.
In just the time it takes for one incense stick to burn, every dirty old bamboo basket now glowed with a silvery-white rune.
Wind followed them wherever they went.
And when they carried those heavy baskets full of stone, the burden no longer felt unbearable.
Once he finished, Mo Hua didn't say much. He simply smiled gently at the group of children—and turned to leave.
All of them watched him go.
Their faces were dark and thin, still timid and stiff…
But deep in their eyes, a new light had begun to shine— Hope.
...
Inside the Gu Artifact Workshop – Guest Hall
Master Gu personally poured a cup of tea for Mo Hua.
But Mo Hua was still thinking about the orphans. After a moment, he finally asked:
"These children… there's nothing we can do?"
Master Gu understood what Mo Hua meant, and sighed. "This matter… is actually quite complicated."
"Give them more spirit stones?"
"That won't work." Master Gu shook his head. "The human heart is treacherous. If you give these children more spirit stones—even just a few fragments—they'll be robbed clean in no time."
"They'll start robbing each other. Some adult cultivators might rob them too."
"There are even mad cultivators who would extort them just to get spirit stones."
"Ironically," he added bitterly, "when these orphans have nothing of value, no one cares about them—they live miserably. But the moment they do have something of worth, and others take notice, they end up even worse off."
"I've also thought of giving them more food…" Master Gu sighed again. "But Lone Mountain City has too many orphans. Once you open that door, they'll come flooding in—and we couldn't possibly feed them all."
"And besides, our Artifact Workshop only just stabilized financially. Even our own masters, disciples, and apprentices haven't eaten their fill for very long. We simply don't have the means to support those kids."
There was bitterness in his expression.
Mo Hua let out a quiet sigh.
The human heart is unpredictable.
Even something as seemingly simple as doing good—once people are involved, becomes tangled and complicated.
In this world, doing the right thing is often far harder than doing the wrong one…
After a moment of thought, Mo Hua asked,
"Does the Artifact Workshop have any array masters?"
"That depends on what kind you mean…" Master Gu said. "We have some who can casually sketch a few arrays, sure—but ones worthy of your standards, Young Master? Definitely not."
"That's fine. Just someone who can draw simple arrays is enough."
Mo Hua pulled out a slip of paper from his sleeve. Drawn on it was the same wind-type array rune he'd just inscribed on the children's bamboo baskets.
"This is a Grade-One Eight-Trigram Wind Rune. Wind-type runes in Eight-Trigram arrays are rare—usually only major sects have them in their inheritance. But a basic Grade-One Wind Rune like this isn't too difficult. Just find someone with some foundational array knowledge and have them practice a lot."
"Master Gu, please have someone learn this rune."
"From now on, whenever these orphans come with their baskets to exchange for spirit stone fragments, inscribe this wind rune onto their baskets for them."
"It's a Grade-One rune—its effect is weak, but so is its spirit consumption. You only need to mix a little spirit stone powder into the spirit ink, and it'll last a long time. Even these children can afford to use it."
Master Gu took the thin rune slip from Mo Hua's hands—his fingers trembling slightly.
He couldn't help but glance up at Mo Hua: beautiful like a celestial being, his brows gentle yet tinged with sorrow and compassion. In his heart, Master Gu sighed with awe—there truly were people in this world born with such kindness.
And then… he looked down at the rune slip again.
It seemed like nothing more than a simple little rune—but Master Gu understood this deeply: that's precisely what made it difficult.
Using the simplest, most affordable method to solve the most difficult problem—
That couldn't be done without an extensive understanding of arrays and deep cultivation experience.
With the utmost seriousness, Master Gu carefully tucked the rune paper away and clasped his fists in salute.
"On behalf of the thousands of orphans in Lone Mountain City, I thank you, Young Master!"
That evening, Master Gu held a special banquet to honor Mo Hua.
He also invited all the workshop's masters, disciples, and apprentices to enjoy a big feast.
Outside the workshop, Master Gu even set up a temporary meal station—for the children. Each child received two steamed buns and a bowl of porridge.
Of course, he couldn't afford to do that every day.
But since Young Master Mo was here—just this once wouldn't hurt.
And so, the inside of the Artifact Workshop was ablaze with lantern light and filled with cheerful noise.
Outside, the children's faces showed rare smiles.
Mo Hua sat in the main seat of the courtyard, eating spirit beast meat.
This meat was a specialty of Lone Mountain City—not particularly rare, but tasty.
Yet… the moment he thought about those children outside, celebrating just for a bun or two…
The meat in his mouth lost all flavor.
Still, Mo Hua wasn't one to act overly sentimental. Besides, the spirit meat itself was innocent—no point wasting it.
He forced himself to finish every bite on his plate.
After the meal, he had a little wine and watched the blacksmiths arm-wrestle and play drinking games. It was lively for a while, but when he felt tired, he retired to rest.
Master Gu had prepared a fine guest room for him.
Mo Hua lay down and closed his eyes for a bit, trying to clear his head of the wine's effects. He was just about to get up and draw some arrays—
—but before midnight struck…
He drifted off to sleep.
And once again… he fell into that nightmare.
In the dream, a pair of black, hollow eyes—streaked with blood, eerie and terrifying—gazed at him.
Countless mutilated limbs and corpses seemed to crawl up from the abyss, dragging themselves toward Mo Hua, gnawing at his spiritual consciousness—his very "body of awareness."
Mo Hua once again tasted that deep sense of weakness, helplessness… despair.
Only this time—it was clearer, more vivid, and even more hopeless.
Which also meant—the nightmare's rule-based power had grown stronger.
But Mo Hua's expression was icy.
He showed no hesitation.
No fear.
Even as thousands of vengeful souls swarmed him, biting and tearing at his being, Mo Hua stood firm—relying on his formidable will and spiritual strength. He treated everything before him as pure illusion.
In his palm, a sword of divine will began to slowly take form, flickering into existence.
Who knows how much time passed—
But then, Mo Hua's eyes suddenly flashed with sharp light.
The sword of will in his hand fully formed. With a single sweep of his arm, he released a blinding golden slash—
And all the howling souls before him were obliterated.
The sinister, bloodthirsty gaze of the Evil Embryo vanished.
Mo Hua awoke from the nightmare.
This time, he was even more certain.
The nightmare from the Evil God contained a rule-based power—one capable of twisting his spiritual perception, suppressing or even partially erasing his divine will, trapping him inside a nearly inescapable nightmare.
The power of the first nightmare… hadn't been too strong.
But this one?
Clearly stronger than the last.
Why?
Was it because… he was getting closer to the source of the nightmare?
Mo Hua turned his head to look out the window.
Outside, the endless stretch of Lone Mountain loomed. Under the cover of night, it was pitch-black, lifeless, barren, eerie—like some terrifying colossus silently devouring Lone Mountain City.
Mo Hua narrowed his eyes slightly.
The next morning, after breakfast, he said:
"Master Gu, would you be willing to take me on a tour of Lone Mountain?"
"Lone Mountain?" Master Gu blinked in surprise.
"Mm." Mo Hua nodded.
Master Gu hesitated for a moment, then said,
"Lone Mountain is rugged and filthy. Most of it was abandoned after being overmined—there's really nothing worth seeing."
"It's fine. I just want to take a look," Mo Hua replied calmly.
After thinking it over, Master Gu nodded.
"Alright."
He made arrangements for the workshop, then personally led Mo Hua alone along a few desolate, winding mountain paths into Lone Mountain.
Though it was still early morning, there were already a fair number of cultivators scattered about the mountain—some of them still children.
They carried bamboo baskets on their backs, heads lowered, carefully sifting through filthy blackened mine pits for possibly useful ore scraps.
Cultivators lived off the land.
Lone Mountain had once been the ancestral treasure of their forefathers, meant to support the descendants of Lone Mountain for generations.
But now… its mineral veins had long been exhausted.
These descendants of Lone Mountain could only scavenge its "remains," picking out scraps to trade for a few broken spirit stones—just barely enough to survive.
Mo Hua took it all in with quiet eyes and continued walking forward.
Just as Master Gu had said, Lone Mountain was utterly desolate.
Abandoned mine shafts were scattered everywhere, disorderly and dangerous. The gaping black holes pocked the mountainside, with no telling where they might lead.
Some paths were damp and dim, the ground littered with foul-smelling ore remnants—laced with toxic residues.
Mo Hua wandered for quite some time… yet still found nothing.
He hadn't located any clues he'd been searching for—nor sensed even a trace of sinister aura.
He couldn't help but glance back at the sprawling wilderness of Lone Mountain.
"It should be right," he muttered.
Yuer had said: a cunning rabbit has three burrows—one river, one mountain, one man.
That river—Mo Hua was certain—referred to the Mistwater River.
So then this mountain—by all logic—should be Lone Mountain.
But there were no signs of anything sinister here.
No evil gods' minions.
No demonic cultivators.
No trace of demonic aura.
No altars.
No slaughter.
Not even any formations…
To all appearances, it was just an exhausted mine, abandoned and forgotten after being drained of value.
Mo Hua's brow furrowed deeper as he continued onward.
But after just a few steps, Master Gu stopped him.
"Young Master, we can't go any farther. Up ahead is the Shen Family's mountain."
Mo Hua's pupils shrank as he whipped around.
"Shen Family?"
Master Gu nodded.
"Which Shen Family?"
"The one from Qianxue Prefecture—one of the top fifth-rank aristocratic clans. They hold hereditary positions within one of the Four Great Sects, the Heavenly Dao Sect… that Shen Family."
There was obvious unease in his voice as he pointed ahead.
"Everything within a hundred li ahead belongs to the Shen Family. Back when they mined Bright-Yellow Copper here, they bought up this entire section of mountain. Once the mine was exhausted, they sealed it off and forbade any other cultivators from entering."
Mo Hua's eyelids twitched as he turned to gaze at the vast expanse of mountains before him.
This stretch of peaks looked no different from any other area.
If Master Gu hadn't said anything, he'd never have guessed… this was owned by the Shen Family.
Master Gu offered gently: "Young Master, perhaps… we should look somewhere else?"
The Shen Family's power was overwhelming—he didn't dare offend them in the slightest.
Mo Hua thought it over and eventually nodded in agreement.
The two changed direction and continued walking east. But after circling for quite a while, they still found nothing of value.
Seeing that it was getting late, Master Gu suggested: "Young Master, shall we head back?"
Mo Hua didn't refuse.
They turned around and began retracing their steps down the filthy mountain trail.
This particular path was even more remote than before.
After a while, Mo Hua—sharp-eyed as ever—suddenly spotted something not far off the road: a seemingly inconspicuous corner… where there were some fresh stone chips, along with distinctive tool marks left by picks or chisels.
Mo Hua asked: "This part of the mountain is still being mined?"
Master Gu looked puzzled. "That shouldn't be possible…"
He walked over to the stone fragments, picked some up and rubbed them between his fingers. Then he examined the strange chisel marks more closely—his brow gradually furrowing.
"This doesn't look like mining... It looks more like… grave-robbing."
Mo Hua froze. "Grave-robbing?"
(End of this Chapter)