Immortality Through Array Formations (The Quest for Immortality)

Chapter 967: The Guilty Have Names

A wave of overwhelming, sinister, and ferocious evil will surged forth.

In an instant, the world spun, the sky changed color, and divine sense twisted and distorted. Vision dimmed, as though falling into a suffocating, shadowy abyss.

Under such a monstrous tide of evil intent, everyone's soul trembled. Even Peak Golden Core cultivators couldn't hold on. One by one, their eyes went blank, their foreheads darkened, and they collapsed slowly to the ground.

Mo Hua lasted the longest—but only barely.

It was as if some wicked will was warping the space of his sea of consciousness, forcefully pulling his divine sense out of his self.

As Elder Xun and the others fell one after another, Mo Hua finally could no longer resist.

He gave up resisting and allowed that evil power to tear his divine sense avatar from his consciousness, dragging it into an unknown realm.

The surrounding scenery resembled the chaotic projections of countless minds—

A kaleidoscope of distorted colors, bizarre illusions, and twisted emotions:

fragmentation, coldness, resentment, deformity…

The world bent, shattered, blurred—then reassembled.

When Mo Hua opened his eyes again, he found himself in a phantasmal nightmare realm.

He was still within a grand divine temple.

This temple resembled the one he had just seen in the material world—

resplendent, majestic, adorned with towers and pavilions…

But now it was steeped in thick, shadowy, black evil intent.

Filthy black water soaked the golden pavilions.

Rotting flesh, born of demonic thoughts, dangled from the eaves.

The walls were embedded with grotesque, malformed eyeballs—glaring with despair, constantly watching.

Ghosts drifted across the skies like storm clouds.

Mo Hua took a sharp breath at the sight but quickly steadied himself, mind turning:

"The Second Elder's corpse was destroyed, his shamanic spell broken, the dragon chains shattered—the Demonic Fetus must've awakened…"

"Its evil will was too strong. In just a moment, it flooded the temple, distorted reality, and pulled everyone's consciousness into this nightmare realm."

"This nightmare is the Demonic Fetus's world. As long as it lives, the nightmare persists."

"Everyone trapped here will be devoured, one by one, becoming nutrients for this realm…"

"In other words—this is a death trap."

"Was that pale, sinister human-demon behind all this?"

"It wants to kill everyone—trap them here, and end them all."

Mo Hua looked up at the divine temple now overflowing with corrupted divine power—

holy in form, but filthy and depraved in essence. His gaze grew solemn.

This was, without doubt, the largest, most vivid nightmare realm he had ever encountered.

The evil will suffusing this nightmare was nearly tangible.

His brow furrowed deeply.

"A peak third-grade Demonic Fetus…"

Even with his powerful divine sense, with his Divine Will refinement and mastery of the God-Slaying Sword style of the Great Void Sect, he had no idea how to fight such a monstrous existence.

Mo Hua pondered in silence for a moment, then sighed softly.

"First, I need to find Elder Xun and Master Gu…"

They had definitely been pulled into the nightmare as well—who knows where they were now?

Though they were Golden Core cultivators, they did not walk the divine sense path, nor did they practice soul-defending techniques. Their divine consciousness, exposed in such a deadly nightmare, was in grave danger.

If they encountered a threat… their survival was far from guaranteed.

They had only been dragged into this nightmare because they were trying to save him.

In both emotion and reason, Mo Hua had to protect them.

As for the peak third-grade Demonic Fetus… he'd deal with that one step at a time.

Mo Hua studied the nightmare realm, estimated his bearings, and began walking—step by step—up the temple's golden staircase.

Fortunately, this spiritual dreamscape was still constructed atop the physical world's geometry.

There were differences—but not many.

He had already walked this path in the real world. Doing so again here, he roughly knew the layout.

The golden steps were stained with dark blood.

Mo Hua concealed his aura, hid his divine sense, and masked his golden divine marrow. Looking like an ordinary child, he climbed the bloodstained stairs one step at a time.

All around him, strange monsters and ghosts swarmed the air—twisting, flying, howling.

But none of them noticed the divine trace he carried.

Step by step, Mo Hua continued, until he reached a golden Dao Platform.

It mirrored the outer platform in every way—except for one difference:

Instead of bronze statues, the platform was now filled with countless wronged souls, bound inside those very bronze statues.

These wailing spirits, trapped within bronze shells, bowed in worship toward the distant divine temple.

They struggled, howled, and mourned.

Their pain and despair were transformed into nourishing energy, flowing toward the heart of the temple.

In life, they were enslaved and exploited.

In death, they became resentful ghosts—still used to extract their anguish and sorrow, to feed the Demonic Fetus.

This… was the logic of this divine temple.

It was also the truth of Lone Mountain.

A flicker of pity appeared in Mo Hua's eyes.

Just then—a shriek pierced the air. Mo Hua looked up, following the sound.

In the distance, a few stray ghosts, having broken free from the bronze shells, were swarming someone.

Their red eyes gleamed. Drool ran from their mouths. Like rabid dogs, they bit and tore at—

A youth.

Fair-faced, weak-aura'd—it was Shen Qingsheng.

Right now, Shen Qingsheng was flailing in panic, waving his sword to drive off the ghosts gnawing at him.

That sword was the embryonic form of his lifebound treasure, nurtured for years.

Thus, even in this dreamscape, it had manifested—but its power was limited, barely enough to fend off basic ghosts.

"Those ghosts escaped the bronze statues and are attacking Shen Qingsheng…"

Mo Hua scanned the surroundings and understood.

Shen Qingsheng was the son of Shen Shouxing.

And Shen Shouxing… was the main culprit who orchestrated the slaughter of over a hundred thousand rogue cultivators at Lone Mountain.

There was blood-soaked karmic debt here.

That's why, once Shen Qingsheng was pulled into this nightmare and landed near the Dao Platform—

The surrounding ghosts were instantly driven into a rage.

They struggled madly, breaking their bindings, trying to claim his life.

They wanted to rip him apart, devour him, and scatter his soul to oblivion.

Retribution comes in time. Karma always collects its due.

Mo Hua had no intention to interfere. He was just about to walk away—

But then, he paused.

After a moment of thought, he sighed and decided to save Shen Qingsheng.

He released a trace of divine pressure, scattering the vengeful ghosts.

Then, with divine sense, he etched sealing runes—trapping the ghosts back inside the bronze statues.

The haunting ceased.

Yet Shen Qingsheng, still terrified, kept swinging his sword wildly, shouting:

"Get away from me, you filthy things! You lowborn pests! Don't touch me! Get lost!"

A moment later, realizing the ghosts were gone, he stood dazed—then overjoyed.

"It must've been the blessing of my Shen ancestors…"

Pale-faced, he muttered:

"This cursed place… I have to get out of here…"

Just as he turned to run—he froze.

There was now someone standing in front of him.

"A child?"

Shen Qingsheng frowned in confusion. But when he saw the boy's face, his pupils shrank:

"You're… Mo Hua?!"

Mo Hua simply gave a quiet "mm."

"Why… do you look like this?" Shen Qingsheng was stunned.

"It's a dream," Mo Hua replied coolly. "Dreams have no fixed form."

Mo Hua couldn't be bothered to explain too much—he simply stated the fact.

Shen Qingsheng's gaze grew darker as he stared at Mo Hua.

On the surface, Mo Hua looked just like an ordinary child—small and harmless, without the strength to truss a chicken.

Did he regress?

Should I take this chance to kill him now?

Shen Qingsheng silently pondered.

There was indeed no small amount of enmity between him and Mo Hua. In fact, all the misfortune that had happened in Lone Mountain could, at its root, be traced back to Mo Hua.

If not for him, he would never have come to Lone Mountain. He wouldn't have been captured by those damned tomb raiders, dragged into this cursed tomb, and forced to endure all these humiliations and torments.

The source of all this—was Mo Hua.

He wished Mo Hua would just die already.

If I kill him in the dream… would he die in reality too?

Shen Qingsheng stared at the "childlike" Mo Hua with a venomous glint in his eyes.

But he hesitated.

The memory of Mo Hua ruthlessly turning the tables on Mister Pi was still vivid.

He had never once gained the upper hand against Mo Hua.

And even though Mo Hua looked weak now, there was a kind of calm and inscrutable composure about him.

Shen Qingsheng couldn't be sure whether or not to make a move.

Mo Hua, meanwhile, looked at him calmly, as if lost in thought. Then he asked:

"How much do you know about the Shen Family?"

"The Shen Family?"

"The Pit of Ten Thousand Corpses."

Shen Qingsheng's eyelid twitched.

"I'm only Foundation Establishment, barely past twenty. How would I know anything about the family's affairs...?"

Mo Hua nodded slightly.

The guilty have names. Debts have owners.

He no longer paid Shen Qingsheng any attention and instead walked straight toward the Dao Platform, which was filled with bronze statues and countless bound souls.

Shen Qingsheng exclaimed,

"Where are you going?!"

"Deeper into the temple."

"Is there a way out that way?"

"Possibly."

Shen Qingsheng didn't understand, but Mo Hua had always been cunning and intelligent. Even if this wasn't the exit, it was at least a path of survival.

And this place was crawling with hungry spirits ready to devour anything.

He didn't want to stay here, so he followed behind Mo Hua.

After a few steps, Mo Hua turned and looked at him.

"You're coming with me?"

Shen Qingsheng sneered,

"The path's right here. You can walk it—why can't I?"

Mo Hua glanced at him in silence, then nodded.

"Fine. You can come."

He pointed his finger, and a faint golden light manifested, forming wisps of divine mist and runic patterns. Part of it imprinted itself on Shen Qingsheng's body, and part of it on Mo Hua's own.

"This is a concealment formation to mask our aura," Mo Hua explained. "Don't break it. If it's damaged and your aura leaks out, you'll be swarmed by ghosts—and no one can save you."

Shen Qingsheng stared at the golden runes on his body in shock.

This little bastard Mo Hua… he can still draw formation runes even in a dream?! Thank the heavens I didn't try anything just now...

"Understood," he nodded.

Mo Hua continued forward into the depths of the Dao Platform.

He had already searched outside and found no trace of Elder Xun, Master Gu, or Inspector Fan.

Which meant… they must be deeper inside the temple.

And that, of course, was where the Demonic Fetus dwelled.

Let them be safe... Mo Hua silently prayed.

Thus, with Mo Hua leading and Shen Qingsheng trailing behind, the two made their way step by step through the golden Dao Platform, heading toward the deeper recesses of the divine temple.

Along the way, they passed countless bronze statues.

Each one was bound with souls—resentful, tormented, screaming souls being squeezed for every drop of pain and despair.

These spirits… seemed to faintly sense that the person responsible for their deep-rooted hatred and karmic grievance… was walking past.

But because of Mo Hua's divine mist formation, they couldn't sense Shen Qingsheng's aura.

So all they could do was roar and rage in maddened fury.

Their hatred ran as deep as blood.

Their anger brewed like a storm.

Shen Qingsheng grew more and more uneasy. Surrounded by grotesque bronze statues and snarling wraiths, he couldn't help but curse:

"These things… so ugly and filthy. What's the point of standing around here like this...?"

Mo Hua halted.

He slowly turned around and stared at Shen Qingsheng with a cold glint in his eyes.

"These… are the 'masterpieces' of your Shen Family."

Shen Qingsheng flinched.

"I don't know what you're talking about. What masterpieces?"

"Your father just now confessed to everything—word for word."

Shen Qingsheng froze.

"My father? What did he say?"

Mo Hua's gaze sharpened slightly. Then he remembered: when Shen Shouxing exposed the Shen Family's crimes, Shen Qingsheng had already been afflicted by the "Dao-Heart Demon Seed." He was dazed—he hadn't heard a thing.

So it seemed… Shen Qingsheng truly didn't know what his father had done back then.

Mo Hua didn't say anything more and continued walking.

Under the protection of the divine mist formation, they walked for a while longer. They were drawing closer to the exit of the Dao Platform. In the distance, the dragon-head gate of the Great Wilderness Divine Temple flickered into view.

But the surrounding yin energy only grew denser.

As if—because Shen Qingsheng was about to leave the Dao Platform unscathed—the spirits sensed that their century-long grievances and blood debts would never be repaid.

They went berserk with rage, howling in hatred.

They struggled madly, trying to rip free from the bronze bindings. Even when their soul-forms were torn, even when their limbs were shredded, they didn't stop.

The entire Dao Platform began to tremble.

The resentment surged like a tidal wave.

Then—snap!

One soul broke free of its bronze statue.

It was torn in half in the process, left with only its upper body, but still it snarled hideously and charged toward the two.

That was the first.

Then came the second, the third…

The sound of bronze bindings snapping echoed one after another.

More and more vengeful spirits broke free, howling and swarming together like a tide.

But with Mo Hua's divine mist concealing them, the spirits couldn't find their target. All they could do was rage blindly, filled with hatred.

The sky darkened with dense black clouds—billowing, overwhelming.

And within those clouds, driven by karma, an even stronger figure emerged— A third-grade wraith, with gnashing fangs and a savage face, began to take shape.

This wraith's perception far surpassed ordinary ghosts. It could faintly see through the divine mist… and glimpse the two figures hidden within.

The terror of death seized Shen Qingsheng's heart.

He trembled and screamed— "RUN!"

Shen Qingsheng shouted with a trembling voice—then took off in a mad sprint.

Mo Hua followed behind him.

All around, the countless vengeful spirits sensed a faint disturbance in aura and began to slowly sweep toward them.

But ultimately… they were too late.

In less than the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, Shen Qingsheng had already dashed out of the Dao Platform and stepped onto the divine temple's staircase—escaping the range of the spirits' murderous intent.

He let out a long breath of relief and turned around to look at Mo Hua—only for his face to instantly twist in terror.

"Mo Hua—behind you!!"

Mo Hua blinked, turned to look—

And before he could even see anything clearly, a sword tip pierced through his chest.

A longsword had pierced through the divine mist formation on his body… and skewered straight through his heart.

Mo Hua slowly turned his head to look at Shen Qingsheng.

Shen's face was contorted with hatred, savage and twisted.

"Die, you little bastard!"

Mo Hua's expression was one of confusion.

"Why…?"

"Why?" Shen Qingsheng sneered. "Why not?! I've wanted to kill you for a long time. You think I was just messing around with you this whole time?"

"Besides—maybe I don't know exactly what my father told you, but it's clear you've learned some of the Shen family's secrets. That means I definitely can't let you live."

Mo Hua's pupils contracted slightly.

"So you knew about everything the Shen family did… from the very start?"

"Aren't you asking the obvious?" Shen Qingsheng scoffed. "My father kept it from me, sure—but he thought I couldn't figure it out on my own?"

"It's just killing people. What's the big deal?"

"And besides, the ones we killed were those lowly mining cultivators. What's so bad about that?"

"Do the lives of servants even count as lives?"

Mo Hua's voice was calm.

"Did your father teach you all this?"

Shen Qingsheng sneered.

"Does anyone need to teach this kind of thing?"

"Who am I? I'm the legitimate heir of the Shen family! I was born above others!"

"And if you're born above others, you act like it."

"Those lowly commoners should bow and scrape before me. Even as dogs of the Shen family, they should know their place!"

"My father worked his fingers to the bone to give me this life—this is exactly what he wanted!"

"And what's funny is, after killing so many people, bathing his hands in blood just to earn his position as an Elder with real power—he has the gall to lecture me."

"Talking about walking the righteous path, cultivating with diligence, showing kindness, having sympathy for the weak…"

Shen Qingsheng let out a mocking laugh.

"I seriously don't know what the hell he was trying to teach me. All that self-righteous crap—does he not realize how ridiculous he sounds?"

"Those pathetic rogue cultivators lived in poverty all their lives. What's there to sympathize with?"

Mo Hua's eyes remained indifferent.

"The prosperity of your Shen family… the silk and brocade you wear… all of it was built atop their suffering."

Shen Qingsheng blinked, then let out a cold laugh.

"Then blame them for being useless. Poor or bitter, it's all just their fate. They brought it on themselves. What does any of that have to do with the Shen family?"

The moment he said that, the entire Dao Platform trembled.

Resentful spirits thickened, howling with piercing rage.

A colossal wrathful ghost began to materialize.

Mo Hua, still skewered through the chest, was suddenly shoved hard by Shen Qingsheng—right into the center of the Dao Platform, where resentment and death roared in full force.

"Since you care so much about those poor bastards who died in Lone Mountain," Shen Qingsheng sneered,

"then go be their meal!"

The divine mist formation around Mo Hua shattered.

His aura was now fully exposed. His chest was pierced by a sword—he could not escape.

His small body was immediately swarmed by a flood of malicious spirits.

The towering wrathful ghost loomed behind him, mouth gaping wide with bloodlust.

Shen Qingsheng's grin grew wider, more triumphant.

But then—in the blink of an eye, that grin froze.

And was slowly replaced with abject terror.

Before his eyes, the countless vengeful spirits were howling and circling around Mo Hua like a tidal wave, enough to engulf all.

Yet not a single one dared to get close.

Even the massive wrathful ghost, mouth wide open before Mo Hua, suddenly seemed to sense something—and in its grotesque eyes… a flicker of fear emerged. It began to back away.

Ghosts screamed, shadows churned.

And in their midst… that small and fragile figure stood motionless, untouched by a single ghost.

As if he were a little King Yama, lord of the underworld, suppressing the entire ghost realm.

A bone-deep chill crept up Shen Qingsheng's spine. His pupils dilated.

He turned and tried to flee.

But a golden flash streaked past.

A golden sword pierced through his thigh, nailing him to the ground.

Shen Qingsheng struggled, but the more he thrashed, the more it hurt. He quickly turned his head in panic.

Mo Hua's expression was calm.

He pulled out the sword Shen Qingsheng had stabbed him with—gripped it with his fingers—and crushed it to powder.

"Your Dao Heart… has already rotted."

Shen Qingsheng's face filled with dread.

Mo Hua extended his pale hand and grabbed at the air.

A bluish light, tinged with blood and killing aura, emerged.

A suffocating Water Prison Technique formed, binding Shen Qingsheng completely, dragging him inch by inch…

…back into the hungry mouths of the vengeful spirits.

"Your father's sins—you can start paying for them."

In that moment, throughout Lone Mountain, thousands of wronged souls who had died in agony went still.

Then—

They howled with glee.

Dark winds reversed.

The entire ghost realm trembled in frenzy.

(End of this Chapter)