Chapter 1189: Technique and Dao

Chapter 1188: Technique and Dao

Cause and Effect Technique, Cause and Effect Technique—the greatest fallacy lies within that word: “Technique.”

I relied too much on “technique.”

And I took it for granted that once I had mastered the Cause and Effect “technique,” I could, by relying on divine sense and computational power, by relying on this “art,” pierce through reality and deduce all secrets and causalities I wished to know.

But this understanding was wrong.

Utterly and gravely wrong.

Mo Hua’s pupils trembled; with full concentration, he reflected on his causal divinations since entering the Great Wilderness, and a dawning clarity rose in his heart.

The Cause and Effect Technique is a great Dao-art that consumes divine thought to deduce the causal threads of things.

On the path of cultivation, this belongs to the domain of the “illusory.”

And the “illusory” must necessarily be founded upon the “real.”

Without the real, the illusory cannot exist.

In other words, only by first knowing the objective, concrete state of all things can one, through the Cause and Effect Technique, deduce the future, fortune, or misfortune.

Without understanding the myriad phenomena of heaven and earth, without knowing their true state, to rely solely on Cause and Effect Technique for deduction is impossible—one cannot obtain the correct causality.

“Technique” is important.

But “technique” is only a bridge, a tool leading from the real to the illusory, ultimately achieving the unity of both.

Blind faith in “technique” is worse than having no technique at all.

Excessive reliance on it, attempting to divine all things through vain deductions, is nothing but delusion—ending only in arrogance and self-deception.

Mo Hua reflected a moment and quickly realized: when he derived the “Heaven, Earth, and Man” triad, it was precisely this mistake he had made.

He had sat in the stone chamber, never stepping outside.

Confident in his strong divine sense and superior causal arts, he thought he could directly deduce the timing, terrain, and hearts of men in the Bi Fang Tribe’s attack.

This was no different from “discussing warfare on paper.”

It was, likewise, arrogance born of blind trust in technique.

Mo Hua took this to heart as a warning and continued pondering.

Following this line of thought, the true “Heaven, Earth, and Man” triad was likely never meant to be derived through causal arts alone, behind closed doors.

Instead, it required entering reality itself—seeing with one’s own eyes, observing personally, then continuously contemplating and summarizing. With “reality” as the medium, aided by divine computational power, one could finally deduce, step by step.

That is true deduction: from real to illusory, uniting both.

Not mere reliance on “divination techniques” while shut away.

“From the real to the illusory, with the real as medium, the illusory as method…”

“Observe the heavens, examine the land, know the human heart, deduce the cause and effect…”

Mo Hua murmured these words, and all his doubts suddenly cleared. The deeper his insight into causality, the brighter his eyes grew.

He then lifted his head to look at the heavens, then at the surrounding terrain, before choosing a path forward of his own accord.

He wished to test his newfound understanding of causality.

Chi Feng noticed how Mo Hua would stand frozen in place, falling into thought, muttering to himself, sometimes self-reproachful, sometimes enlightened, his gaze blazing. Chi Feng found it strange.

“Are all Shamans this… eccentric?”

He frowned, but still followed along.

Mo Hua walked through the valleys of the Shugu Tribe. At times he looked to the sky, sensing the flow of time, the shifting of clouds, the spread of miasma. At times he studied the terrain, each blade of grass, each rock and patch of soil. All of it he etched unerringly into his mind.

Thus, after half a day’s journey, the heavens and terrain were thoroughly mapped in his heart.

But heaven and earth alone were insufficient. Mo Hua turned and asked Chi Feng:

“What of the Bi Fang Tribe’s troops? What kind of barbarian armor do they wear? What are their soldiers’ temperaments, their combat habits, their killing methods? And further…”

“In recent days—when, where, and how did they launch ambushes? How exactly did the attacks unfold? And from where did they retreat in the end?”

The barbarian general Chi Feng did not fully understand, but still answered in detail, recounting everything to Mo Hua.

Then, fearing Mo Hua might not grasp it, he climbed up a cliff and pointed from above, showing him all the locations where the Bi Fang Tribe had launched their night raids.

Where they attacked, where they turned when blocked, where they finally withdrew.

Mo Hua followed his gestures carefully, taking it all in and committing it to memory.

Now Heaven, Earth, and Man were all accounted for.

His gaze sharpened, and he turned to Chi Feng: “Lord Chi Feng, protect me.”

Chi Feng was startled for a moment, then nodded solemnly: “Alright.”

Mo Hua sat cross-legged on the ground and slowly closed his eyes.

Within his mind, his powerful divine sense began to move.

Strands of thought transformed into mountains, rocks, and forests, constructing in his sea of consciousness the entire terrain of the Shugu valleys, exactly as he had observed.

When the terrain was set, divine thought shifted again, manifesting into the sky.

There appeared sun and moon, dividing night and day; stars scattered; seas of clouds roiled.

By divine thought, Mo Hua had fully “replicated” the heavens and earth before him.

Within this replicated world, the past events unfolded once more.

Bi Jie leading the Bi Fang Tribe’s warriors in their assault on the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe.

Dan Zhu and Chi Feng intercepting them.

Experts clashing, barbarian soldiers slaughtering in the forests.

As time passed, the terrain shifted, people were wounded or slain.

All of this, formed by divine thought, played out in Mo Hua’s mind, simulated and replayed with immense computational force—like a shadow play, lifelike.

This was a reproduction of the past.

And as time advanced, this replay of the “past” gradually reached its end—merging into the present.

Everything that had already happened was shown.

What would come next, however, was still unknown.

The world of divine thought froze.

But Mo Hua did not cease deducing.

His divine sense surged on.

Vast, Dao-infused divine thought poured like golden rivers into the illusory world, pushing causality forward.

From his body emanated an obscure, terrifying aura, like that of a god.

Chi Feng’s expression changed; his chest felt a faint suffocation.

Time flowed on, and Mo Hua’s aura grew ever more ethereal.

Chi Feng was struck dumb, while Mo Hua’s vast divine thought, consumed by the Heavenly Secret Derivative Algorithm, drained rapidly.

At last, with a thunderous boom, his computational power broke through a certain threshold.

In the simulated world, causality no longer stagnated—time flowed forward.

Clouds shifted in the sky, grass and trees swayed on the earth.

The figures within surpassed the present moment, moving on with new actions.

This was simulation, deduction—a higher form of derivation.

The people of this divine-thought world acted out the next events, driven by the causal threads of the present.

Mo Hua finally saw the “future.”

He saw sun setting, moon rising, jagged mountains, the Bi Fang Tribe appearing in a new, unfamiliar place, then stealthily advancing to strike the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe.

He saw Dan Zhu locked in a desperate battle with Bi Jie.

He saw Dan Zhu covered in wounds, Bi Jie’s face bearing a defiant grin.

He saw Vermilion Sparrow warriors falling one after another to the tribe’s ambush.

He saw a poison more vicious than Bloodfang Poison consuming the lives of the Vermilion Sparrow soldiers.

He saw Chi Feng too struck by venom, entangled and worn down by another mid-stage Golden Core of the Bi Fang Tribe, his face twisted in fury… amidst the bloodshed, barbarian soldiers fell like ants, one after another…

Then all images cut off abruptly.

The divine-thought world collapsed.

Causal threads snapped.

Mo Hua’s eyes flew open, his hands clutching his head as though countless blades sliced through his sea of consciousness.

His divine sense was exhausted.

His computational power overdrafted.

He had borne far beyond his ability in the Heavenly Secret Derivative Algorithm.

Even black light seeped from his forehead, tendrils of deathly aura coiling around him.

Chi Feng’s pupils contracted. “Mister Wu!”

Mo Hua glanced at him.

His eyes were black, cold, and cruel.

That one look made even Chi Feng, a mid-stage Golden Core, feel icy fear in his organs, not daring to move.

But Mo Hua quickly realized the danger. He shut his eyes at once, stilled his breath, and used the meditation his master had taught him to calm his consciousness, employing the Supreme Severing of Emotions to banish stray thoughts.

He thought of his parents, his master, his Little Senior Brother, his Little Senior Sister, of the elders and friends he had known since childhood—using these to anchor his humanity and safeguard his memory.

Though complex in description, Mo Hua had practiced this many times. In only a few breaths, it took effect.

The instant exhaustion and overdraft of divine sense had triggered calamity-energy, but it was not as lasting as killing karma.

It had not yet reached the point of true “loss of control.”

After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Mo Hua stilled his heart.

His divine sense recovered slightly, his sea of consciousness stabilized, the baleful aura around his body dispersed, and the blackness in his eyes faded away.

Mo Hua slowly opened his eyes.

Only then did Chi Feng look at him with a grave expression and ask in a deep voice, “Mister Wu, are you alright?”

Mo Hua shook his head. “I’m fine.”

Chi Feng’s gaze remained wary. “Just now, you…”

Mo Hua felt a jolt in his heart—he realized that his state of the Life-Calamity had been noticed by Chi Feng. His mind turned slightly, and with a solemn face he said:

“Just now, I prayed to the Divine-Lord, beseeching an oracle, hoping the Divine-Lord would tell us what to do.”

“But midway, I was obstructed by heretical demons. I fought them in blood and nearly lost my mind.”

“Fortunately, under the Divine-Lord’s protection, I defeated the demons and did not betray His trust.”

Mo Hua spoke with utmost seriousness, as if he were describing a righteous battle.

He turned his affliction into a tale of “struggling against evil.”

Chi Feng frowned, thought for a moment, and actually felt… it made sense.

As a Shaman, one who worships gods would naturally encounter the harassment of heretical demons.

Such harassment could indeed drive one to madness and manifest in strange ways.

But now, Mister Wu’s gaze was clear and his bearing calm, clearly showing he had triumphed over the demons and safeguarded his heart.

Thinking of this, Chi Feng’s heart was filled with respect. He sighed,

“The path of faith is fraught with perils—one misstep and there’s no return. Mister Wu’s will is steadfast; no wonder you could become Lord Shaman.”

Mo Hua nodded, deeply agreeing.

Chi Feng continued: “I wonder… did the Divine-Lord grant any instructions?”

“Yes.” Mo Hua exhaled slightly and nodded. “The Divine-Lord has already given me His command.”

Chi Feng’s eyes brightened. “Please speak plainly, Lord Shaman.”

Mo Hua extended his fair hand, pointing to a steep cliff ahead on the left, and said with absolute certainty:

“At dawn tomorrow, at the end of the Yin hour, the Bifang Tribe will launch a surprise attack from there. Forty men, led by an early Golden Core cultivator. This will be their vanguard.”

Then he pointed toward another dense forest on the right:

“Half an hour later, the Bifang Tribe will feign east and strike west, launching a full assault from here. Bi Jie at the head, with eighty men.”

“On both sides, they will drive forward a hundred barbarian slaves each, only to throw their lives away.”

“This ambush is no trivial matter. The Bifang Tribe’s warriors will all wear barbarian armor, armed with sharp blades, fighting to the death.”

“They will also use stronger poisons. Colorless, tasteless—touch it and flesh rots, breathe it and you faint.”

“Not only second-grade poison, but also third-grade—meant to deal with you and Dan…”

Mo Hua narrated everything he had deduced through his divine sense, constructing Heaven and Earth, simulating human action, and grasping causality.

At first, Chi Feng wasn’t too concerned. But the more he listened, the grimmer his face became, until he was completely shaken.

How could he possibly know all this?

So detailed… this wasn’t “divine instruction” anymore, this was like getting the answers to an “open-book exam” in war.

He looked at Mo Hua’s fair and solemn face, his own expression unable to hide the shock.

…

The next day, during the Chou hour, before dawn.

Outside the Shugu Tribe, in the shadowy mountains and forests.

The Vermilion Sparrow Tribe warriors were already hidden in the mountains, preparing to ambush first—according to the agreed plan—before the Bifang Tribe’s sneak attack.

They split into two groups: Dan Zhu and Ba Chuan led one, while Chi Feng and Ba Shan led the other.

At this moment, Chi Feng and Ba Shan were stationed with their men at a treacherous mountain pass.

Every one of them wore barbarian armor, their flesh wrapped tight, with tough hide armor beneath, and herbs smeared over their skin to slow poison’s corrosion and paralysis.

Upon their armor, Mo Hua had hastily drawn wood-element arrays to absorb toxins.

The ambush site had been carefully chosen.

Every step of the ambush had been meticulously planned.

This was indeed an “open-book exam”—the test questions had all been leaked by Mo Hua.

For a seasoned general like Chi Feng, there was no reason not to prepare thoroughly.

Yet doubts still lingered in his heart.

Not only Chi Feng—even the Vermilion Sparrow warriors were filled with confusion and uncertainty.

“Can a battle… really be fought this way?”

Ba Shan, the burly elder, crouched in the forest under the dark night, unable to hold back as he asked Chi Feng:

“Lord Chi Feng, what Mister Wu said—could it really be true? Could he really know the future? It’s true the Shamans of the Royal Court can divine fortune and misfortune, but never this detailed! This is like pulling down the Bifang Tribe’s pants—and seeing their eggs clear as day…”

Chi Feng shot him a solemn look.

Ba Shan shut up immediately.

The surroundings fell quiet, the night wind whispering. After a while, Chi Feng shook his head.

“I don’t know either… whether Mister Wu’s words are true or false. But in all my years of war, I have indeed met some strange figures—hidden shamans, and even proper Royal Court shamans.”

“Some experts do possess the ability to divine fortune and calamity.”

“But ‘fortune and calamity’ is only a vague concept.”

“Compared with Mister Wu’s ‘divine oracle’—they are worlds apart.”

“To predict the enemy’s route of attack, the time, the place, the numbers, the methods, the movements… in such detail? This kind of ‘oracle’ is simply too outrageous.”

Chi Feng truly found it hard to believe.

But facts showed that Mister Wu never lied. His words usually came true, and his actions were beyond the reach of ordinary men.

So—even if there was only the slimmest chance—this ambush was worth setting.

Chi Feng said in a deep voice: “Stay focused. Stay alert.”

“Yes.” Ba Shan nodded, not daring to be careless.

The mountain wind howled bleakly, time slipping away little by little.

Finally, at the end of the Yin hour—the very time foretold by Mo Hua’s “oracle”—faint traces of human breath drifted from the distant darkness.

Moments later, the forest stirred, and a group of barbarian soldiers emerged like phantoms.

They were lightly equipped, blades in hand, moving with disciplined silence, their presence faint in the night.

“They’ve come!”

Chi Feng’s pupils contracted. He studied them carefully and found that these barbarian soldiers matched Mister Wu’s description exactly.

Their marching time and route were flawless to the detail.

Though the battle hadn’t yet begun, Chi Feng suddenly felt as though he had already fought it once before—an uncanny familiarity.

Ba Shan too was stunned.

“Mister Wu’s words… are actually true? He truly can foresee as if by prophecy?”

“This young-faced Mister Wu… he’s frighteningly strong…”

Chi Feng and Ba Shan exchanged a glance, both their eyes turning colder.

All these days of being ambushed and besieged by the Bifang Tribe—the rage surged in their chests.

At last, the chance for vengeance had come.

Murderous intent burst forth like a beast unchained.

A flaming great blade tore through the darkness, Golden Core spiritual power blazing like infernal flames of purgatory, instantly severing several of the Bifang Tribe’s barbarian soldiers into pieces.

Then, the trap formations detonated.

Many of the Bifang Tribe’s soldiers were caught by the formation, sinking into mud and sand, or trapped in stone prisons, unable to move in an instant.

The Vermilion Sparrow Tribe’s soldiers rushed forward and hacked them to death with wild slashes.

“Kill! Kill!”

Their blood boiled, and in an instant the Vermilion Sparrow Tribe had gone bloodthirsty with madness.

This was a completely unexpected ambush, throwing the Bifang Tribe into chaos.

At the same time, battles in other places also broke out.

Danzhu’s Vermilion Bird Mystic-Flame Feather Robe lit up the night sky.

In the mountain forest under nightfall, formations, spiritual power, and blood energy flared and clashed in succession.

The intent to kill shook the mountains, and the night wind already carried the stench of blood.

The warring sides remained unchanged, but the tide of battle shifted—attack and defense, pursuit and escape, were reversed.

Mo Hua sat steadily on the beam of the stone hall, gazing into the distance, watching the fire across the mountains.

He was both observing the battlefield and, within his heart, preliminarily testing his comprehension of the “Heaven, Earth, and Man” triad of Dao, as well as his deeper understanding of the art of Cause and Effect.

Cause and Effect was not some “mystical” study, but a divine science built upon the foundation of the “real”—a fusion of reality and illusion.

Cause and Effect could not be severed from the present world, could not be calculated in emptiness, could not be studied in a void.

Cause and Effect had its techniques, but “technique” was merely a medium, a bridge.

One could use “technique,” but could not depend on it.

“Technique” was like a raft, aiding one in crossing the sea of Cause and Effect, reaching the far shore in pursuit of the “Great Dao.”

The purpose of technique was always for the sake of Dao.

Mo Hua paused, and in a daze recalled that, back when his master taught him formations, he had said something similar.

The formation patterns, hubs, and eyes were merely “forms,” appearances, media for comprehending the Dao.

One must diligently study and comprehend formations.

But the ultimate goal was not to cling to formations themselves, but through them, to perceive the Dao of formations, and even to seek the ultimate “Great Dao of Immortality.” Cause and Effect was the same as formations; the relationship between technique and Dao was the same as well.

The Great Dao has ten thousand paths, yet all lead to the same destination.

Techniques may differ in a thousand ways, yet they connect and correspond.

Mo Hua’s gaze trembled, his spirit gradually growing clear.

It felt as though all he had studied, heard, sensed, and pondered over these past twenty or thirty years—all those miscellaneous formations and cultivation methods—were now converging, merging together before him, condensing into the embryonic form of a Dao.

A Dao rooted in divine sense, capable of encompassing myriad methods—his very own Dao.

(End of this Chapter)