Chapter 1257: Rejuvenation and Bone-Carving

Chapter 1256: Rejuvenation and Bone-Carving

The Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation was the first-place prize of the Sword Debate Grand Assembly, granted by the Heavenly Pivot Pavilion of the Dao Court.

Among all the rewards, this formation appeared to be the most insignificant one.

Many even failed to understand why the Dao Court would use such an obscure and seemingly useless “healing array” as the prize for a grand event like the Sword Debate.

But Mo Hua knew well—this was a “bait” deliberately placed for him.

Since someone had the qualification and intent to use such a “bait” to lure him, this array must conceal certain profound mysteries.

From his current study, on the surface, this formation could treat injuries and suppress the loss of blood essence—a medical formation.

Yet, deeper within, it contained faint traces of the laws of “life and death” transformation.

Why this was so, Mo Hua still could not comprehend.

Whether this formation possessed some greater use was beyond his current cultivation and comprehension.

Even so, the ability to restrain blood loss and restore vitality through Yin-Wood Qi was already extremely useful to him.

Especially crucial in this ongoing tribal war.

War meant killing, and killing meant casualties.

With the Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation to save the wounded, casualties could be reduced drastically—in terms of manpower alone, the Vermilion Sparrow Alliance effectively gained an advantage of thirty to forty percent over the Wujiao Tribe.

Though building and maintaining the arrays consumed precious spiritual stones—a scarce resource in the Great Wilderness—the current situation left no room for stinginess.

Taking advantage of the war’s large-scale construction efforts, Mo Hua built numerous Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formations.

As the fighting intensified and death tolls mounted, he simultaneously used this opportunity to simulate the principles of “life and death” through the battlefield’s carnage, deepening his comprehension of those laws.

In a sense, this was also a kind of “fortune through war” — insight into the laws of life and death born from observing countless lives perishing.

Mo Hua did not desire it, but he could not refuse it either.

Once he attained a rudimentary understanding of these laws and fully grasped the essence of the Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation, he planned to inscribe it upon his own bones—to remedy the defects within his Bone-Carving Art.

To engrave his Life bound Spiritual-Skeleton Formation, he would need to use this Bone-Carving technique—literally carving a formation onto his own skeleton.

Before that, his bones must be reforged through the Wood-White-Gold-Jade Bone Forging Art.

The Wood-White-Gold-Jade Bone method was a treasured secret art of the Bai Clan—a top-tier body-forging technique of the “Copper Skin, Iron Bone” type.

It could merge one’s bones with two kinds of heavenly treasures—the Essence of Wood-White and the Marrow of Gold-Jade—thereby enhancing and strengthening the body.

This was both powerful and elegant—the forged bones shone like gold and jade, imbued with a gentle aura akin to wood.

However, Mo Hua was not a body cultivator; his bones were fragile by nature.

Even with the enhancement of the Wood-White-Gold-Jade Bone, the improvement would be limited.

His true purpose was to integrate Wood-White-Gold-Jade into his bones as the array medium for the Taotie Twelve-Meridian-Spiritual-Skeleton Formation.

The Taotie Twelve-Meridian-Spiritual-Skeleton Formation was a Twenty-Four Rune Absolute Formation, associated with the Taotie—undoubtedly a ferocious array.

Given Mo Hua’s frail constitution, directly engraving such a formation would shatter his body; if struck by the ferocious backlash of the Taotie’s force, he might literally “shatter into dust.”

Therefore, he first needed to reinforce his bones with the Wood-White-Gold-Jade method, making them durable enough to serve as the array medium and bear the backlash of his natal formation’s operation.

It was an extremely unorthodox and perilous path.

Mo Hua did not know whether anyone had ever attempted such a thing before—and even if they had, it must have been exceedingly rare.

There were virtually no existing precedents or lineages for reference.

Fortunately, Venerable Elder Xun assisted him, and the Sect Master—being of the Bai Clan—also supported him.

With their favor, he managed to obtain this secret method of Wood-White-Gold-Jade Bone Forging.

Mo Hua didn’t know the full origin of this art, but considering even the Sect Master had to personally request it for a long time, it was clearly a rare and precious inheritance, even within the Bai Clan.

Yet, even with this bone-forging method, the Bone-Carving process remained extremely dangerous.

After all, it meant literally carving the Taotie Formation into one’s own skeleton—even with Wood-White-Gold-Jade acting as a buffer, it could still harm the bone’s essence, damage meridians, and cause severe loss of blood and vitality.

This had already been proven in Tie Shù-Gu’s case.

To counteract blood loss and prevent the condensation of deathly qi, Mo Hua had pondered endlessly—eventually finding only one viable solution:

To carve an additional Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation atop the Wood-White-Gold-Jade Bone.

Using the vitality of the Rejuvenation Formation to suppress the depletion of life essence caused by the Bone-Carving process.

That way, the life force within his body could maintain a relative balance.

After that, he could engrave the Taotie Twelve-Meridian-Spiritual-Skeleton Formation upon his bones, serving as his natal artifact for Golden Core formation.

Thus, his natal artifact system would form a balanced and complete structure:

Wood-White-Gold-Jade integrated into the bones as array medium;

Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation restoring vitality to the bones;

and, upon this foundation, the Taotie Twelve-Meridian-Spiritual-Skeleton Formation, refined as his Life-Bound Treasure to drive his Spiritual Skeleton.

The three as one.

Though ostensibly a single “Life Formation,” Mo Hua had infused it with numerous peculiar integrations of his own design.

Lacking lineage and precedent, he could only define the rules himself, merging the arts by intuition and deduction.

Though the concept seemed unconventional, from the perspective of formation balance and theoretical structure, it was sound.

Bold in conception, cautious in verification, meticulous in execution—this had always been Mo Hua’s way.

He only wondered whether this time, his boldness had gone too far.

One more thing concerned him… both the Wood-White-Gold-Jade Bone and the Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation shared the character “Wood,” and both contained principles of Wood.

The former forged the bones; the latter nourished them—perfectly complementary.

Was this merely coincidence, or was there an unseen thread of fate binding them?

Mo Hua pondered for a moment, then took out a white jade slip from his storage ring.

Inscribed within were the words “Wood-White-Gold-Jade Bone Forging Art.”

“White-Gold-Jade Bone… Bai Clan…”

Mo Hua muttered softly, rubbing the smooth jade slip, his eyes distant.

“My Master… is at the Bai Clan…”

“And my Little Senior Brother… and Little Senior Sister…”

“I wonder… when I’ll see them again…”

He looked up at the sky—a haze of red and gray, the Heavenly Secrets obscured, the air thick with death and decay.

His gaze dimmed.

“For now, I just need to find a way to survive the Great Wilderness…”

“And help as many as I can, to survive this calamity…”

Though Mo Hua wished to save more lives, the war raged on—barbarian cultivators continued to fall one after another.

Where there is life, there must be death—and through death, life continues.

Mo Hua did not wish to see such carnage, but the tides of fate were beyond his control.

He could only hope this war would “reset the board,” laying the foundation for his future plans.

Meanwhile, he continued preparing meticulously for his Golden Core formation.

His focus now: the study of Bone-Carving Arts.

Back during the Arhatian Blood-Sacrifice Grand Formation, Mister Tu had briefly taught him some bone-carving methods.

However, time was short, and the teachings were incomplete. Mo Hua’s comprehension remained shallow.

Moreover, Mister Tu’s version involved carving formations upon demonic bones—whether that could be directly applied to human skeletons, Mo Hua was uncertain.

Thus, he needed to collect as many tribal texts as possible, comparing various bone-carving methods of the Great Wilderness to refine a stable, reliable art.

After all, this time he would be carving on his own bones—unlike desecrating someone else’s remains—so he could afford no mistakes.

The chaos of tribal warfare gave Mo Hua both opportunities to collect formation scripts and to secretly gather bone-carving techniques from various tribes.

The art of Bone-Carving was obscure and rarely practiced—an ancient craft few understood.

It was considered a lost art of the “ancestors,” difficult to transmit, harder to master, and of limited practical use.

Only a few formation-specialist shamans still studied it to inscribe ancient Great Wilderness Arrays.

Thus, even among the barbarian tribes, practitioners of the Bone-Carving Art were exceedingly rare, and the few lineages that survived were tightly guarded.

But Mo Hua’s current status was no longer ordinary.

Though his title of “Shaman” was somewhat nominal, his achievements in formation construction were unmatched, his prestige immense.

Leveraging his position and connections among formation masters, he managed to acquire several secret bone-carving methods from different tribes.

Yet just as he planned to gather more, the trail abruptly went cold.

Many of these “Bone-Carving” techniques had vanished—not in ancient times, but recently.

This struck Mo Hua as odd. Following the trail, he made a shocking discovery:

These bone-carving techniques were not “lost.”

They had been sold.

As for who bought them—no one knew, for the matter involved the upper echelons of the tribes.

However, while inspecting several tribal warehouses in between formation drawings, Mo Hua discovered white bottles and piles of crude Fasting Pills.

In Mo Hua’s eyes, those Fasting Pills were basically “rat droppings.”

Wherever rat droppings appeared, rats had definitely been there.

The Hua Clan…

Mo Hua’s heart sank.

The Hua Clan’s infiltration into the Vermilion Bird Mountain Realm and its various tribes was likely far deeper than he had imagined—and flawlessly concealed.

This matter, without doubt, was tied to the Hua Clan.

Yet one question lingered…

“Why would the Hua Clan trade Fasting Pills for these Bone-Carving secret techniques?”

“Coincidence?”

At first, Mo Hua believed it was mere coincidence…

That the Hua Clan, profiting from wartime chaos, had exploited the tribes with cheap goods and, by chance, swept up this particular batch of bone-carving techniques.

But when he investigated further, he realized…

This was no coincidence at all.

Whenever the Hua Clan conducted secret trades with tribal chiefs or elders, if there was even the slightest opportunity, the “Bone-Carving” methods were always included among the exchanged items.

And their method was exceedingly covert.

The bone-carving techniques were mixed among countless other Great Wilderness inheritances, unremarkable and easily overlooked.

If not for Mo Hua himself, who was currently seeking those bone-carving methods to prepare for his own Core Formation, he might never have noticed this anomaly.

That was highly suspicious…

“The Hua Clan… are they stealing my bone-carving techniques?” Mo Hua frowned.

Beyond profiting from war, hoarding Fasting Pills, and exploiting the Great Wilderness for spirit stones and resources—the Hua Clan’s true goal seemed to be plundering its heritage.

And among all those inheritances, the one they coveted most was actually the Bone-Carving Art?

Could this, perhaps, be…the true purpose of the Hua Clan’s Patriarch?

“But… why?”

“What would they want with such an obscure art?”

“Or… could there be some mystery hidden within bone-carving that I haven’t yet discovered?”

Mo Hua’s frown deepened.

The Hua Clan… and the Bone-Carving Art of the Great Wilderness…

In his understanding, those were two completely unrelated things.

What connection could possibly exist between them? Even Mo Hua could not fathom it.

“No matter what, this is a critical clue.”

“When the chance arises, I’ll have to stir up some trouble for the Hua Clan, dig out their secrets, at the very least, take back my bone-carving techniques.”

Mo Hua resolved silently.

Afterward, he began covert investigations, paying special attention to the upper ranks of the tribes.

Anyone who had dealings or collusion with the Hua Clan—anyone suspected of being a Hua Clan spy—he marked them all in his mind.

He would settle accounts later, root out the Hua Clan entirely, and uncover what exactly they were searching for.

…

Amidst this ceaseless turmoil and endless affairs, Little Zha-Tu suddenly came to find Mo Hua.

His face looked weary, his eyes slightly red—it was clear he had been crying in secret.

He gazed at Mo Hua with admiration, yet his eyes were filled with anxiety. It seemed he didn’t wish to disturb Mo Hua, but something was weighing so heavily on his heart that he couldn’t eat or sleep, he simply had to speak.

Seeing through the boy’s thoughts, Mo Hua’s heart trembled slightly. He asked softly, “You… miss your grandfather, don’t you?”

Zha-Tu nodded, eyes red.

He had been away from the Wutu Mountain Realm for quite some time now.

Since then, the famine had spread everywhere. He had no idea what had become of his home.

Whether his grandfather, Elder Zha-Mu, and his clansmen were alive or dead, or whether the famine had consumed them. The uncertainty gnawed at him constantly.

But remembering Mo Hua’s teachings—and his grandfather’s exhortations—he had thrown himself into work, suppressing his worries deep in his heart.

Yet now, with the Vermilion Bird Mountain Realm engulfed in tribal wars and countless deaths, the smaller realms like Wutu would surely have fared even worse.

Zha-Tu, still young, could not help but think of his only family, his grandfather, whose life and death were uncertain. The pain was unbearable, and so he came, seeking comfort from the one who seemed to know everything.

Mo Hua gently patted the boy’s head and said softly, “Don’t worry. Your grandfather should be fine.”

Zha-Tu’s tears welled again, this time with joy. “Teacher, really?”

Mo Hua nodded. “Mm.”

Hearing that his family and tribe were safe, Zha-Tu felt a wave of relief and happiness. Wiping his tears, he looked a bit embarrassed, feeling he still wasn’t strong enough, and that he’d lost composure before his Teacher.

He said quietly, “Teacher, I’ll get back to work now, I won’t disturb you.”

Mo Hua smiled gently and patted his shoulder. “Go on.”

Encouraged and light-hearted, Zha-Tu left, joy filling his heart.

Once the boy had gone, Mo Hua fell into deep thought.

During these times of disaster, there were too many matters to handle—too many complications. Even with his Divine-Sense, he could barely keep up.

He had nearly forgotten about the Wutu Mountain Realm altogether.

But within his spiritual intuition, there was no sign of any causal crisis, which meant Wutu Mountain Realm likely hadn’t been destroyed by the famine.

The famine maps he had obtained from the Hua Clan did not explicitly mark Wutu Mountain Realm’s fate. Mo Hua couldn’t tell whether it lay within the devoured regions, or if it had survived.

A faint unease stirred within him nonetheless.

He also didn’t know how Big Tiger was doing now.

But the current situation left him no time—returning to Wutu Mountain Realm was impossible for the moment.

Even the greatest efforts have limits.

Mo Hua, after all, was only in the Foundation Establishment stage. He could not manage everything.

“When the matter with the Wujiao Tribe is settled, I’ll find a way to go back and see for myself…”

He sighed softly.

“Not yet. The time isn’t right. My power isn’t enough, my influence isn’t enough, my control isn’t enough. I’ll have to wait—just a little longer…”

And so, he waited.

Another three months passed.

During those three months—through brutal battles and long, grueling stalemates—the Wujiao Tribe finally broke through the encirclement and advanced into the deepest reaches of the Ancient Vermilion Mountains.

Above Mount Vermilion Bird, red clouds roiled.

At the mountain’s base, the ancient divine altar stood silent.

The Wujiao Tribe chanted the name of their god—and launched their final assault.

Under those crimson blood-red clouds, before that ancient altar, amid the descent of the terrifying Wujiao Great God—the two sides would engage in one last, desperate battle to the death.

(End of this Chapter)