Chapter 1244: Causality Transference

Chapter 1243: Causality Transference

Causality Transference…

Those two words made Mo Hua’s heart tighten inexplicably.

The Shugu Ancestor patiently explained to him one by one:

“Causality Curse-Killing — from another’s causal threads, one finds the line of life and the line of death, severs the former and manipulates the latter, causing the victim’s vitality to fade until they perish by their own fate.”

“Causality Divination — through specific artifacts and secret methods, one traces the causal threads of a person, event, or object from the past, or extrapolates its trajectory into the future.”

“Causality Defense — one gathers one’s own causal threads together, forming a barrier of causality to prevent others from peering into or striking through them.”

“Causality Fate-Alteration — after discerning one’s destined fate, one uses immense arts, indomitable will, and extraordinary perseverance to forge great karmic power, forcibly twisting the threads of one’s destiny to steer life toward another fate. This is called ‘Changing Fate.’”

“Causality Avoidance — purposely avoiding certain external disastrous causal threads, or concealing, obscuring, even sealing away parts of one’s own key threads.”

“As for Causality Transference…”

The Shugu Ancestor’s tone became solemn.

“It is the act of transferring one’s own causal burden onto another person or thing. It may be used to transfer good fortune and bestow blessings—or to shift misfortune… to ward off disaster.”

Causality Transference… transferring misfortune to avert disaster?

Mo Hua’s heart gave a sharp jolt.

He instinctively felt that this art of causality was immensely profound—so much so that even his very fate began to tremble.

He couldn’t help but ask, “Do you… know the art of Causality Transference?”

The Shugu Ancestor shook his head. “I do not.”

Mo Hua frowned in disappointment. “Isn’t this supposed to be your own insight? How can you have insights into something you can’t even perform?”

The Ancestor replied calmly, “One doesn’t have to eat pork to know how pigs run. I’ve merely observed the records of the Shugu Tribe’s ancient causal techniques and pondered upon them myself.”

You mean to say your ancestors were the pigs in that metaphor…

Mo Hua silently complained, though he courteously kept the thought to himself.

The Ancestor sighed reverently.

“The Arts of Causality are vast and profound. Even a cultivator who dedicates his entire life may only master one or two branches deeply—and that already makes him extraordinary. To master them all is impossible.”

“I am best at ‘Causality Curse-Killing’ and ‘Causality Avoidance’; the rest, I only understand superficially.”

Mo Hua squinted. “You really excel at ‘Causality Avoidance,’ do you?”

You couldn’t even avoid me—how’s that ‘excelling’?

The Shugu Ancestor looked a bit choked. “Only certain avoidable threads… can be avoided. Some things are Heaven’s Will. Those cannot be evaded.”

Mo Hua pondered briefly, then his eyes lit up.

“If, hypothetically, someone wanted to hunt me down—say, you—how could I avoid your pursuit?”

The Shugu Ancestor hurriedly said, “That’s not prop—”

Mo Hua’s expression hardened. “I said hypothetically.”

“…Very well.” The Ancestor sighed and began to reason carefully. “If I were to hunt you, then what you must do is hide every causal thread of yourself—leave no trace for me to seize.”

Mo Hua leaned forward. “Be specific.”

The Ancestor replied:

“Your true name, your birth date and hour, your place of origin, your spiritual root’s grade, your master’s name, your kin and loved ones, your Dao companion, your cultivation path, your arts and techniques—all of these hold causal connections. Anyone with intent could use a single thread to harm you.”

“But the most lethal among them are your inheritance and Dao foundation. Those must never be revealed.”

Mo Hua blinked. “Not the birth date?”

The Ancestor chuckled lightly. “That’s what people ignorant of causality believe. If one could kill with just a birth date, murder would be far too easy.”

“Causality isn’t mere mysticism—it’s grounded in reality.”

“For weak mortals, their fate is easily bound to birth and time. But the higher one’s realm and strength, the stronger one’s causal force, and the less one is bound by those trivial details.”

“For a cultivator, the greatest causal tie is his cultivation itself—and everything derived from it: techniques, Dao laws, formations, pills, talismans, and tools.”

“The stronger the cultivation, the greater the force of causality.”

“Thus, for those who walk the Dao, the Dao foundation is the most vital causal thread of all.”

“Your root techniques, the essence of your Dao, the strength and weakness of your inheritance—none of these must ever be shown to others. Once a master of causality finds the flaw in your cultivation foundation, he can grasp your fatal thread—and then, you are doomed.”

Mo Hua nodded solemnly.

In short—it was about concealment.

Never expose your trump cards. Never flaunt your true power for vanity’s sake.

He had always acted that way out of his master’s teachings… but now he understood the causal logic behind it.

The more one reveals, the more danger one invites.

A true name might be harmless, but once one’s lineage, kin, Dao companion, and sect ties are all exposed, others could exploit those causal links for harm.

And worse still—if one’s cultivation foundation and heritage are fully understood, one could be easily calculated against and slain through causality.

Those most skilled at swimming drown; those best at riding fall.

Such was the principle.

Therefore—multiple identities, many layers of disguise.

Many methods, many masks. Never let anyone discern your true depth.

That was the way to protect oneself through causality—and perhaps, when facing great tribulations, the way to avert disaster and grasp a sliver of survival.

Yet, what truly occupied Mo Hua’s thoughts was still that Causality Transference.

He asked again, “You truly don’t know that art?”

The Ancestor sighed. “Truly.”

“Then among your tribe’s ancestors—did any of them know it?”

“There were some…” the Ancestor admitted. “But the art of transference is the most difficult of all causal laws. Even among the masters of my generation, only a handful ever learned it.”

“And those few—every one of them was at least of the Fourth Grade, and without exception… all are long dead.”

Mo Hua’s eyes narrowed. “They’re all buried in the White Bone Mausoleum?”

The Ancestor nodded. “Yes.”

Mo Hua instinctively turned to gaze at the mausoleum behind him. A strange gleam flickered in his eyes.

The Ancestor suddenly felt uneasy. “Daoist friend, you’re not thinking—”

Mo Hua said matter-of-factly, “Call them out. I have a few questions.”

The Ancestor was horrified. “Impossible!”

Mo Hua tilted his head. “If you’re embarrassed, I can try instead. I am a guest here, after all—occasional rudeness can be forgiven.”

The Shugu Ancestor’s soul nearly leapt out of his bones. “No, no! They can’t be awakened!”

“How would you know if you don’t try?” Mo Hua mused, already contemplating… grave-digging.

The Ancestor grew frantic. “Truly impossible! Without descendant bloodlines, they cannot be awakened. Moreover—this is a Third-Grade land. To awaken a Fourth-Grade ancestor’s remains might leak Heavenly Secrets! Who knows what horrors that might unleash!”

Seeing his terror, Mo Hua asked quietly, “Truly?”

“Truly!” The Ancestor nodded desperately.

Mo Hua sighed, slightly disappointed. “Fine, forget it.”

Only then did the Ancestor breathe a long sigh of relief.

But Mo Hua still wasn’t quite done. After thinking for a bit, he asked again,

“Then do you know where else I might learn the art of Causality Transference?”

“This…” the Ancestor frowned. “Perhaps within the Royal Court of the Great Wilderness. They might still preserve such a legacy. But… that was in my lifetime. Who knows how many centuries have passed? Whether the Court still stands, or the inheritance survives—that’s uncertain.”

Mo Hua’s eyes gleamed. “Your Royal Court—was it filled with treasures?”

“Of course,” the Ancestor said proudly. “The Royal Court was the heart of the Great Wilderness’ royal bloodline—its deepest foundation. It gathered all manner of supreme inheritances and wondrous secret arts—enough to let one be reborn, defy Heaven, and change fate itself!”

His face glowed with pride, then he asked curiously, “By the way, Daoist friend… I’ve been buried so long underground—how fares the royal bloodline of the Great Wilderness now?”

Mo Hua’s expression turned complicated. He wasn’t sure whether to tell him the truth—that the royal bloodline had long perished.

The royal clan had fallen ages ago.

Though it now sought revival, the Dao Court’s army pressed from without, famine spread within, noble clans exploited the people, tribes warred endlessly, and his Senior Martial Uncle was sharpening his blade to cultivate Dao-Sin through slaughter.

Whichever way one looked at it—it was as good as dead.

“The royal clan… still exists,” Mo Hua finally said. “Not as glorious as before, but at least the bloodline endures.”

“…Still endures. That’s enough,” the Ancestor murmured, eyes dim yet faintly comforted.

Even death hadn’t erased his loyalty; it was carved into his bones.

The two fell silent after that.

Mo Hua had asked what he came to ask. They had “exchanged” plenty of insights on causality—mostly a one-sided lecture, but still fruitful for both.

He nodded thoughtfully, then glanced up at the towering, half-decayed figure of the Ancestor. For a brief moment, he considered… eating him.

But seeing that half-rotten body, he instantly lost his appetite.

Besides, after asking so many questions, eating the other party afterward felt… well, a little too ungrateful.

“Forget it…”

Mo Hua stood up and looked around. There wasn’t much worth taking anyway.

After all, this White Bone Mausoleum existed only on the level of Divine-Sense.

However, there was one “thing” that caught his attention…

Pointing toward the self-slain “Tie Shù-Gu,” Mo Hua asked, “He shouldn’t be completely dead yet, right?”

“This…” The Shugu ancestor seemed to understand Mo Hua’s intention and looked troubled. “He has already offered his life force to me.”

Mo Hua said, “He killed himself and gave his life to you so you could kill me. Now that you can’t kill me, shouldn’t you return that life to sender?” Then he added, “I still have use for this person.”

The ancestor sighed. “Since Daoist friend has spoken, then… very well. I shall return his life-soul.”

“There’s one more thing,” Mo Hua added after a pause. “Tell him a few words—make sure he stays loyal and serves me faithfully. Also… since you’re the ancestor, when you have time, send a dream to those few Golden Core cultivators of your Shugu Tribe—especially that big fellow called Lu-Gu—tell them I’m a friend of your tribe.”

Mo Hua looked at the ancestor and continued: “Tell them I’m a friend of your Shugu ancestors, an ancient Shaman who has lived for… uh… two thousand years, and that I’ve now descended into the mortal world to save them from calamity and restore the glory of the Shugu Tribe.”

The Shugu ancestor couldn’t hide the shock in his expression.

This little Daoist’s ability to spout nonsense with a straight face was truly extraordinary.

In the blink of an eye, he had turned himself into a two-thousand-year-old elder.

“Is there a problem?” Mo Hua asked him.

The ancestor hesitated.

As an ancestral spirit, he couldn’t just resurrect only to immediately deceive his descendants.

Mo Hua, however, said solemnly, “I’m not joking. You’ve been dead too long; you don’t understand the situation outside. Things are dire—the Shugu Tribe is hanging by a thread. If I don’t help them, they’ll be wiped out sooner or later.”

The corner of the ancestor’s mouth twitched. This “childlike” Daoist before him was utterly absurd.

He could spin lies so smoothly it almost sounded like truth.

Yet, when the ancestor secretly pinched his fingers to divine the Great Wilderness’s fate, his expression changed drastically in terror.

This was… a death calamity?!

He looked at Mo Hua and nodded. “Then… I must trouble Daoist friend. Please, preserve a thread of our Shugu Tribe’s bloodline. I would be eternally grateful.”

Mo Hua blinked in surprise, then nodded in return.

Speaking with a man of Causality was easy—there was no need to waste words; he understood everything on his own.

Their conversation ended, and there was nothing else to do.

Mo Hua glanced at the ancestor one last time but couldn’t bring himself to kill him. “Send me out now,” he said. “Otherwise, I’m afraid if I get hungry, I won’t be able to stop myself.”

The ancestor’s expression stiffened in fright. “Y-Yes, yes! This old one will send Daoist friend out immediately.”

“The things I told you to do?” Mo Hua reminded.

The ancestor replied quickly, “I will carry them out without fail.”

Mo Hua nodded.

Then, the Shugu ancestor formed a hand seal, stirring the blood-red lines of karma, and began sending Mo Hua away.

Mo Hua’s figure gradually faded from the bone hall, drawn along the karmic threads.

Before disappearing completely, he looked back one final time, his heart stirred slightly.

This Shugu ancestor… was no ordinary being.

The way it manipulated the karmic threads—so precise and effortless—could only come from one who had delved deeply into the mysteries of cause and effect for countless years.

Just as he instinctively used his Divine-Sense to control arrays, this ancestor’s gestures seemed simple, yet were proof of immense mastery.

Moreover, the insights it had shared earlier—about unraveling karmic laws through karmic lines—were far from ordinary. Such knowledge was definitely beyond what a mere Golden Core cultivator could comprehend, even if it was the Shugu Tribe’s Ancestor.

If his guess was right, all that inheritance likely came from that figure long buried in the Great Wilderness’s history—the one no one dared to speak of…

The Grand Shaman Priest.

Mo Hua murmured inwardly, then suppressed his thoughts, showing no trace of emotion as he left the hall.

After Mo Hua departed, the half-decayed Shugu ancestor’s formerly “obsequious” expression slowly vanished, replaced by cold indifference.

Step by step, it approached the self-slain Tie Shù-Gu, extended its bony finger, and touched his forehead. Its voice rasped:

“You… are to serve that Daoist friend…”

“Work for him…”

“Follow him… even if it costs your life…”

(End of this Chapter)