Chapter 1057: Shangguan Wang

Chapter 1056: Shangguan Wang

Mo Hua stepped into the maw of the demon and entered the passage.

The stone walls on both sides were all made of writhing flesh, faintly trembling. Blood threads wove and drifted across them, exuding a stench of blood and the karmic weight of slaughter. Who knew how many lives had been taken, how much flesh and blood melted together to forge this path?

Mo Hua sighed inwardly.

This fleshly passage connected to the earth veins, linking together the regions of the Desolate Heaven Blood-Sacrifice Grand Array. It seemed that only a main array master of the demonic path, like Mister Tu, had mastered the secret method to enter and exit freely.

Mister Tu led Mo Hua forward, walking deeper into the endless sea of blood, toward the core of the sacrificial formation.

Who knew how long they walked before a faint light appeared ahead.

Mo Hua lifted his gaze and saw another array-nexus wall. Carved upon the stone was a blood-red demonic rune in the shape of ram’s horns, both sacred and hideous.

This ram-horn rune was clearly of a much higher grade.

Mister Tu bowed deeply to the rune, showing reverence, then once again drew blood threads from his fingertips. They seeped into the stone and merged with the rune.

The wall distorted, transforming into a fleshy maw that opened anew, revealing another passage.

Mister Tu turned, his gaze cold:

“Remember—obey my words. I won’t kill you. But if you act recklessly, no one will be able to save you.”

Mo Hua nodded. “As long as you don’t kill me.”

After speaking, Mister Tu’s face paled deathly white. His gaunt figure, like a demon’s, lowered slightly as he stepped through the maw.

Mo Hua followed him out of the flesh passage.

At that moment, icy winds howled, eerie voices clamored. Mo Hua looked up—and froze in shock.

Before him stood a colossal, half-finished demonic structure.

Gigantic demonic spirit-machines dug into the mountains, expanding outward.

Grim palaces, pavilions, towers, and dwellings spread in dense ranks.

Countless demonic cultivators and devil cultivators scurried about like ants.

At the highest point stood the main hall: beams made of demon bones, eaves shaped like ram’s horns, surrounded by countless grotesque statues of demons all kneeling toward the center, worshiping a towering demonic idol.

The Idol of the Desolate Wilderness Evil God.

It was clearly a vast and grandiose temple, built to carry endless, frenzied faith, awaiting the descent of the Evil God’s true body.

And the grander the “miracle,” the easier it was to inspire belief.

Even Mo Hua, seeing the immense statue, though it was unfinished and the god had not yet descended, felt a flicker of impulse to prostrate in worship.

Fortunately, the thought vanished in an instant.

In this life, one bows to heaven, earth, and one’s parents—how could the so-called Desolate Wilderness Evil God be worthy of his worship?

Mister Tu kept walking ahead, but his divine sense and sidelong glance never left Mo Hua. He clearly sensed Mo Hua’s moment of wavering when faced with the idol.

It was the instinct of mortals.

But that wavering lasted but an instant, then vanished like a stone sinking into a boundless abyss.

Mo Hua’s gaze was clear. When he looked at the idol, it was as though it were merely a lifeless object.

Mister Tu’s pupils contracted. His expression grew grim.

The two pressed forward, entering the Evil God Temple. Along the way, all they saw were strange, sinister things—until they reached a grand hall, where a man stood before them.

This man’s cultivation was profound, his face stern, lines of authority etched deep. Though standing in a demonic temple, he wore a Daoist robe, appearing out of place.

And Mo Hua recognized him.

Shangguan Wang.

An elder of the Shangguan Clan, one of the Five Great Daoist Families, at the Nascent Soul realm, wielding immense power in his clan. He had nearly become clan head.

And he was the one who had abducted Yu’er.

Mo Hua’s eyes narrowed. As expected, since this old villain appeared here, in the depths of the Desolate Heaven Blood-Sacrifice Array, he had clearly become a lackey of the Evil God, working hand-in-hand with Mister Tu.

But Mo Hua was puzzled.

An elder of a Fifth-Rank Daoist family, a Nascent Soul true authority, already enjoying such prestige—what could Mister Tu, or the Evil God itself, have given him to make him abandon it all and turn to darkness?

As Mo Hua looked at him, Shangguan Wang also spotted Mo Hua. His cold, indifferent face shifted with a trace of emotion.

“It’s you?”

Mo Hua nodded. “It’s me.”

Shangguan Wang turned to Mister Tu, his voice cold: “What is the meaning of this? Why bring this brat here?”

Mister Tu spoke reverently: “This is the Divine-Lord’s blessing.”

Shangguan Wang frowned, then coldly said: “Kill him.”

Mo Hua stepped behind Mister Tu.

But Mister Tu shook his head. “This one cannot be killed.”

Shangguan Wang said slowly: “Mister Tu, don’t say I didn’t warn you. This brat is full of evil omens. Keep him alive, and you may find yourself overturned in the gutter.”

Mo Hua was speechless. These demonic heretics dared to call him—an upright righteous cultivator—“ominous”?

Mister Tu remained unmoved. “He must not be killed.”

Shangguan Wang gave Mo Hua a venomous glare, but said no more. Even though he was Nascent Soul, with high status, he clearly could not disobey Mister Tu’s will.

Mister Tu turned to Mo Hua. “You will remain here for a time, in this place blessed by the Divine-Lord. I’ve arranged a residence for you. Follow me.”

“Oh.” Mo Hua nodded.

Mister Tu walked toward a side hall.

Mo Hua followed closely, never sparing Shangguan Wang a glance.

But Shangguan Wang stared fixedly at Mo Hua, his brows knit tight, his expression severe.

…

Mo Hua and Mister Tu entered the great hall, passed a mural of demonic purgatory carvings, and descended a long staircase.

But the stairs led downward. The deeper they went, the darker, narrower, damper, and more sinister it became.

At last, they arrived at Mo Hua’s “residence”:

A dungeon.

It was deep, sealed, utterly dark, surrounded by sheer walls that crushed hope.

Mo Hua silently studied it, then reminded Mister Tu:

“I’m a Heaven Dao Sword Debate prodigy, the foremost in Array Dao. People usually call me the ‘Crown Prince of the Great Void Sect’…”

In other words—did you really lock the Crown Prince in a place like this?

For the so-called chief steward of the Evil God, your hospitality is a bit lacking, isn’t it?

Mister Tu said blandly: “This is already the highest courtesy. To lock you here is reassuring for both you and me.”

“Please.” His voice rasped like a demon’s, though he said the words politely.

Beneath the eaves, one must bow.

Mo Hua had no choice but to step inside obediently.

Mister Tu sealed the prison door, saying nothing more, but before leaving, he warned the Nascent Soul devil cultivators guarding it:

“Watch him well. Not the slightest carelessness. Not a single mistake…”

The rest he didn’t say, but the guards felt the chill sink into their bones.

If an error occurred, they knew all too well what the consequences would be.

They bowed deeply, hardly daring to breathe.

Only after Mister Tu’s aura faded in the distance did they slowly straighten and draw breath again, uneasy and confused.

A cold-faced devil cultivator frowned.

“This is the deepest level of the Desolate Prison. Usually those locked here are at least late Golden Core, even Nascent Soul. Yet today it’s only a mere Foundation Establishment brat?”

“And even Mister Tu acted with such caution, not daring to be careless… Who exactly is this kid?”

Before the others could speak, someone barked:

“Shut your mouths!”

“Mind your business. The more you talk here, the faster you die.”

The group fell silent at once.

A tall, vicious-looking devil sneered:

“Mister Tu is unfathomable. He has his reasons. If someone can make Mister Tu this wary, even at Foundation Establishment, he’s not someone you fools can question.”

“Beware the karmic entanglement—you’ll die by his hand.”

At this, the guards fell completely silent.

The Desolate Prison never held ordinary people.

And one imprisoned this deep—never.

Some men, though their cultivation wasn’t high, carried terrifying karmic consequences. If your Fate-Structure was weak, contact meant certain death.

These guards of the Desolate Prison might not understand karma or Fate-Structures, but they had seen enough colleagues die to know the taboos.

From then on, none dared to watch Mo Hua, much less approach within three zhang of him.

…

In the prison cell.

Mo Hua looked up. The ceiling seemed infinitely high, narrow as an abyss.

He patted the walls. They were hard and uneven—like human bone.

His divine sense revealed a third-grade high-tier demonic array carved within the stone.

It sealed the cell completely. His blood and spiritual power slowed, even his divine sense grew faint.

“No escape…”

In the territory of a third-grade prefecture, this dungeon was indeed a “desperate place.”

Mister Tu had given him “face” by locking him here—cutting off all possibility of maneuver.

Mo Hua sighed. “Forget it. Since I’m here, I might as well settle in.”

There was still much to do. But with the situation unclear, acting rashly was unwise.

And under the suppression of the demonic array, even his divine sense grew drowsy.

So, why not rest first?

The dungeon walls were gloomy and stained with blood. The air reeked of rot and old blood. Somewhere, cold yin energy seeped in.

Mo Hua touched his waist and drew out his storage pouch.

To his surprise, Mister Tu hadn’t confiscated it.

Of course, it held nothing valuable—just cheap spirit stones, array mediums, pills, and a few second-grade array diagrams.

The real treasures were in his Storage Ring.

If Mister Tu had taken the pouch, it would’ve been just trash.

Mo Hua pulled out some materials and ink, drew a Clear Wind Array to cleanse the smell, then a Warm Breeze Array to heat the air. Finally, he laid out a small blanket, wrapped himself, and lay down to sleep.

But just as he lay back, he looked up—and saw a massive, blood-drenched eyeball staring at him.

Being stared at like that, one couldn’t sleep.

Especially not by a giant bleeding eyeball.

Mo Hua said calmly: “You’re disturbing my sleep.”

Here, in the Evil God’s lair, he didn’t want to cause trouble.

Besides, he had just “eaten.” He wasn’t hungry.

The eyeball trembled violently—then shut tight.

Only then was Mo Hua satisfied. He closed his eyes, and soon, his steady breathing filled the dungeon.

In the endless darkness of the Desolate Prison, amid demonic whispers and hopeless gloom, Mo Hua lay under his little blanket… and slept soundly.

…

Inside the Evil God Temple, in a secret chamber.

Mister Tu and Shangguan Wang were having a private discussion.

“The promised matter, I hope Mister Tu will not go back on your word. Once it is done, if I can…” Shangguan Wang paused, then reluctantly gave honorific respect, “if I can receive the Divine-Lord’s blessing, granting me eternal life…”

Mister Tu replied firmly, “That is only natural.”

Shangguan Wang’s expression was heavy, his heart knot still unresolved. He confirmed again and again:

“People pursue the Dao, endure a thousand tribulations and countless dangers, just for a faint chance of ascending as immortals.”

“Immortals live as long as Heaven and Earth, shine as bright as the sun and moon—only then can they be called everlasting.”

“And I, my cultivation is only at Nascent Soul, far from an immortal. By believing in the Divine-Lord, can I truly gain eternal life?”

Mister Tu lowered his voice: “Elder Wang, do you know how long I have lived?”

Shangguan Wang’s expression eased slightly, nodding. But another doubt rose in his mind, and he asked:

“After believing in the Divine-Lord and gaining immortality… will I still retain my sanity?”

This was his greatest concern—he did not wish to live forever only to lose reason, turning into a bloodthirsty beast.

But Mister Tu did not try to comfort him. Instead, he mocked: “Sanity? What use is such a thing?”

Shangguan Wang’s face changed.

Mister Tu pressed a hand on his shoulder, calmly saying:

“Elder Wang, do you really believe there is such a thing as ‘sanity’ in this world?”

“To satisfy their desires, people commit acts far more deranged than beasts—can that be called sanity?”

“Driven by fame and profit, lusting for power and wealth, even courting their own destruction without hesitation… can that be called sanity?”

Shangguan Wang’s brow twitched.

“Humans have always lived by their greed and ignorance,” Mister Tu said slowly. “They are driven through life by desire, not reason. If so, what meaning does sanity have?”

“Being driven by fame and desire, or being driven by the Divine-Lord—what difference is there?”

“Worship fame and profit, and after a few centuries, when the end comes, you will still return to dust.”

“Worship the Divine-Lord, and even if calamity comes, you can shed your shell, transform your form, and live eternally.”

“If it were you—which would you choose?”

Shangguan Wang fell silent, but in his eyes, his ambition grew more frenzied, more fearless—he clearly already had his answer.

Mister Tu nodded slightly.

“How long will it be?” Shangguan Wang asked. “When will the Divine-Lord be reborn?”

Usually calm, Mister Tu now frowned with irritation.

Originally, everything had been perfectly arranged—

The grand formation, the divine fetus, the sacrifices—everything was meticulously prepared.

But during the Sword Debate Assembly, countless unforeseen accidents forced him to activate the formation ahead of time. Worse, the Shen Family destroyed a corpse he had painstakingly nurtured for centuries, one he had finally managed to refine into usable flesh.

Now, even the sacrifices had gone wrong.

Those sect prodigies had already fallen into his trap. Soon, like raising poisonous insects, they would have slaughtered each other, their Dao-hearts descending into madness, leaving only the strongest few to become the Divine-Lord’s servants after his rebirth.

But at the final moment, all of them were rescued by that damn Dao Court—and by Gu Changhuai.

His evil formation masters had also been slaughtered in droves.

All these setbacks combined had severely delayed the progress of his Desolate Heaven Blood-Sacrifice Grand Formation.

And also delayed the day of the Divine-Lord’s rebirth and descent.

Shangguan Wang, who was caught up in all this, could faintly sense it too, and coldly said:

“I can’t shake the feeling that all these setbacks are because someone is secretly hindering us.”

Mister Tu nodded slightly, expression indifferent:

“From the moment we seized the Shangguan Clan’s divine fetus, I had the sense that some strange ‘sinister shadow’ existed—faint yet constant, interfering with the Divine-Lord’s grand plan of rebirth…”

But the actions of this shadow in each incident left him perplexed.

At times, he thought this person must be of extremely high cultivation—only a powerful cultivator could join in this level of struggle. Yet at other times, he felt this person’s strength wasn’t great, otherwise many things could have been resolved with a wave of the hand, without such twists and turns.

Sometimes, he felt this figure must be a mastermind, plotting from the shadows. Other times, he thought perhaps it was only a mere executioner, charging into battle, killing and obeying orders.

Sometimes, he was certain it was an ancient monster who had cultivated for centuries, even millennia.

But then, he would feel it might just be a fledgling novice…

Every time Mister Tu thought of this, his mind grew muddled.

Even the Divine-Lord could not grant him a clearer revelation.

Each time he fed, he wished to devour a few more cultivators’ brains, just to clear his thoughts.

At present, the only clue was that boy, Mo Hua.

By his guess, Mo Hua must be deeply connected to that shadowy figure—nonexistent yet present everywhere.

“Mo Hua…”

“That Mo Hua…” Shangguan Wang’s eyes flickered, his tone grave. “In my opinion, it would be best to kill him now, to prevent future trouble.”

Mister Tu shook his head. “I have greater use for him.”

Shangguan Wang frowned. “What use?”

Mister Tu had no intention of explaining, but Shangguan Wang was a key figure—he could not let him turn doubtful.

Mister Tu said, “The karmic entanglement on him is vast and profound. He cannot be moved rashly.”

“When a man dies, the lamp goes out. No matter how great the karma, death ends it.” Shangguan Wang’s gaze turned cold.

“His identity is special. His position is high. He is deeply favored by the Great Void Ancestor…”

“You don’t understand the Great Void Sect, nor its Hollow Void Ancestor,” Shangguan Wang shook his head. “The Great Void Sect has never been known for prestige, but their sword-arts are upright and resolute. They distinguish good from evil clearly and never bargain with demonic cultivators.”

“No matter how favored this boy is, they will not make an exception.”

“In fact, if he truly falls to the demonic path, the very first thing the Great Void Sect will do is ruthlessly cleanse their sect…”

As a Shangguan elder, Shangguan Wang had close ties with the three sects of Great Void and knew their ways very well.

Mister Tu said again, “Too many of our evil formation masters have died. Completion of the grand formation will be delayed.”

Shangguan Wang frowned. “You want this boy to draw formations for you, to complete the blood-sacrifice formation?”

Mister Tu neither admitted nor denied.

Shangguan Wang said: “But he is only one man.”

“You saw it yourself at the Sword Debate Assembly,” Mister Tu said. “With only his divine sense, he commanded ink, drew formations on the ground, and completed them at a speed equal to ten… no, even dozens of top-grade second-rank formation masters.”

Shangguan Wang pondered for a moment, then shook his head. “We still have formation masters. Let the formation progress slower. It’s better not to take unnecessary risks.”

No matter what, Shangguan Wang was determined to kill Mo Hua.

First, because his relationship with Mo Hua was poor, and Mo Hua was known for repaying every grudge.

Second, now that he had abandoned the righteous for darkness and pledged to the Desolate Heaven Divine-Lord—if in the future Mo Hua was also converted, then in the Divine-Lord’s eyes, Mo Hua’s position would far surpass his own.

Granted, he was Nascent Soul, so his rank would not be low.

But Mo Hua was already at late Foundation Establishment, only one step from Golden Core. The Divine-Lord had countless demonic arts that could help him condense his core swiftly.

At that point, a Golden Core cultivator of terrifying talent in formations, empowered by demonic blessings and protected by the Divine-Lord, would be unstoppable. Even Shangguan Wang, at Nascent Soul, would have to bow his head.

All his schemes would be ruined.

Thus, his killing intent toward Mo Hua was unrestrained.

Mister Tu could see this, but even he did not necessarily insist on sparing Mo Hua. It was simply that something on Mo Hua made him uneasy—a faint aura that he dared not provoke.

“I suspect, on this boy… some unknown mighty figure has planted a…”

Mister Tu’s voice trailed off, his pupils shrinking, as he slowly whispered:

“A Life-Bound Longevity Talisman…”

(End of this Chapter)