Chapter 1017: Reunion
The Taixu Mountain was shrouded in rich rosy clouds and curling mist.
Mo Hua was leading Zhang Lan on a leisurely walk through the mountain paths, telling him about the history of the Great Void Sect—its ancient cultivation sites, its antique pavilions, and the breathtaking mountain scenery.
Zhang Lan was deeply moved.
It wasn’t just the long history of this fifth-grade sect, its deep heritage, the bearing of its disciples, or its magnificent scenery that impressed him…
What truly shocked him was that he had actually managed to step past the Great Void Sect’s mountain gate.
During the Sword Debate Grand Assembly, the mountain gate was surrounded by countless cultivators.
Some were highly cultivated, some had extraordinary backgrounds, and some carried themselves with imposing dignity—yet without exception, they were all stopped outside the gate.
Zhang Lan had been no exception.
The sect rules were strict. The elders guarding the mountain and the inner sect disciples were impartial and allowed no exceptions.
But when Mo Hua reached the gate, he simply smiled and called out a few “Elder” and “Senior Brother,” then said, “This is an uncle I’m very close to.”
The gatekeepers didn’t question it at all and simply let them through.
The disciples guarding the mountain even saluted Zhang Lan.
The elders guarding the mountain actually nodded in greeting to him.
Once inside the Great Void Sect, things became even more absurd.
Every disciple they passed called Mo Hua “Senior Brother” or “Little Senior Brother.”
Every elder they passed nodded to him with familiarity.
Some elders even greeted Mo Hua first before Mo Hua returned the salute with a smile.
Zhang Lan almost thought he was dreaming.
If he didn’t know Mo Hua’s background, he would have thought the Great Void Sect was his family’s sect.
In a powerful fifth-grade sect, to receive such treatment—you’d have to be the sect’s precious young master or at least the young sect leader, right?
Zhang Lan glanced at Mo Hua silently.
He had long known Mo Hua was good with people and could get along anywhere.
But to “get along” this well… that was beyond his imagination.
As they strolled, Mo Hua suddenly remembered something and asked, “Uncle Zhang, you haven’t eaten yet, right?”
Zhang Lan nodded.
Mo Hua said generously, “I’ll treat you!”
Inside the sect, disciples ate in the dining halls of the disciples’ quarters.
But only disciples could enter the quarters—outsiders were strictly forbidden.
Even Mo Hua didn’t have the authority to break that rule.
At most, he could take the sect master’s big white dog into the dining hall for a free meal.
But that was the sect master’s dog.
For Uncle Zhang, there was no way to bend the rules.
So Mo Hua bought some wine and meat from the dining hall, then led Zhang Lan to a quiet, beautiful peak on the sect’s right mountain.
They found a large rock, laid a cloth, and set the food and drink upon it.
The two sat on the ground, facing the evening glow and sunset-lit mountains, drinking and eating while reminiscing.
For a moment, Zhang Lan felt as if he were back in Tongxian City, in Mo Hua’s family tavern—skipping work without a care, drinking with Mo Hua, eating meat, listening to demon hunters’ mountain tales, and watching the sunset paint the door red.
But in the blink of an eye, he was in the Great Void Sect again.
The one drinking with him now was the sect’s sword debate prodigy, the foremost talent in formations—a refined young man.
Ten years apart felt like only yesterday. Mo Hua’s appearance had changed, but in his manner he was still as sincere and natural, as if nothing had changed at all.
For a cultivator, to keep an unchanging heart and childlike sincerity was rare indeed.
Zhang Lan sighed inwardly.
Under Mo Hua’s influence, he too felt far more at ease.
Mo Hua was not the same Mo Hua as before… yet somehow, he still was.
Mo Hua looked at Zhang Lan as well.
His once-lazy uncle seemed much more “settled” now—no longer idling about like in Tongxian City, and he’d matured a lot.
Mo Hua nodded in satisfaction.
But at the same time, he was surprised.
“Uncle Zhang… you’ve formed your Golden Core?”
Zhang Lan nodded. “Mm. Lucky.”
Mo Hua frowned in confusion.
He remembered clearly—back in Tongxian City, Zhang Lan had only been in Qi Refining.
Later, when fighting a great demon, he’d been forced to break through to Foundation Establishment.
And now, after so many years apart, he’d already reached Golden Core?
That was a bit much.
Mo Hua couldn’t help but ask, “Uncle Zhang… is there something wrong with your cultivation?”
Zhang Lan snorted. “What could be wrong with it?”
Seeing Mo Hua still doubtful, Zhang Lan sighed and explained:
“Didn’t I tell you before? I’ve always had good talent. I was just dissatisfied with the marriage my family arranged for me, so I stayed stuck in Qi Refining, went to a remote place, and worked as a registrar for some peace and quiet.”
“After I broke through to Foundation Establishment, I had to return to the clan.”
“My father arranged another marriage. I refused. My father’s stubborn, so he said unless I reached Golden Core and gained independence, I’d have to marry.”
“So I went into seclusion, cultivated day and night, broke through one stage after another until I was at the peak of Foundation Establishment. Then I attempted Core Formation—luckily, I succeeded on the first try.”
Mo Hua was stunned.
This was the man who stayed in Qi Refining until his thirties just to avoid marriage—yet for the same reason, he reached Golden Core in his forties?!
Mo Hua was awed.
“Uncle Zhang… if your father told you to reach Nascent Soul or else get married… would you just become a Nascent Soul cultivator on the spot?”
Zhang Lan glared at him.
“Brat, don’t talk nonsense. Nascent Soul isn’t that easy.
“My father’s just stubborn, not clueless—he’d never demand that. He himself cultivated for centuries, enduring hardship, and only reached Nascent Soul thanks to a stroke of fortune.”
“At Nascent Soul, you’re considered a True Person.”
“The difficulty of reaching that stage… no one knows it better than him. He’d never truly force me.”
Pausing, Zhang Lan sighed.
“Truth is, even Golden Core is very hard. A lot depends on whether Heaven favors you. If luck’s bad, you can fail at Core Formation no matter how many times you try. Many cultivators are stuck there for life.
“That’s why I stayed in Qi Refining so long—once you fail at Core Formation, you lose control of your path.
“If it weren’t for the crisis in Tongxian City, I wouldn’t have broken through to Foundation so easily.”
“In the end, Heaven decides our fate. I suppose misfortune pushed me into fortune—I forced myself to reach Golden Core.”
Zhang Lan lay back on the rock, arms folded behind his head, one leg crossed over the other, relaxing visibly.
“Thirty years old and still in Qi Refining—that’s a late bloomer.”
“Forty and already Golden Core—that’s a young talent. Now I’ve got time to take it easy.”
Mo Hua imitated him, lying back lazily with a sigh.
“Must be nice… I still don’t know when I’ll reach Golden Core.”
Zhang Lan waved it off. “You’re the Great Void Sect’s prodigy, with the sect behind you, plenty of inheritance, elders guiding you, and so many looking after you—what’s there to worry about?”
Mo Hua shook his head. “Inheritance has nothing to do with it. You said it yourself—Core Formation depends on luck. If Heaven doesn’t favor me… there’s nothing I can do.”
Zhang Lan nodded. “That’s true.”
He wished Mo Hua good luck, but that was Heaven’s decision, not his.
After a moment’s thought, Zhang Lan sighed.
“I can’t help you there… If it were before, I could’ve gotten some of the Zhang family’s cultivation insights for you… but now you’re a Great Void Sect disciple. With their deep heritage, you won’t need our Zhang family’s—”
He froze mid-sentence, suddenly sitting up straight, all trace of laziness gone.
He’d almost forgotten—Flowing Water Step!
That was the real problem!
Mo Hua gave him a puzzled look.
With a grave expression, Zhang Lan asked, “Mo Hua… do you remember how you got your Flowing Water Step?”
Mo Hua nodded. “From a kind uncle passing through.”
“Don’t get it wrong. If you say it wrong, I might die,” Zhang Lan said seriously.
Mo Hua blinked. “That serious?”
Zhang Lan nodded. “It wasn’t before. Now it is—very.”
Back then, he’d just been a minor official in a small town, casually teaching a lone rogue cultivator a tiny bit of the Zhang family’s footwork.
But now? He’d effectively given the Zhang family’s treasured movement art to the Great Void Sect’s brightest prodigy.
And in front of everyone—witnessed by the Great Elder himself.
That was dangerous.
Earlier today, he had overheard the Great Elder praising the Wind family’s prodigy’s Wind-Stepping and Wind-Walking Steps as unique.
Then Mo Hua’s Flowing Water Step had outshone them both—before the entire audience.
If Elder Feng found out that Mo Hua had learned it from the Zhang family, he’d think the Great Elder was mocking him—pretending to praise his sect’s movement art while secretly giving a superior technique to someone else, letting him beat the Wind family.
That could cause resentment between the Zhangs and the Winds.
Therefore, this secret could never get out.
It wasn’t about avoiding punishment—it was about preserving the centuries-long friendship between the two families.
Zhang Lan’s expression was as firm as the mountains.
“Never, ever tell anyone!”
Feeling the weight of cause and effect, Mo Hua nodded solemnly. “Don’t worry. I’ll never tell—even if they beat me to death.”
“Good.”
Satisfied, Zhang Lan relaxed again, sipping his wine and watching the mountains.
They talked of old times in Tongxian City.
Zhang Lan asked after Mo Hua’s life—learning that aside from constant cultivation, training in Daoist arts, and drawing formations, all was well.
The sect was harmonious, his peers friendly, the elders and even the sect master and patriarch were kind.
Zhang Lan was reassured.
Of course, he also asked a few questions he really cared about:
“Is your divine sense really at the peak of nineteen lines?”
“Did you really defeat the four great sects and become foremost in formations while still mid-Foundation?”
“Are you truly the patriarch’s biological grandson?”
“The sect master’s illegitimate son?”
“I heard you blew up the Purple Mist Sect’s number-one beauty’s head with a Fireball Technique??”
…
Most of them, Mo Hua answered truthfully.
For example, he really was the foremost in formation arts.
He truly did, through sheer “strength,” suppress the four great sects and win first place in the Formation Debate—there was no favoritism, no backroom dealings.
Also, he was not the illegitimate child of the Great Void Sect Master, nor the direct grandson of the Great Void Ancestor.
And it was indeed not intentional on his part to use Fireball Technique to blow up the head of the Purple Mist Sect’s number one beauty.
He had been wholly focused on the Sword Debate, free from distractions, and genuinely didn’t recognize her.
Nor was it some calculated coldness to catch the attention of a fairy…
Of course, there were some questions where Mo Hua told small lies.
For instance, his divine sense was no longer at the peak of Nineteen Runes—it had already reached the divine sense of a Twenty-Rune Golden Core cultivator.
But such a thing was too shocking, and with the Ancestor’s repeated admonitions, Mo Hua could not speak of it.
…
The two chatted like this, as if they were old acquaintances and good friends, until the sun set, the evening glow faded, and night descended. In the mountains of Great Void, dots of lantern light brightened the ethereal peaks, bright and serene, like an immortal realm in the heavens.
Zhang Lan rose to take his leave.
Mo Hua tried to keep him.
Zhang Lan shook his head. “If I go back late, the Grand Elder will scold me. Besides, you need to focus on the Sword Debate without being disturbed.”
Mo Hua hesitated for a moment and could only nod.
Uncle Zhang was telling the truth.
The Sword Debate was indeed busy.
Especially since his identity was special and he carried many hidden trump cards—once exposed, he would surely be targeted. Every round required him to spend a great deal of time thinking of countermeasures, formulating plans, and preparing in advance.
Only in this way could he win match after match.
“Then, Uncle Zhang, will you be staying in Qianxue State for a while?”
“Mm,” Zhang Lan nodded, “until the Sword Debate ends.”
Mo Hua smiled. “Good. When the Sword Debate is over, I’ll treat you to wine and meat.”
Zhang Lan also smiled and nodded. “Alright.”
As the night deepened, Zhang Lan set off to leave, and Mo Hua escorted him all the way to the mountain gate of the Great Void Sect.
Before parting, Zhang Lan suddenly thought of something and said, “Mo Hua… be careful.”
Mo Hua was stunned, a little puzzled. “Careful of what?”
Zhang Lan hesitated, then asked, “In the Sword Debate… do you like to use low-grade spells?”
Mo Hua nodded, perfectly matter-of-fact. “I only know low-grade spells, so of course I can only use low-grade spells.”
“Then you use Fireball Technique to finish opponents off…”
“Saves time and effort—quick and convenient.”
“And your Concealment Technique…”
“They want to kill me, so of course I’ll use Concealment Technique to escape, otherwise wouldn’t I be killed?”
“And using Concealment to play hide-and-seek…”
“To stall for time. That way, when Xiaoxiao and the others free up, they can slaughter the field and we can win…”
Zhang Lan froze.
Mo Hua’s words were indeed perfectly logical—but he was completely unaware how much psychological trauma these “perfectly natural” actions caused to the Sword Debate participants.
And how many spectators were so angry they nearly coughed blood.
From the stands, the cries to “condemn” the “heinous” Mo Hua were endless.
But for now, Zhang Lan didn’t know how to explain it to him.
After a moment, he sighed to himself:
Forget it—only the mediocre escape envy.
If one wants to achieve something in cultivation, to be praised by others, one will inevitably be slandered by others.
Those who accomplish great deeds cannot avoid envy, nor slander.
“I will always be in the audience, watching you display your might in the Sword Debate!” Zhang Lan said warmly, looking at Mo Hua with encouragement.
Mo Hua smiled. “Thank you, Uncle Zhang.”
Under the night sky, they parted ways.
Zhang Lan walked down the mountain.
Mo Hua remained on the mountain.
The one descending felt full of comfort, amazement, and admiration.
The one remaining was filled with warmth and joy.
On the long road of cultivation, there are always warm encounters.
In the vast sea of people, there will always be someone quietly caring for you.
Mo Hua watched Zhang Lan’s figure grow smaller in the distance, his face gentle, his gaze bright as stars.
When Zhang Lan finally vanished, he turned and returned to the Great Void Sect…
Of course, if there were those who cared for Mo Hua, there were also those who hated him.
The number who cared for him was not small. The number who hated him—naturally far greater.
In Qianxue State, across the various sects—
A mysterious “organization” was quietly taking shape.
A special message talisman was being secretly circulated.
This talisman bore a name brimming with murderous intent—
“Mo-Slaughter Order.”
Any disciple who received the “Mo-Slaughter Order,” so long as they had some cause and agreed to the shared pact, could join this mysterious organization.
All who held the “Mo-Slaughter Order” could use the token to connect to the same Primordial Magnetic Base Array.
Allied disciples could freely exchange messages through it.
At this moment, one after another, members brimming with rage and hatred joined anonymously.
Within the Mo-Slaughter Order, magnetic runes manifested lines of text…
“One Canglang Sword joins…”
“I am irreconcilable with Fireball Technique—joining…”
“Nameless One joins…”
“Water Prison Technique must die—joining…”
“Purple Mist’s First Fairy joins…”
“Whoever learns Concealment is a dog—joining…”
“Wind-like Youth joins…”
“Big Fool joins…”
Everyone: “?…”
That name made the Mo-Slaughter Order go silent for a moment.
Someone asked: “Shi Tiangang?”
Big Fool: “Yes.”
Everyone: “…”
Water Prison Technique Must Die: “You didn’t have to be that direct—you could at least use a pseudonym…”
Big Fool: “I am using a pseudonym.”
Everyone: “…”
Water Prison Technique Must Die: “I mean, you could choose a different kind of pseudonym… not so… blunt?”
Big Fool: “No need.”
Big Fool: “I’ll use this name as a mark to spur myself on, to endure hardship, never forgetting my deep blood feud…”
Big Fool: “I will not rest until Mo Hua is dead!”
Nameless One: “Good! Admirable!”
Wind-like Youth: “Count me in.”
One Canglang Sword: “I can help.”
Purple Mist’s First Fairy: “If you’re short on spirit stones, tell me.”
I Am Irreconcilable with Fireball Technique: “Swear to kill Mo Hua!”
…
For a while, the group boiled over with excitement, messages flooding in:
“Mo Hua must die!”
“Swear to kill Mo Hua!”
“I am irreconcilable with Mo Hua!”
“If I don’t kill Mo Hua once, I’ve lived in vain!”
“If I don’t kill Mo Hua once, I’ll never marry!”
…
After a while, a sudden fluctuation passed through the Primordial Magnetic Array, and the magnetic runes dimmed—no one could send messages for the moment.
Then, a completely anonymous user, their name a pitch-black magnetic blur, sent a bolded magnetic-ink message to all, the wording solemn:
“The Mo-Slaughter Alliance is established today.
Oath: Mo Hua must die!
Purpose: Swear to kill Mo Hua!
Token: Mo-Slaughter Order.
Membership requirement: To be irreconcilable with Mo Hua!
Current mission:
In the Sword Debate Conference, under the eyes of all, kill Mo Hua once.
No restriction on identity, cultivation, or method—just kill him once!
Whoever slays Mo Hua with their own hand shall be elected ‘Alliance Leader,’ revered by all.
Their achievement will be etched in the hearts of all, immortal forever!”
…
In that instant, every holder of the Mo-Slaughter Order felt a blazing fire ignite in their hearts.
(End of this Chapter)