Chapter 1187: Death and Life

Chapter 1186: Death and Life

The blood of death and defeat was flowing away, while the Yin-Wood qi was surging in.

The Bloodfang Poison pushed one step at a time from life to death.

The Rejuvenation Formation pulled one bit at a time from death to life.

When the two intertwined, life turned to death, and death turned to life, endlessly entangled and vying for dominance—forming a strange, paradoxical cycle of cause and effect, reflected within Mo Hua’s mirror-like eyes.

Mo Hua’s heart was shaken by an indescribable shock, so much so that his face revealed an unusual expression.

“Mr. Wu?” Dan-Zhu looked at Mo Hua in surprise. “Is there something wrong?”

Chi-Feng and the others also turned toward him.

Mo Hua gathered away the shock in his heart, his expression calming. He shook his head and said slowly:

“It’s fine. I was only… struck with awe at the Divine-Lord’s compassion, and the astounding divine power. With the holy runes bestowed by the Divine-Lord, these barbarian soldiers who are bleeding endlessly… can be saved.”

Hearing this, Dan-Zhu spoke with heartfelt gratitude:

“Thanks to the Divine-Lord, and thanks to Mr. Wu.”

The surrounding soldiers and wounded of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe all showed reverent gazes, bowing one after another to Mo Hua and chanting:

“Divine-Lord eternal, Lord Shaman enlightened.”

Even Chi-Feng, a barbarian general at mid-Golden Core stage, saluted Mo Hua with respect.

Mo Hua’s expression was solemn yet gentle, calmly receiving the courtesy of the crowd. But from the corner of his eyes, he still observed the wounded—watching the alternation of blood qi and wood qi, the shifting of death and life force upon them. His heart could not help but tremble.

Something is wrong…

This Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation absolutely has a problem!

It could never be just a simple medical formation.

But what exactly was the problem? How was it different from ordinary medical formations?

Mo Hua could not quite make sense of it.

Afterward, the wounded of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe were one after another placed upon the Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation for treatment, using the Yin-Wood qi to suppress the Bloodfang Poison and restrain the constant loss of vitality.

Their injuries gradually improved, and all of them praised the Divine-Lord’s mighty power, grateful for Mo Hua, this Lord Shaman’s, kindness.

Mo Hua, however, went alone to a quiet corner, secretly pondering over the Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation.

…

Inside the stone hall, in a deserted corner against the wall.

Mo Hua sat upon the stone steps, using a broken tree branch to carefully sketch out the Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation on the ground, stroke by stroke, without the slightest error. Then he compared the array he had drawn to the original array diagram within the jade slip, the reward from the Sword Debate Assembly.

He suspected this Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation was by no means ordinary—there must be hidden intricacies.

First place in the Qianxue Sword Debate, reward from the Dao Court, commendation from the Heavenly Authority Pavilion.

Qianxue, Dao Court, Heavenly Authority Pavilion.

All were top powers of the cultivation world. The karmic weight involved was enormous. With the three overlapping, the reward bestowed could never be a trivial thing.

This had been Mo Hua’s assumption.

But when he first received the Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation, it looked utterly ordinary.

That left Mo Hua disappointed.

After all the suffering he endured to win first place, the prize felt tasteless, far beneath his expectations. And so, he had shelved the formation for a long time.

Now, Mo Hua realized—perhaps it had been his own “shallow” view.

This Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation only sounded ordinary, looked ordinary, studied ordinary.

But once actually used—it was absolutely not ordinary.

In fact, there was something unspeakably strange and abnormal about it.

Such abnormalities could only be perceived by someone who had truly obtained the formation, earnestly studied it, personally drawn it, and then used it to save lives.

Even so, this “abnormality” was hard for Mo Hua to pin down.

He could not tell whether this cycle of “life and death” changes, nearly resembling the transformations of some law, was because the formation itself had a problem…

Or merely because the formation was for healing—and whenever one healed, life and death changes would naturally be involved, regardless of the formation itself?

Mo Hua was no alchemist, and had never healed people through medical means. He could not distinguish the two.

He looked again at the Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation he had drawn.

From array lines, pivots, to the eye of the formation—there was nothing special. At first glance, it was simply an ordinary “medical” array. From the perspective of formations, there was indeed no sign of anomaly.

Mo Hua frowned.

If there was no clue from medical arts or formations, then look from the perspective of “cause and effect.”

In his mind arose a question:

Whose hand had this array originally come from, as a reward?

The Dao Court?

But “Dao Court” was a broad concept—any organization or person within it could act under its name.

More specifically… the Heavenly Authority Pavilion?

Who within the Pavilion?

Mo Hua did not know much about the Pavilion, but he knew that many of its external orders were directly issued by the Fate Pavilion Supervisor. For such an array to be given as a reward, it must have passed through the Supervisor’s hand.

The Supervisor knew.

But aside from the Supervisor, who else?

At the pinnacle of the Pavilion stood the Elders. Did the Grand Elder know?

Rumors said the Pavilion’s Grand Elder was an ancient figure of immeasurable depth. Did he know the mystery within this formation? Was the reward given only with his approval?

Could it be…

Was this decision directly made by the Grand Elder himself?

Mo Hua’s heart stirred, but then he frowned:

“Impossible. The Grand Elder holds vast power, commands countless affairs—how could he bother with such a trivial matter?”

“But… what if?”

“What if it really was the Grand Elder? What was his intention?”

Mo Hua furrowed his brow, recalling—and suddenly his heart chilled. He remembered that when he once used the Heavenly Secret Derivative Algorithm to probe the cause and effect of this formation, a vague figure had appeared before his eyes.

His master.

Proud above heaven and earth, defiant and unmatched.

Yet when he looked at Mo Hua, his gaze was gentle, his eyes held a faint smile, and heavy reluctance.

“Master…”

The Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation was linked to his master’s cause and effect.

Would the Pavilion’s Grand Elder know of this as well?

Mo Hua’s heart quivered with dread.

Could it be—precisely because he knew, that the Grand Elder of the Heavenly Authority Pavilion decreed this formation to be the reward of the Sword Debate? Was it all part of the Grand Elder’s calculations?

Mo Hua drew in a sharp breath.

Before, he might not have thought this way. He was not so conceited as to believe the entire world was targeting him.

So many mighty figures, scheming against a mere nobody like him.

But after suffering greatly at his uncle-master’s hands over the Fate-Bane, Mo Hua had become more cautious.

When you peer into cause and effect, cause and effect also peers back at you.

It was entirely possible that some high experts had already noticed his every move.

Only he himself remained oblivious.

But still…

The Grand Elder? Scheming against me?

Mo Hua couldn’t help but feel he was being “overly sentimental.”

That was the Grand Elder of the Heavenly Authority Pavilion—would such a figure scheme against him?

He was just a small Foundation Establishment cultivator—what about him was worth the Grand Elder’s calculations?

Mo Hua shook his head.

After all, he didn’t even know who this Grand Elder was, nor what he looked like, nor had he ever had any contact with him. So how could it be…

And then, suddenly, Mo Hua’s heart skipped a beat, as a figure appeared in his mind.

An old man with white hair, seeming half-asleep.

Back when leaving Qianxue State, in Cloud-Crossing City, he had once played a game of chess with this old man.

They had been evenly matched, playing happily.

Mo Hua froze.

No way…

That old man… could he be… the Grand Elder of the Pavilion?

Impossible…

Mo Hua shook his head again and again.

How could a dignified Grand Elder have nothing better to do, wandering to a ferry city just to play chess with him? How could that be possible?

Impossible.

Mo Hua simply didn’t believe it at all.

“But… what if it is?”

His heart trembled slightly.

If so, then that would mean he was truly within the Grand Elder’s sight.

Everything he had done in the Qianxue Province might already be fully within the Grand Elder’s insight.

Going a step further—

Everything he had done had been permitted by the Grand Elder.

The series of conflicts that arose from this, and the shifting of the Qianxue Province’s balance of power, had all been within the Grand Elder’s grasp.

Even the final outcome of the Blood Sacrifice Formation… was it perhaps something already foreseen—or at least welcomed—by the Grand Elder?

And when parting ways, the Grand Elder’s glance at him—was it merely to personally confirm the mental state of this “chess piece” who had resolved the Evil God’s calamity?

Was he, in truth… nothing more than a “chess piece” for the Grand Elder to manipulate the situation of Qianxue?

When Mo Hua connected all these thoughts together, a chill seeped through his very bones.

The air within the stone hall grew cold.

But after brooding for a while, Mo Hua slowly let out a breath.

Perhaps he was just being a little “overly sentimental.”

There was no need to assume such sinister intentions in people’s hearts.

The Grand Elder surely had many burdens.

From such a high position, lonely amidst the clouds, he had to oversee the nine provinces, to grasp the grand situation. How could he possibly devote all his attention to a mere Foundation Establishment junior like Mo Hua?

At most, the Grand Elder knew of him.

At most, he had “calculated” him a little.

As for being a chess piece—perhaps it was simply a matter of taking advantage of circumstances, dangling some “bait” to guide him forward. Everyone gained something from it.

Surely the Grand Elder bore him no malice.

Otherwise, back in Cloud-Crossing City, when Mo Hua was about to leave the Qianxue Province, the Grand Elder wouldn’t have personally appeared to play a game of chess with him.

Of course, Mo Hua didn’t know that the Grand Elder had never intended to “appear,” nor to “accompany” him in chess.

It had been Mo Hua himself who shamelessly approached and sat down to play.

“Besides, all of this is just my speculation…”

Mo Hua told himself.

That old man who had played chess with him wasn’t necessarily the Grand Elder.

And even if he truly was, he hadn’t shown the slightest malice toward him.

That much Mo Hua could feel.

And anyone whose chess skills could match his own could only be a peer in intelligence—not someone vile or sinister.

(TN: Mo Hua – The Chess Grand-Master)

Mo Hua nodded to himself, feeling that made sense.

Then he lowered his head, turning back to the Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation before him.

All of these thoughts had only been deductions drawn from scattered clues.

Whether true or not, there was no way to confirm now.

But if they were true, then this formation was anything but ordinary.

Blood and wood, death and life interwoven—not only tied deeply to his master’s karmic cause and effect, but containing within it a profound and unfathomable law of array Dao. He had to study and comprehend it well.

Just from looking at the runes and cores, he couldn’t see much. He would have to apply it in practice.

So Mo Hua requested from Ba Shan a clean stone chamber, pretending to offer prayers to the Divine-Lord for divine power.

But there was no “Divine-Lord” blessing.

Because Mo Hua had no “Divine-Lord.”

He could only rely on his own strength, and drew six more Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formations.

Afterward, he instructed Ba Shan and the others to carry the wounded soldiers in and place them upon the formations for treatment.

Dan Zhu’s heart filled with gratitude.

The people of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe were moved to tears.

They had never imagined that Lord Shaman would care so deeply for them.

In just one short hour, he had exhausted his energy again, praying to the Divine-Lord for blessings, laying down sacred patterns to heal their wounded. Such immense kindness and virtue left them unable to repay him.

But Mo Hua thought little of it. He merely used the excuse of “examining injuries” to move back and forth among the Yin-Wood Formations, observing their operation and the ebb of blood against the influx of wood-energy. In this way he pondered the transitions between death and life, grasping the mysteries of the “Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation.”

Thus, the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe’s wounded gradually stabilized.

And Mo Hua’s mastery of the Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation—and his insight into the mutual transformation of deathly qi and vital life force in healing—deepened bit by bit…

…

Meanwhile, in Dao Province. Within a remote courtyard of a Fifth-Rank prefecture.

An old man with snow-white hair, wearing a bamboo hat, sat fishing by a small pond.

Though “fishing” was hardly the right word—he seemed more to be dozing.

Half-lying on the grass, a small wooden table beside him held a pot of tea and an unfinished game of chess.

On his right, a fishing rod dangled over the pond. The line was without a hook, trailing straight into the water. Naturally, no fish paid it any mind.

In the eyes of others, the old man had never once won a game of chess.

Nor had he ever caught a fish.

Yet he remained content.

As a Grand Elder of the Heavenly Authority Pavilion, he had exhausted both heart and mind. Now, in retirement, such peace was rare and precious.

Until a small golden fish in the water brushed against the line, poked its head above the surface, and looked curiously at him.

Only then did the Grand Elder stir awake.

But as soon as he opened his eyes and turned, the fish plunged back into the water with a splash, vanishing without a trace.

The Grand Elder was startled, murmuring softly:

“Too clever… how am I supposed to catch it now?”

(TN: Mo Hua, the little clever fish.)

The pond’s surface was still as a mirror.

He slowly rose, moving his rod, but with no hook, all it did was stir a few ripples.

The ripples disturbed a few large, dull-eyed fish.

These big fish floated at the surface, staring blankly at him. They showed no fear, no thought of diving for cover.

The Grand Elder looked at them, feeling a little stifled.

Why was the difference between fish so great?

The clever ones were too clever—gone in an instant without a trace.

The stupid ones were too stupid—heads sticking out of the water, courting death.

And of course, the clever fish were always the small ones.

The stupid ones were all enormous.

The Grand Elder frowned, then slowly relaxed.

“I nearly forgot—I’m retired now. No need to fret over such things…”

He tapped his finger into the air.

The teapot lifted by itself, tilted its belly, and poured tea into the waiting cup.

The cup then floated over into his hand.

The Grand Elder took a sip, leaned back into his bamboo chair, eyes half-closed, basking in sunlight and mountain breeze.

No noise of men, no weariness of documents. For a moment, he seemed hundreds of years younger.

For one overworked, “leisure” was the greatest luxury.

The Grand Elder indulged in it for a while.

But eventually, he opened his eyes again.

Looking up at the sky, his heart could not quite be still.

The wise often saw things others could not.

And once seen, such things could not be ignored.

Yet many matters were bound by fate and karma, beyond one’s power to change.

For instance—when one is meant to die, one will die.

If life force in the flesh faded, there were still arts to heal it.

But if the karmic thread of life was severed—that was true death without hope.

Even if spared calamity of the flesh, one could not escape the death decreed by karma.

The Grand Elder gazed at the clear sky, and finally sighed deeply, placing a white stone upon the chessboard.

But instantly, the white stone was devoured by the black.

The black stones spread into a dreadful haze, seeming to consume all that was white.

The Grand Elder’s eyes grew solemn. He murmured:

“You must… be a little cleverer. Learn a little more…”

“By no means… must you die in this tribulation…”

…

The vast wilderness of three thousand lands.

Within the stone hall of the Shugu Tribe’s secret branch in the Vermilion Sparrow Mountain Realm.

Mo Hua was still bowing his head, studying the myriad transformations of the Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation, when suddenly his heart trembled. He couldn’t help but lift his head toward the heavens.

But in the stone hall, raising his head only revealed the roof — there was no sky to be seen at all.

Mo Hua felt uneasy. After pondering for a moment, he shook his head and once again immersed himself in researching the Yin-Wood Formation and the changes between life and death.

He wanted to comprehend these unfamiliar and abstruse formation transformations as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, before he had studied for long, the Bifang Tribe attacked again.

This time, Bi Jie himself led the troops.

Bi Jie raided the surrounding small tribes, capturing a mass of barbarian slaves. He then ordered these slaves to be used as cannon fodder in the vanguard to assault the Shugu secret branch. Meanwhile, the elite of the Bifang Tribe conserved their strength in the rear, biding their time to slaughter the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe’s warriors.

Battle erupted at once.

After fierce fighting, both sides retreated.

Yet many of the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe’s warriors were once again poisoned by Bloodfang Toxin, bleeding ceaselessly.

The next day, Bi Jie led another assault, repeating the same tactics and causing further casualties.

His plan was indeed to wear the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe down to death.

Once their warriors were gone, he would overwhelm with numbers and encircle Dan Zhu, wiping them out.

As for seizing their supplies and armaments—naturally, that would be as easy as picking them up.

This was Bi Jie’s original intent.

But what baffled him was that things weren’t developing according to his expectations at all.

The Vermilion Sparrow Tribe’s warriors simply weren’t “dying” in great numbers.

In fact, many who had been poisoned by Bloodfang Toxin reappeared on the battlefield after just a few days.

Impossible!

Bi Jie’s gaze grew icy.

This poison was one he had treasured for a long time, one that virtually had no cure. Once afflicted, a warrior’s blood and life-force would continually drain away.

Even with medicine to replenish them, with so many poisoned, how could they possibly recover?

“What is going on? Which wretch dares ruin my plans?”

Bi Jie’s expression twisted into a snarl. A pure, holy white face suddenly surfaced in his mind.

On the other side, Mo Hua’s expression was equally grim.

He knew this couldn’t go on like this…

(End of this Chapter)