Chapter 1014: Zhang Lan

Elder Zhang turned his head and shot over a cold glare.

The green-robed cultivator instantly felt his scalp go numb. He rose to his feet, brushed his robe, cupped his hands, and apologized, “Junior was discourteous.”

Elder Feng smiled kindly.

Elder Zhang said, “The youngster was out of line, Elder, please don’t take offense.”

“It’s nothing…” Elder Feng waved his hand, studied the green-robed cultivator for a moment, and asked, “And this is…?”

The green-robed cultivator saluted and said, “Junior, Zhang Lan.”

“Zhang Lan…”

Elder Feng pondered. Seeing him dressed in green, with a refined bearing, a gaze both free-spirited and steady, not yet of great age yet already at Golden Core cultivation, he couldn’t help but admire and praise:

“Just like your name—talented and gallant, with a heart as vast as the seas. The Zhang Clan truly produces remarkable people…”

Elder Zhang waved a hand dismissively. “Brother Feng, you flatter him. This brat has always been unruly—no matter where he goes, he never has a proper demeanor.”

Of course, though he said this, there was still a trace of satisfaction in his eyes.

He had watched Zhang Lan grow up.

Previously, he had only thought the boy lazy, undisciplined, acting without consistency, and unlikely to achieve much.

But after going out to temper himself, Zhang Lan—though no one knew what he had gone through—had become far more steady, able to calm his mind and cultivate in earnest. His cultivation had advanced by leaps and bounds, worthy of his outstanding talent.

Elder Feng poured tea for Elder Zhang.

A young servant also stepped forward respectfully and refilled Zhang Lan’s cup.

“Have some tea,” Elder Feng said, making an inviting gesture.

Elder Zhang nodded. “Much obliged.”

The two elders then continued chatting—about changes in the sects, old friendships, Qianxue customs, and the origins of the geniuses of the age.

The rest of the Zhang clan sat quietly on the side, listening.

Zhang Lan also sat with head bowed, respectfully listening—yet in his heart, waves were surging.

Mo Hua?

Had he heard that right?

The Qianxue genius Elder Feng had just mentioned, the leader in the Dao of Formations… was Mo Hua?

Zhang Lan found it inconceivable.

Was this the same Mo Hua he knew?

This was the fifth-rank Qianxue Great State—a place where noble families gathered, sects were everywhere, and top-grade talents were as common as dogs. Geniuses walked the streets… And yet, he’d managed to make a name for himself here?

And not just any name—mid Foundation Establishment, peak nineteen-pattern divine sense, overwhelming four great sects, taking the top in the Dao of Formations…

This was absurd. You wouldn’t dare write it like this in a storybook.

Zhang Lan frowned, musing to himself:

“Same name?”

“This Mo Hua isn’t the Mo Hua I know?”

But then… wasn’t it too much of a coincidence to meet two people named ‘Mo Hua’?

Moreover, Elder Feng had said this Mo Hua’s divine sense was strong, skilled in spells, and adept at concealment…

That was clearly the same Mo Hua he knew—only upgraded. No, the max-spec version of Mo Hua.

But to say the two Mo Huas were the same person…

Zhang Lan just couldn’t quite believe it.

And the more he thought about it, the harder it was to believe.

“I’ll have to find a chance to see… whether it’s really that kid Mo Hua,” Zhang Lan thought silently.

On the other side, Elder Zhang and Elder Feng kept talking.

The years of cultivation were long; the life of a cultivator was long. Add to that the vastness of the Nine Provinces, with distant mountains and long roads, and many old friends would go decades, centuries, even several centuries without meeting.

Many kin and friends would unknowingly see each other for the last time in life.

Time was long, fortune and misfortune unpredictable, life and death separating them.

Next time they met—if fate allowed—they might only be able to pour a thin cup of wine before a grave to offer comfort.

Thus, when old friends reunited, words inevitably flowed.

Gradually, the years of unfamiliarity faded, and their tones grew warmer.

Elder Feng, reminiscing, sighed:

“The Feng and Zhang clans are family friends. Back when we studied together in Qianxue, we were of like mind. We formed our cores around the same time. Now you’ve already reached Nascent Soul and stand as a True Person, while this old bag of bones is still stuck at late Golden Core. Truly shameful…”

Elder Zhang shook his head. “Brother Feng, you overstate it.

“The Heavenly Way has its patterns, fullness and emptiness their cycles, fortune and misfortune their times. A person’s cultivation path is unpredictable in its ups and downs.

“All we can do is perform good deeds without worrying about the outcome.

“When the time is ripe, success comes naturally. If not, then keep cultivating. Cultivate until old age. The rest, leave to fate.

“Whether success or failure, fortune or disaster—that’s not ours to control…”

Elder Feng savored the words for a long time, his mood settling, and nodded.

“Brother, you are right. I’ve been impatient…”

They discussed cultivation insights further.

Elder Zhang shared his experiences in reaching Nascent Soul, withholding nothing.

Elder Feng listened intently and gained much.

Before they knew it, the night deepened. Elder Feng finally realized and, with an apologetic look, said:

“When you get to my age, once I start talking, it doesn’t end. I nearly forgot you’ve just traveled far—you should rest early.”

“Such weariness is nothing to a cultivator,” Elder Zhang replied.

Even so, Elder Feng was not without tact.

“The cave dwellings are ready. Please rest for now.

“Tomorrow at noon, I’ll take you to watch the Sword Debate Grand Assembly, to witness this Qianxue spectacle and the bearing of its geniuses…”

Elder Zhang nodded. “Thank you.”

Then young servants led everyone to their lodgings.

The Zhang clan members all saluted Elder Feng in thanks.

After such a long journey, they were indeed exhausted—most fell asleep the moment they touched the bed.

Zhang Lan had been sleepy too, but after hearing the name “Mo Hua,” he tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

Thus, when he got up the next morning, he still wore a face of laziness and fatigue.

On an ordinary day, Elder Zhang would have given him a long lecture:

That a cultivator cultivates the body and spiritual power, but also essence, energy, and spirit.

If the spirit is unsettled and the qi restless, and one doesn’t know how to nurture life and nature, how can one devote oneself to the Dao?

But given they were guests at the Feng Clan and had indeed traveled hard, Elder Zhang said nothing.

Besides, today there was an important matter—

They were going to watch the Sword Debate.

Elder Feng had specially prepared a table of spirit delicacies and fine wines to welcome Elder Zhang and the Zhang clan juniors, a feast to wash away the dust of travel.

Afterwards, the group set off for Mount Lundao.

Along the way, in the bustling streets, Elder Feng pointed out the famous sights and grand mountain halls of Qianxue State.

Occasionally, rays of light flashed across the sky, and a Nascent Soul cultivator soared past, stirring the clouds into waves.

The Zhang clan juniors were deeply shocked.

Even Elder Zhang sighed:

“Our Zhang Clan is a fourth-rank noble family. In Canglan State, we stand alone, with no fewer than ten Nascent Soul True Persons. One could call us a major power.

“But here in Qianxue, where Nascent Souls fill the sky, compared to these noble families of lavish splendor, we are but minor in comparison.”

“Brother Zhang, no need for false modesty,” Elder Feng said, shaking his head. “Qianxue State is an extraordinary great state. Even among fifth-rank states, it stands at the top.

“And as the saying goes, a strong dragon does not crush a local snake.

“Within Qianxue, no matter how many and how strong the noble families, they are confined to this land.

“Unlike the Zhang Clan, which dominates its own territory.”

There were many fourth- and fifth-rank families in Qianxue.

But when anything becomes too common, its value lessens.

Many ordinary fifth-rank families here might not wield as much power or influence as an isolated, region-ruling, long-standing fourth-rank family elsewhere in the Nine Provinces.

When the sky is high and the emperor far away, local authority grows heavy—that’s the truth of it.

Thus, while the Zhang Clan might not be a strong dragon, it was a mighty local snake—indeed, the only snake dominating its region.

In Qianxue, they might not amount to much, but in Cang State, an order from the Zhang Clan might carry more weight than an edict from the Dao Court.

The cultivation world was vast; more friends meant more paths.

Even if Elder Feng had no personal ties with Elder Zhang, he wouldn’t dare slight the Zhang Clan.

Moreover, as a fourth-rank family, the Zhang Clan was bound by state limits—within its own state, it had no Hollow Void cultivators.

But that didn’t mean there were no Zhang Clan Hollow Void Patriarchs in other states, secluded in sects or scenic mountains.

The Zhang Clan simply kept a low profile and never spoke of it.

The two men chatted idly about Qianxue’s grand event, and after an hour, they entered Mount Lundao.

The mountain was full of cultivators.

The noise was deafening, the place like a sea of people—overwhelming to the senses.

“Brother Zhang, this way please.”

Elder Feng led the way, Elder Zhang and his people following.

“By coincidence…” Elder Feng said with a trace of pride, “today the Xiaoyao Sect has a member of my Feng Clan participating in the Sword Debate. He is the most talented of his generation in spirit roots and comprehension.

“And his opponent is one of the Eight Great Sects—Great Void Sect. Great Void Sect has the sword genius Linghu Xiao, and also… the one I mentioned before, who likes to use low-level spells to toy with others, the talented but without virtue leader in the Dao of Formations—Mo Hua.”

“Oh?” Elder Zhang’s eyes lit up, and he nodded. “If so, then this trip is indeed worth it.”

He then turned to the Zhang juniors and instructed:

“I brought you to Qianxue to see the Sword Debate Grand Assembly, to see what the true clash of geniuses looks like.

“In the clan, you may have some talent, but in the vast Nine Provinces and the grand land of Qianxue, your gifts are like fireflies under the noonday sun—utterly insignificant.

“There is always a higher sky, always someone greater.

“You must keep humility in your hearts. Watch carefully. Learn well.”

These words were mainly aimed at the more gifted Foundation Establishment juniors.

Golden Core Zhang Lan wasn’t among them—

Yet when Elder Zhang spoke, he glanced at Zhang Lan from the corner of his eye, clearly also hinting at him.

“Yes, Elder,” the Zhang juniors replied in unison.

Zhang Lan’s expression was complicated, but he cupped his hands with the others.

Hearing that the Feng Clan genius would be dueling this “Mo Hua,” Zhang Lan felt a sudden anticipation—along with an inexplicable nervousness.

The Sword Debate viewing platforms of Qianxue were vast and layered.

At this moment, they were packed with cultivators.

Different groups had different sections—foreign cultivators, visiting families and sects, local cultivators, local families, elders of Qianxue’s sects and their disciples, and even high pavilions for special guests—each had its own area.

Though the crowds were immense, boundaries were clear.

The Feng Clan, being from Xun State, was considered an outside family, but thanks to its close ties with the Xiaoyao Sect—sharing even techniques—they had special seating on Mount Lundao.

Elder Feng led Elder Zhang’s group to the Feng Clan’s seats, where they all sat down.

He had refreshments served, tending to every courtesy.

Elder Zhang thanked him, and the group sat quietly, sipping tea as they waited for the debate to begin.

After three rounds of tea, a flash of light appeared in the sky.

A massive magical image—Fangtian Painting—spanned heaven and earth, unfolding like a vast colored scroll before the crowd.

The Zhang clan members gazed upward, awed.

Such a huge spiritual artifact was something they had never seen.

After a while, colors condensed on the painting, revealing mountains, rivers, and the figures of young geniuses.

“It’s begun…” Elder Feng said.

The painting’s scenes shifted suddenly—disciples of various sects dueling according to different formats, clashing in swordplay, crossing spells, even trading blows that shook the earth apart.

Different sects, different heritages, different techniques—various geniuses together weaving a dazzling tapestry of combat.

The Zhang clan members watched without blinking, marveling aloud.

Even Elder Zhang sighed. “Qianxue truly is rich with talent…”

Elder Feng nodded.

“This is the ‘Xuan’ tier of the debate. Any sect disciple who reaches this level is no nameless figure—they are pillars within their sects.

“But this is just the appetizer. The next match is the real show.”

“Xiaoyao Sect versus Great Void Sect.”

“The most talented disciple of my Feng Family in this generation will face against the prodigy of the Great Void Sect.”

Elder Feng’s voice was full of satisfaction.

Elder Zhang nodded, his expression growing more and more expectant.

Sitting behind him, Zhang Lan unknowingly became even more nervous.

The Sword Debate continued.

Elder Zhang and Elder Feng chatted idly.

But Zhang Lan had no heart to listen—his eyes were fixed on the massive Fangtian Shadow Screen, waiting for that disciple to appear and confirm the guess in his heart.

He didn’t know how long he had waited before the duels on the screen one by one came to an end.

The disciples in the debates also left the stage one after another.

Finally, the shadow screen blurred, colors smudged like wet ink, and then the picture reappeared, showing another set of Sword Debate matches—

—along with the figures of another group of sect prodigies.

Elder Feng, face full of pride, pointed to one section of the screen.

“Brother Dao, among those white-robed disciples of the Carefree Sect, the one at the lead is my Feng Family’s prodigy—Feng Zichen.”

Elder Zhang followed his finger, and sure enough saw a white-clothed youth standing with sword in hand, dashing as the wind, with sword brows and starry eyes filled with youthful boldness and high spirits.

“A fine young man—truly extraordinary,” Elder Zhang sincerely praised.

Elder Feng smiled proudly yet replied with humility, “Brother Dao flatters me.”

While the two elders were admiring this Feng Family prodigy of the Carefree Sect—

Zhang Lan’s gaze, as if drawn by a magnet, shifted to the other side—

—to the ranks of the Great Void Sect opposite them, where, at the center of five disciples, stood a not-so-tall youth, shielded by his companions, with a face both unfamiliar and yet achingly familiar…

Brows like painted strokes, features delicate and untainted by dust.

Eyes like deep pools—bright, yet not without depth.

An air of endearing warmth, tinged with calm composure, a trace of liveliness, and a glimmer of mischief…

In that instant, Zhang Lan’s scalp tingled, his heart surging like boiling water.

“Mo Hua…”

Memories of Tongxian City surged up like tides—

The first time they met, that simply dressed yet strikingly handsome little boy sprawled in a food shop, flipping through obscure formation books, nearly making him lose face—an impish and eccentric child…

The little friend who drank and ate meat with him.

The brat who stumbled into Black Mountain Village and caused no small amount of trouble.

The astonishingly talented young formation master who helped the weak and saved others.

They had searched mountains together, hunted evil cultivators together, encircled and killed bandits together, even built a grand formation together to fight a great demon…

One scene after another flooded his mind.

That lively, adorable, clever figure overlapped perfectly with the refined youth now on the Fangtian Shadow Screen.

Mo Hua.

Zhang Lan’s chest felt tight, a faint ache in his heart.

He hadn’t expected that, since parting ways in Tongxian City, ten years had passed—and he would meet Mo Hua again like this.

He took a deep breath, finding it hard to believe.

He pinched his thigh hard.

It hurt.

Not a dream…

He slowly let out a breath.

Meanwhile, Elder Feng began speaking of Mo Hua:

“The strongest disciple of the Great Void Sect over there is the swordsman in front—Linghu Xiao.”

“Linghu Xiao was originally an unprecedented sword genius from the Chongxu Sect. Later, when three sects merged, he entered the Great Void Sect—count them lucky.”

“And behind Linghu Xiao, that shortest one, is the ‘Mo Hua’ I mentioned to you earlier…”

“This boy is extremely clever, with exceptional spiritual sense.”

“His talent in formations is even more remarkable.”

“Unfortunately… his reputation is terrible…”

Elder Zhang frowned. “Why is his reputation terrible?”

Elder Feng said, “He has a vile temperament—likes to use low-level spells to toy with people. Extremely cunning, always using trickery to harm others, employing nasty little spells to disgust people.”

“Talented, yes, but with no virtue at all.”

“Worst of all, he favors killing people with ‘Fireball Technique,’ taking pleasure in humiliating others…”

“Such a thing!” Elder Zhang exclaimed. “Truly shameless.”

Zhang Lan: “…”

If not for the difference in seniority making it improper to speak, he’d have said a few words to defend Mo Hua’s innocence.

Could Mo Hua really be such a person?

Mo Hua, he…

Zhang Lan froze slightly, then fell into thought… and silence.

After thinking for a long time, he realized…

Mo Hua might actually… be exactly such a person?

From his own perspective, Mo Hua was clearly a good kid, a good youth—just one who acted unconventionally at times and could be a headache.

But from others’ perspectives… all they would see was “a headache.”

At this moment, it was obvious Elder Feng wasn’t the only one speaking ill of Mo Hua. Zhang Lan pricked up his ears and heard the surrounding cultivators brimming with indignation:

“This Mo Hua is truly despicable…”

“How many matches has he been playing that same Concealment Technique? No one can stop him?”

“A perfectly good Qianxue Sword Debate, a clash of prodigies, and he’s turned it into a game of hide-and-seek—does that sound right?”

“Exactly!?”

“It’s a shame that, so far, countless sect geniuses and young heroes have all fallen into the hands of this despicable villain—truly hateful!”

“And my Fairy Lu’s face—how dare he blow it up with a Fireball Technique?!?”

“Someone, chop down this fiend with one sword, and I’ll call him big brother on the spot.”

“If big brother’s not enough, I’ll call him foster father…”

…

Zhang Lan’s expression turned blank; he said nothing for a long while, but in his heart he began to consider—

From now on… should I just pretend I don’t know Mo Hua?

Just then, the disciples of both sides took their positions, and the Sword Debate began.

Elder Feng spoke with eager anticipation: “This Mo Hua truly invites hatred—countless talented youths have fallen to him before.”

“But today is different—this time, no matter how many tricks he has, he’s bound to suffer, Brother Zhang…”

Elder Feng looked at Elder Zhang with a magnanimous tone:

“Today, watch as my Feng Family’s prodigy cuts him down with the sword, winning cheers from all and fulfilling the will of the people.”

Elder Zhang nodded gladly. “That would be excellent!”

Zhang Lan instinctively shrank back, lips tightly shut, not daring to say a word.

(End of this Chapter)