Immortality Through Array Formations (The Quest for Immortality)

Chapter 990 – Rebirth

With the Sword Conference fast approaching, the atmosphere in the Taixu Sect suddenly tightened.

Everyone, from the top elders down to the outer disciples, felt as if a taut string had been strung in their hearts.

Even Venerable Elder Xun hadn't shown his face in quite some time.

Now, every single array class—from lesson planning to teaching to grading—was handled solely by Mo Hua.

Venerable Elder Xun had become a hands-off overseer, sitting quietly among the elders, wholly immersed day and night in some mysterious calculation.

Even the Sect Master of Taixu was no longer as idle.

Mo Hua, while feeding the big white dog, had caught sight of the Sect Master a few times and noticed he looked a little worn out—his once-thick black hair had finally begun to fall.

As for the other elders, every one of them rushed about, their expressions grave, all busy preparing the various aspects of the Sword Conference.

But the most nervous of all… were the disciples.

Because it was they who would compete in the Sword Conference.

Sect honor, family benefit, personal future—everything hinged on this one grand tournament.

It felt like everyone had a boulder suspended above their hearts. Or worse, a boulder pressing on their hearts, making it hard to breathe.

Amid the tense training and sparring, the disciples became increasingly solemn and serious.

Even during meals, barely a word was spoken.

Midday, in the disciples' residence.

Mo Hua munched on a chicken leg, glancing left and right, and noticed that the once-bustling and lively dining hall now seemed covered in frost—everyone was hunched over their food, eating in complete silence. He couldn't help shaking his head.

This isn't good.

Such a heavy atmosphere… surely causes indigestion.

Mo Hua turned to look at Cheng Mo beside him.

The once-chatty Cheng Mo was now truly "silent"—face tight, chewing on a pork knuckle like it was sawdust.

Mo Hua handed him a chicken leg.

Cheng Mo blinked, then looked up and saw it was Mo Hua. He nodded and said softly, "Thanks, Little Senior Brother."

Mo Hua asked, "How's your sword training for the conference going?"

Cheng Mo nodded, "Alright…"

But his tone lacked conviction. Clearly, he wasn't very confident.

Mo Hua was puzzled. "Didn't you have solid foundations? Even you aren't confident?"

Cheng Mo was feeling the pressure and didn't really want to talk, but since Mo Hua asked, he couldn't ignore him. After thinking for a moment, he sighed:

"Little Senior Brother, truth be told, my cultivation—whether it's physical strength or Dao techniques—doesn't really have any weak points. In the Cheng Family, I'm second to none."

"But this is Dryscholar Prefecture. Only the top-tier disciples even make it into the Four Sects and Eight Schools. My talent? Average at best. I'm just tough-skinned—that's all I've got over others."

"When it comes to real swordplay, competing with the Heaven's Chosen of each sect... I really don't have much of an edge."

He lacked confidence.

Nearby, Situ Jian and a few others nodded in agreement.

In their respective families, they were all undoubtedly top talents.

Anywhere else in the Nine Provinces, they'd be once-in-a-century prodigies.

Even the average Taixu disciple, if tossed into Mo Hua's home region—the Dablack Mountain Prefecture—would be an absolute sensation.

But now, all these Heaven's Chosen were gathered in the same place.

And when everyone is top-tier… no one stands out anymore.

It wasn't that Cheng Mo and the others were weak.

It was that everyone around them… was stronger.

There's always a sky beyond the sky. Always someone stronger.

Their "genius" had merely gotten them through the door of Dryscholar Prefecture.

Mo Hua felt a twinge of emotion.

Good thing he had achieved Dao through spiritual consciousness—basically slipped in through the backdoor thanks to a freakish coincidence.

Otherwise, with his original aptitude, he wouldn't have even qualified to enter Dryscholar Prefecture, let alone join Taixu Sect or be Cheng Mo's "Little Senior Brother."

Mo Hua did a mental count. Right now in Taixu Sect, the only one who could truly be called a top-tier genius...

...was Xiao Xiao, the one "merged" into their sect from elsewhere.

Linghu Xiao, disciple of the Chongxu lineage.

Her sword heart was pure and bright, and her sword Dao talent was said to be a once-in-five-centuries prodigy—even within Chongxu Sect's history.

Had the three-sect merger not happened, even this lone genius wouldn't have ended up in Taixu Sect.

Mo Hua felt a little disappointed.

But thinking it through—it made sense.

Top talents were naturally drawn to the top sects.

The rest trickled down to the Eight Schools.

The Four Great Sects hoarded the best—so they kept winning at Sword Conferences.

And because they kept winning, they kept attracting the best.

Whatever they didn't want… went to the Eight Schools, the Twelve Streams, and the other hundreds of minor sects.

In that environment, it was very hard for Taixu—or any of the Eight—to recruit truly elite talent.

"Not just spirit stones and inheritances… even talent is being stratified."

Mo Hua sighed internally.

The only odd case had been three years ago—Tai'a Sect.

At the time, Tai'a was top of the Eight Schools. It had a strong reputation and two or three elite geniuses.

But geniuses often came with arrogance. They were young, proud, hot-blooded.

And after the Rouge Boat Incident, those few were disqualified from the Sword Conference entirely.

Tai'a lost badly that year… and had never recovered since.

Now, on paper, Taixu Sect had "merged" with Tai'a and Chongxu. Theoretically, they had all that talent pooled together.

But in reality, most of the "sharpest tips" had been lopped off before the merger.

So in terms of strength, they weren't that much better than Tai'a at its peak.

In fact, arguably, they were even weaker.

They just had more people now, that's all.

Mo Hua frowned.

Looking at it this way, the situation for Taixu Sect in the coming Sword Conference… really didn't look good.

No wonder the Sect Master's losing hair…

"No… it's worse than just 'not good.'"

Mo Hua suddenly realized something.

Back then, Tai'a was the "visible branch"—the first to be targeted by the Four Sects.

Chongxu was the buffer in the middle—sharing some of the heat.

Taixu, being at the bottom, had the least pressure.

But now, Taixu had absorbed both Tai'a and Chongxu.

They had essentially collected all the firepower aimed at them—and placed it squarely on their own head.

All the pressure… now rested on one sect.

Facing the full force of the Four Great Sects alone.

The situation was dire—practically suicidal.

Mo Hua started to feel genuinely sorry for the Sect Master.

"After the Sword Conference, I wonder how much hair the Sect Master will have left…"

He began mourning the man's scalp.

Seeing that Cheng Mo was still frowning, Mo Hua consoled him:

"Just do your best. Don't put too much pressure on yourself."

Cheng Mo smiled bitterly, "Little Senior Brother… I get it. I do. But this kind of pressure… you can't just turn it off."

It was the Sword Conference. Who wouldn't be nervous?

Mo Hua asked, "Are you aiming for champion?"

Cheng Mo gave a helpless look. "Who doesn't want it? But… I'm just not that good. I'll be happy with a decent ranking."

Mo Hua blinked, "And what can you do with a good ranking?"

Cheng Mo's eyes suddenly lit up, like someone injected spiritual chicken blood into his veins. He spoke excitedly:

"Plenty!"

"First, the sect gives major merit point rewards—can be exchanged for resources, inheritances, or a promotion to Inner Sect. All of that's huge!"

"Even if you don't get promoted, you return home covered in glory! This is a ranking from Dryscholar Prefecture! My clan's Ancestor will look at me with real approval."

"Even bragging outside—it's legit bragging. One word from you and others lower their heads!"

Mo Hua looked confused. "It's really that awesome?"

Cheng Mo nodded fiercely, "Of course!"

Mo Hua frowned. "But I won first in the array path, and… it didn't feel that amazing?"

Cheng Mo's breath caught in his throat.

He didn't want to talk to Mo Hua anymore.

The other disciples were also speechless.

Little Senior Brother was great in every way, except his words could be so infuriating.

Still, after that exchange, everyone seemed to relax a little.

Mo Hua asked the others, "Are you guys also hoping to win just to impress your families?"

"Of course! If you're not showing off, what kind of youth are you?"

"Well, it's not just showing off—there are tons of benefits..."

The mood lightened, and more people joined the conversation.

"I just want to make my family proud. If I get a good rank, my parents can finally hold their heads high. My dad always said, 'My greatest achievement in life… is having you as my son.'"

"I just want to earn some merit points. My cultivation technique burns through resources like crazy…"

"My parents said—if I rank high, I'll have a good reputation, and they'll help arrange a great marriage for me."

"Do your parents realize how hard this is? Sword Conference vs. matchmaking? Come on."

"Only someone who's never tried matchmaking would say that…"

…

There were also some, born into big clans, but with rough families: "My dad's a gambler. My mom remarried. I can't rely on anyone.I have to fight for my own future!"

Someone nearby echoed: "Exactly. I also want to give it my all, to carve out a place for myself in Qianxue Prefecture with my own strength. If I fail…"

He looked visibly frustrated.

"Then I'll have no choice but to go back, marry some 'suitable' woman my parents arranged, and inherit the family head position…"

The group fell into stunned silence.

"Thanks. We're not friends anymore," the previous disciple muttered flatly.

"C'mon, it's just a small clan, only fourth-tier. Why so salty?"

"We're done. Don't talk to me again…"

…

Bit by bit, the atmosphere lightened. Everyone seemed to breathe a little easier, and some of the pressure visibly lifted.

Then, Cheng Mo glanced at Mo Hua and asked in a low voice:

"Senior Brother, are you going to take part in the Sword Debate Grand Assembly too?"

Mo Hua thought for a moment.

"I probably will."

"You aiming for a ranking too? Planning to go home and show off?" Cheng Mo grinned.

"That…" Mo Hua fell into a contemplative silence.

"Nonsense! Senior Brother isn't that shallow!" Situ Jian protested indignantly.

"What do you mean 'shallow'?" Cheng Mo bristled. "If you make it big and don't go home to show off, it's like wearing fancy robes and walking in the dark—no one sees it. It's human nature."

"He's right," another disciple chimed in.

"True, but I'm sure Senior Brother has deeper intentions…"

"Probably to enter the inner sect through the Assembly and eventually become an elder!"

"What are you talking about? With Senior Brother's standing, he doesn't need to compete for the inner sect."

"Then maybe he wants to earn merit points?"

"Do you know how many merit points Senior Brother has right now?"

"How many?"

"So many that even he doesn't know the exact number…"

"Rumor has it that the Grand Elder locked Senior Brother's merit record just so the rest of us wouldn't damage our Dao hearts seeing it…"

"That can't be true…"

"Then maybe he's aiming for a high rank to find a good Dao companion!"

"Nonsense! Senior Brother needs to look for a Dao companion?" a disciple said solemnly. "Not to brag, but I have a younger sister—high-grade spirit root, beautiful, just the right age…"

Before he could finish, someone shouted from nearby:

"Lu Zhenming! Last time I asked about your sister, you said she was too young and refused!"

"She's my real sister! I can't just toss her into a fire pit!"

"Oh? Oh?! Brother, explain to me right now—what the hell do you mean by 'fire pit'?!"

…

As the laughter and bickering continued, the dining hall felt even more lively.

Meanwhile, Mo Hua was quietly deep in thought.

Although most of what was said was in jest, there was truth to their words.

"Why am I entering the Qianxue Sword Debate Grand Assembly?"

It was a question worth pondering—one that deserved a serious answer.

That night, back at the disciples' residence, Mo Hua was still considering it.

Other disciples sought high rankings—for fame, for family interests, for merit points, to enter the inner sect, or even to get a good marriage…

But what about him?

Fame? He was already plenty famous.

Being in the spotlight wasn't necessarily a good thing—"the rafters that stick out get the first rot," and "the fattest pig gets slaughtered first." His fame could become a liability.

He didn't lack merit, nor was he aiming for the inner sect.

He was a rogue cultivator, had no family legacy to uphold, no clan head position waiting.

As for marriage…

That was a matter for the distant future—no need to worry about it now.

Besides, with what he knew about his Senior Sister…

If he really did participate, she'd probably worry about whether he got hurt, not what ranking he earned.

Rankings didn't change the fact that he was her junior.

Mo Hua tallied it all up—and found that, truthfully, he had no real need to participate.

The only possible draw was the reward for first place.

But he'd already seen what that reward was:

One was a top-tier technique from the Four Sects or Eight Schools—winner's choice.

Another was a top-tier Dao method, also winner's choice.

There were also some sect treasures, supreme-grade pills, talismans, and the like.

All excellent rewards—but they were made for true Heaven's Chosen, not someone with Mo Hua's shallow foundations.

Many of those techniques, with his spiritual root, he wasn't even qualified to learn.

So then, his only reason to participate would be to help Venerable Elder Xun and the Great Void Sect through this crisis.

He did, after all, owe them deeply.

And—maybe, just maybe—to help the Sect Leader keep a few more hairs on his head…

But that was it. He wouldn't go all out.

More importantly, Elder Xun had been right: participating in the debate would expose every single one of Mo Hua's trump cards to public scrutiny.

And many of his trump cards… couldn't stand the light of day.

If he didn't use them, he wasn't strong enough to compete at this level.

This wasn't a game—this was a brutal clash of top-tier geniuses from across the realm.

Mo Hua wasn't so naive as to think he could win a high ranking without going all in.

Even if he did go all out and burned every last trump card he had—there was no guarantee he'd make it to the end.

Too hard. Too risky. Too little reward.

After much deliberation, Mo Hua could only helplessly conclude:

The best path was to just coast.

Do what he could to help the Great Void Sect climb a few spots in ranking—and that was it.

No need to aim higher.

He sighed softly.

Even after running multiple calculations, even using causal deduction methods, the result was always the same—coasting was the best option.

Mo Hua's excitement dimmed.

But it was what it was. Causality had spoken.

There was no point in being unrealistic.

Once he accepted that, his heart grew calmer. He regarded the upcoming Sword Debate Grand Assembly with detachment.

While the other disciples were pouring their hearts into their training…

Mo Hua continued as always—practicing Forbidden Arrays, refining his formation theories.

The days passed quietly, like flowing water.

…

Meanwhile, in Dao Prefecture…

The Celestial Pivot Pavilion.

Amid swirling clouds and mist, within a high pavilion cloaked in obscurity, a white-haired elder of the pavilion was still dozing off.

In the hazy fog, the elder looked utterly at peace in his slumber.

No one knew how long had passed before the elder finally stirred, lifting his cloudy yet abyss-deep eyes toward the chessboard in front of him.

The board was made of withered wood—nothing extraordinary—but reflected in the elder's murky eyes, faint light flowed upon its surface, as if the mysteries of heaven were unfolding, with fate and karma weaving together.

The elder stared at the board, his voice like an ancient temple bell, slowly murmuring:

"The board is set, the pieces are in place... but something's still missing."

The chess pieces were all dead—moving only along predetermined lines.

Naturally, the chessboard itself was a dead formation, still and without waves.

What it needed was a variable, a "living piece", to breathe life into the whole situation...

So then... who had the caliber to become that living piece?

The elder's gaze grew deep, spiritual will surging as streams of karma shifted endlessly.

At the same time, his withered fingers reached into the chess jar, groping for a moment before pinching out a perfectly ordinary black piece.

A glimmer of surprise flickered in the elder's eyes, even he finding it rather strange.

"Such a grand chessboard... could someone really serve as the living piece?"

Curious, he rolled the piece between his fingers, his gaze filled with crisscrossing lines of fate, trying to deduce the identity of this "living piece."

But after a moment, he gave up.

Because—if it was truly a living piece, it couldn't be calculated. Once it was known, it would become a dead piece.

"Forget it... it doesn't matter."

"If there's a fish, it needs bait. Only then will it move on its own…"

But what bait?

The elder began another round of deduction, pondering how to fish.

All the myriad techniques of the Celestial Pivot Pavilion flowed through his mind like water—but karma showed not the slightest ripple…

He skipped past techniques and began considering Dao arts, pills, talismans, formations...

But no matter how he calculated—no matter how precious the inheritance—none of them could lure this "fish."

The elder's expression remained calm, unsurprised.

In a game of this magnitude, one who could act as the variable—a living piece—was definitely not ordinary. It had to be a great fish.

And for a great fish, ordinary bait just wouldn't do.

So, he raised the level again, browsing the Pavilion's secret inheritances for something suitable as bait.

This time, karma did stir—slightly.

But only slightly.

The great fish merely sniffed the karmic current, its interest faintly piqued, before returning to its original state—restraining desire, sinking back into the depths to slumber once more.

Finally, the elder looked a little stunned.

"Even that didn't work?"

"What an immense sense of pride…"

"Am I trying to catch a fish… or a dragon?"

He winced in pain, muttering,

"You can't catch a wolf without sacrificing the child…"

With a pained expression, he gritted his teeth and reached directly through the void, searching through the ancient, sealed inheritances of the Celestial Pivot Pavilion.

Line after line of extraordinary names flashed before his eyes. After flipping through them for a while, he finally found one glowing with golden karma.

The inheritance shimmered with dazzling cause and effect, condensed into radiant gold.

That meant—if he used this inheritance as bait, it was certain to hook the great fish.

The elder unsealed the ancient inheritance.

It was a plain, unadorned jade slip, engraved with five archaic, enigmatic characters:

"Yin-Yang Rebirth Array".

These five words carried a primal aura—of heaven and earth splitting apart, of yin and yang in flux, of life and death reversing.

The very room seemed to freeze.

The elder's expression slowly solidified. His gaze turned frighteningly deep.

Yin-Yang Rebirth…

Whose "rebirth"?

Could it be… A storm of emotions rippled through his once-still heart.

And in his eyes—depths as vast as the abyss.

(End of this Chapter)