Chapter 1016: Flowing Water Step?

It wasn’t just Feng Zichen—by this point, nearly every cultivator outside the arena had already seen it.

They stared at Mo Hua within the sword debate arena—his figure graceful and natural as flowing water, moving beneath a dense, airtight storm of sword-light slaughter without so much as a single corner of his robe being torn. An indescribable shock welled up in their hearts.

This shock stuck in their throats, leaving them unable to utter a word.

A top-tier movement technique?!

This Mo Hua actually possessed a peerless movement technique that surpassed even the top prodigies of Qianxue?

His footwork was even stronger than that of those who inherited the supreme movement arts of the Carefree Sect Sect and the Feng Clan?

How… was this possible?

Everyone found it unbelievable— especially the cultivators from the Carefree Sect Sect and the Feng Clan.

Their most gifted disciples, wielding their clan’s most powerful movement arts, were completely overshadowed by Mo Hua. Emotionally and logically, they found this impossible to accept—it was a humiliation.

Elder Feng’s face was dark as could be.

At the same time, his cheeks burned with shame—especially when he recalled his “bold declarations” before the debate, boasting of his clan’s unmatched footwork and vowing that their disciples would surely cut down Mo Hua beneath their swords.

He could barely keep his old face from collapsing.

Elder Zhang stared at Mo Hua’s figure on the projection, utterly stunned.

So this… was the Qianxue Sword Debate?

So this… was a peerless prodigy?

He had thought Feng Zichen’s movement was already unimaginably strong among his peers. Yet here was someone even more formidable.

“Mo Hua…”

That name seemed to carry a strange weight, etching itself into Elder Zhang’s heart.

He turned toward Elder Feng.

They were old friends; he didn’t wish to embarrass him further, so he sighed and remarked:

“To be honest, Brother Feng, Zichen’s movement talent is the best I have ever seen in my life.

“In my Zhang Clan, no disciple of his generation could even come close.

“That inherited movement art is also far superior to my clan’s own ancestral footwork.

“But… as you and I both know, this is the Qianxue Province. It’s a gathering place for prodigies—each more terrifying than the last.

“Brother Feng, there is always someone stronger…”

Elder Zhang subtly praised the Feng Clan while speaking the truth.

Hearing this, Elder Feng felt a bit of relief. After a moment’s thought, he sighed and clasped his fists:

“I was too caught up in winning and underestimated the prodigies of other sects. I spoke recklessly and made a fool of myself before you, Brother Zhang.”

“You’re too harsh on yourself,” Elder Zhang shook his head, then praised:

“Zichen’s dual mastery of the Carefree Sect Sect’s Treading Wind Step and the Feng Clan’s Roaming Wind Step will only grow more refined as he advances. His future is limitless.

“In youth, arrogance is natural. A setback like this will temper his nature—it’s a good thing. There’s no need to be impatient.”

“Yes…” Elder Feng nodded, his heart somewhat soothed.

But he still felt a deep doubt:

“Brother Zhang, Zichen’s footwork combines the Treading Wind Step of the Carefree Sect Sect and my Feng Clan’s Roaming Wind Step—already the pinnacle of inherited movement arts.

“This Mo Hua… just what movement technique is he using, that it surpasses both of our sects’ legacies?”

“This…”

Elder Zhang frowned.

Looking again at Mo Hua, he thought for a long moment before speaking slowly:

“It’s a unique water-element movement technique, but certainly not Flowing Water Step.

“The Flowing Water Step is only a façade.

“This art… in the space of a square inch, he can turn, leap, and dodge—his form like water, flowing with the current.

“In its slowest moments, it is like a stream from the mountain spring; at its fastest, like a great river surging away.

“In the smallest details, it contains countless variations; when in motion, it is endless and unceasing.

“And there is also a layer of mist—real and illusory, hard to grasp—

“It’s indeed profound, full of subtlety, with a certain ancient flavor. Even I can’t quite see its full nature…”

Elder Feng nodded repeatedly.

The Zhang Clan was also a movement-arts family, and Elder Zhang was at the Nascent Soul stage—his vision naturally extraordinary.

But then Elder Feng suddenly felt something off.

“Brother Zhang…”

He scrutinized Mo Hua, then looked back at Elder Zhang with a strange expression, unable to hold back:

“Why do I feel like this brat is using your Zhang Clan’s Flowing Water Step?”

Even Elder Zhang was momentarily dumbfounded.

Behind him, Zhang Lan’s body went rigid, his face serious while his toes dug into the ground—wishing he could make a hole to jump into.

“Flowing Water Step?”

Elder Zhang furrowed his brows, slightly dazed.

He had never considered this possibility—because how could it be?

No matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t imagine what kind of chance would allow a disciple of the Great Void Sect—Qianxue’s array arts leader and a sword debate prodigy—to cross millions of li and learn his Zhang Clan’s Flowing Water Step.

And this art wasn’t just surpassing the Treading Wind Step of the Carefree Sect Sect and the Feng Clan’s Roaming Wind Step—

Could his Zhang Clan’s Flowing Water Step really be this strong?

He wanted to believe it… but was it possible?

“Impossible…” Elder Zhang shook his head. “Although this is a water-element movement art, the flow of spiritual power and its variations are far more numerous than in Flowing Water Step. It’s not the same style.

“And besides, Flowing Water Step is a Zhang Clan secret art. How could an outsider possibly learn it?”

“Could it be…” Elder Feng asked warily, “that your clan’s art has been leaked?”

“Absolutely impossible!”

Elder Zhang’s voice turned stern: “This is the ancestor’s legacy. Any disciple who dares to steal it and pass it out… if I didn’t skin them alive and pull out their tendons, I’d still punish them to kneel before the ancestral hall for a hundred years, eating only bran and chaff…”

It was like a sudden thunderclap.

Zhang Lan’s scalp went numb, his head buzzing, his heart turning ice-cold.

From the very start, every fear he’d had about Flowing Water Step had just come true—all at once, without warning.

Mo Hua had used Flowing Water Step, and it had been seen.

Not just seen—seen during the sword debate, broadcast on the enormous projection for almost the entire Qianxue Province to witness.

Worst of all, Elder Zhang himself had seen it.

And even more serious—

The Zhang Clan’s movement art had been learned by an outsider—and that outsider used it better than the Zhang Clan themselves.

So well, in fact, that Elder Zhang hadn’t even recognized it as his own clan’s art…

If this didn’t come to light, fine. But if Elder Zhang found out—

Zhang Lan dared not think further.

He could only grit his teeth, sit ramrod straight, eyes forward, holding his breath—trying to be like a “stone man.”

Even one extra breath might give away the guilt in his heart.

And for now, Elder Zhang indeed suspected nothing, after all, in his mind, it was impossible for Mo Hua to be using the Zhang Clan’s Flowing Water Step.

The sword debate continued in the projection—but the battle’s outcome was already clear.

Feng Zichen, the Carefree Sect Sect’s strongest prodigy, had been outmatched in movement. That meant his swordsmanship was also half a beat slower.

For a wind-style fast sword, slowing even slightly greatly reduced its power.

There was no way he could cut down Mo Hua in a short time.

Theoretically, he could fail countless times—so long as he succeeded once, Mo Hua would die.

Mo Hua could succeed countless times—but if he failed just once, taking a single sword strike, he too would die.

But that single, seemingly simple sword was impossibly far away—so far that Feng Zichen felt utter despair.

And Mo Hua wasn’t even the Great Void Sect’s strongest disciple—that was the sword prodigy Linghu Xiao.

Mo Hua’s concealment, Flowing Water Step, and then Flowing Water Step again had cost Feng Zichen enormous time.

Time Linghu Xiao used well. The Carefree Sect Sect disciples’ fast swords could pressure him temporarily, but they couldn’t truly win.

As time went on, their blades slowed.

Linghu Xiao seized the moment, channeling Hollow Void Sword Qi to break the encirclement.

Once freed, he was like a tiger unleashed, cutting down all in his path under the cover of Cheng Mo and the others.

The Carefree Sect Sect disciples fell back in defeat.

Feng Zichen, abandoning thoughts of victory, focused only on stabbing Mo Hua—even once would do.

Even if he couldn’t kill him—even if he could just tear a corner of his robe—even if he could just touch that water-like, misty, ghostly figure—that would be enough.

But he couldn’t.

No matter how fast his steps, how swift his sword, how drained his meridians became, or how finely he wove his attacks—he could not touch Mo Hua.

Linghu Xiao joined with Ouyang Xuan and the others to surround Feng Zichen.

Finally free from pursuit, Mo Hua began “educating” Feng Zichen with spells.

The outcome was inevitable.

The Carefree Sect Sect prodigy, pride of the Feng Clan, was defeated.

And not just defeated—before he fell, Feng Zichen’s face had gone pale, his spirit hollowed, and even his Dao Heart showed signs of cracking.

Many watching felt pity, sighing in sympathy.

“This Mo Hua is truly sinful!”

“Another prodigy, humiliated and ruined…”

“Just watching this hurts…”

“You can’t blame Feng Zichen—who could have guessed Mo Hua’s movement was this good?”

“Where did he even learn such a terrifying movement art?”

“Which damned fool taught him such a shameless technique?”

Some began to realize—

“So, when he was being cut down earlier and fleeing in disgrace—he was acting?”

Hiss—

A collective gasp.

“It wasn’t the cat chasing the mouse—it was the mouse toying with the cat?”

“He was mocking Feng Zichen?”

“No—he was mocking all of us…”

They had all been waiting to laugh at Mo Hua—but in the end, they themselves were the joke.

All of them had been played.

Thinking of this, everyone fell silent.

Their faces burned, and anger swelled in their chests.

Silent in their fury, furious in their silence, unable to say a word.

No matter what, Mo Hua’s “reputation” had grown again—though it was full of controversy.

The sword debate continued, but after seeing the incredible footwork of Mo Hua and Feng Zichen, the following matches felt dull.

Elder Zhang watched listlessly; Elder Feng was distracted.

Only Zhang Lan sat ramrod straight, but inside, he was boiling with torment—every second passing like a year.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the day’s debate ended and the spectators began to disperse.

Elder Zhang suddenly turned and gave Zhang Lan a deep look.

Zhang Lan trembled violently, almost losing his soul.

“Let’s return to the residence,” Elder Zhang said.

Zhang Lan held his breath, nodding. “Yes, Elder.” His voice wavered.

Elder Zhang sensed something odd, but assumed Zhang Lan was simply shaken by seeing so many prodigies clash today.

He took no offense—in fact, he felt pleased.

There is always someone stronger.

Sometimes, unless you step out into the world, you will never know how vast it is or how many geniuses it holds.

To break through this mental barrier—to admit others’ excellence, to know your own shortcomings, to remain humble and diligent—that is how the Dao path can be walked further.

The projection dimmed to white and vanished.

The crowd rose and left the Mountain of Dao Debate in order.

Zhang Lan walked among them, his legs stiff, still anxious—yet relieved that the elder hadn’t suspected him.

Glancing back at the now-blank projection, he recalled Mo Hua’s clash with the Feng Clan’s top prodigy, merging with water, untouched by ten thousand swords—and felt a deep shock.

He could hardly believe it.

That kid he’d met in the backwater of Daheishan on the border of Lizhou… ten years later, had become the pride of the entire Qianxue Province.

He could stir the clouds and rain at the grand sword debate, fighting famous prodigies without falling behind.

Countless cultivators hated him—but none could do a thing.

“Mo Hua…”

The once-familiar name now felt utterly foreign.

Zhang Lan stood in a daze, as if in a dream.

…

Back at the Feng Clan, Elder Zhang instructed the Zhang family members:

“Elder Feng and I have important matters to discuss. You may go about on your own — sightseeing, making friends, that’s fine. But Foundation Establishment disciples must be accompanied by someone at Golden Core stage. And remember, this is Qianxue Prefecture, a fifth-grade territory, home to countless powerful clans and prodigies — unlike our Zhang family’s Canglan Prefecture. Conduct yourselves with caution, treat others kindly, and do not cause trouble. Be back before the Hai hour, or face family discipline.”

The disciples cupped their hands. “Yes, Elder.”

“Mm.” Elder Zhang nodded, flicked his sleeve, and left.

The Zhang disciples all let out a sigh of relief, and the mood lightened.

They began discussing where to go, whether to visit friends and relatives, and some even called to Zhang Lan.

Zhang Lan, though lazy by nature, was an easygoing and straightforward person, well-liked in the clan. And besides, he was at Golden Core stage.

After some thought, Zhang Lan decided to join them.

They left the cave residence and strolled through nearby Xiaoyao City, taking in the local customs and grand scenery of Qianxue Prefecture.

It was a sight of prosperity — dazzling wealth and beauty beyond compare.

The Zhang disciples were amazed.

Only Zhang Lan seemed distracted, lost in thought.

As they wandered, a disciple suddenly sighed:

“Qianxue Prefecture is wonderful. A pity I can’t study here — my parents won’t allow it.”

“Exactly. This trip is only because Elder Zhang was kind enough to bring us for the ceremony. Once we go back, who knows when we’ll come again?”

“Qian Prefecture is so far… maybe never again…”

“What a shame…”

Hearing this, Zhang Lan’s heart stirred. He couldn’t help but think: Should I try to find a chance… to see Mo Hua?

This trip to Qianxue Prefecture had been pure coincidence.

Once the Sword Debate ended, they would return to Kan Prefecture — far away, and who knew when they might meet again?

In the future, they might be worlds apart. Where Mo Hua would go, or whether they’d meet again, no one could say.

But…

Zhang Lan hesitated.

Mo Hua’s Flowing Water Step was taught by him. By rights, he should “avoid suspicion” — if Elder Zhang found out, he’d be in deep trouble.

Besides, Mo Hua was busy with the Sword Debate and shouldn’t be disturbed.

And now Mo Hua was no longer the same as before — he was a prodigy under the eyes of the whole world. He might not even remember who Zhang Lan was…

Not to mention, Zhang Lan had no idea where to find him.

He wavered, full of concerns.

But then he remembered something Elder Zhang often said:

The years of cultivation are long — partings are easy, meetings are rare.

A person’s life is full of unpredictable encounters; many people have unknowingly already seen each other for the last time.

And right now… this might be his only chance in this life to see Mo Hua again.

If he missed it, they might go their separate ways, cultivating until death without ever meeting again.

A deep melancholy rose in Zhang Lan’s heart.

After thinking a moment, he said to the others:

“You go ahead. I’m going to see a Dao friend.”

The others were surprised but didn’t press. They nodded, calling him “Brother Lan” or “Uncle Lan,” and said:

“Go early, come back early. Stay safe.”

Zhang Lan nodded, then took his leave.

He wanted to find Mo Hua — but didn’t know where he was.

After a moment’s thought, he reasoned: since Mo Hua was a disciple of the Great Void Sect, after the Sword Debate he would likely return there.

“Great Void Sect…”

Zhang Lan hired a carriage, asked for directions, and set off.

The Xiaoyao Sect and Great Void Sect were both among the Eight Great Sects and not far from each other.

Between such great sects, special roads allowed carriages and mounts to pass freely.

After about half an hour, Zhang Lan arrived at Great Void City.

Following a map, he crossed the streets and climbed the stone steps toward the sect gate.

But at the mountain gate, he was stopped.

During the Sword Debate, Qianxue Prefecture was crowded with cultivators from all sides — a mix of dragons and snakes.

The more people, the easier it was for trouble to arise.

Thus, most sects in Qianxue enforced strict entry bans, refusing all outside visitors.

Without a sect token or elder’s letter, one could not enter.

Zhang Lan was kept outside.

He wasn’t alone — other cultivators trying to visit friends or see the sect were also turned away.

Some claimed to know an elder or guest official, but it was useless. Rules were rules.

Zhang Lan stood there for a long while, then sighed helplessly.

Fate could not be forced.

Perhaps this too… was destiny.

The sky darkened. Sunset faded, the evening glow disappeared.

Zhang Lan’s eyes dimmed. He turned and slowly descended the long mountain road — step by step, leaving Great Void Mountain behind.

…

At that moment, within Great Void Mountain…

After a day of matches, Mo Hua was walking toward the disciples’ quarters with Situ and the others.

As he walked, his heart suddenly skipped a beat.

A strange, familiar feeling surged in him.

Mo Hua stopped.

Situ Jian asked: “Little Senior Brother, what’s wrong?”

Mo Hua shook his head, held out his hand, made a quick calculation, then said:

“You go on ahead. I have something to do.”

Situ Jian and Cheng Mo exchanged looks.

Mo Hua waved them off, and before they could reply, he was already heading toward the mountain gate.

When he reached it, he found the entrance blocked by a noisy crowd of cultivators.

From the top of the high stone steps, Mo Hua looked into the distance — and saw a slowly retreating, slightly dejected figure.

That figure, dressed in blue, was very familiar.

Mo Hua froze for a moment, then his eyes lit up, and a bright smile spread across his face.

He called out excitedly:

“Uncle Zhang!”

The clear voice carried down the long steps, reaching the ears of Zhang Lan, who was halfway down the mountain.

Zhang Lan froze, slowly turned, and saw the vast, mist-shrouded Great Void Mountain, the grand gate, the ancient stone terrace.

And at the far end of that terrace, a refined, handsome young man was waving at him with a joyous smile.

It was already dusk, the sunset low — but the youth’s eyes shone like stars, and his smile was as bright as the morning sun.

Compared to the child in his memory, he seemed much changed — yet somehow unchanged.

A warm current flowed through Zhang Lan’s heart.

The joy of reunion, like life-giving rain after drought, spread within him.

He couldn’t help but smile too, his gaze carefree and full of feeling:

“Mo Hua… long time no see…”

(End of this Chapter)