Chapter 1288: The Famine-Calamity Grand Formation
Chapter 1287: The Famine-Calamity Grand Formation
The stone walls had turned into rotting flesh. The formation lines were black-red, rough, and bulging like blood vessels, deeply rooted into the bedrock. With every tremor, laws circulated through them, greedily drinking the vitality of the land, and simultaneously transforming that “hunger” into the power of Famine-Calamity, channeling it across the Great Wilderness.
Each formation rune contained a dense concentration of laws.
Each formation hub twisted the inherent framework of standard formations.
Every single sub-formation surpassed its own grade—each one an Absolute Formation…
Mo Hua walked within the Wujiao Forbidden Ground, inside the Famine-Calamity Grand Formation itself. Seeing the scenes around him, his mind sank into them; shock roared through his heart. This was a grand formation entirely constructed from Absolute Formations, forged from the power of the Taotie—an Absolute-Dao “Famine-Calamity” Grand Formation.
And it had nearly erased all fixed formation structures.
Traditional formations relied on earth, stone, metal, and iron as mediums; spiritual liquid and beast blood as ink; fixed strokes as runes; predetermined structures as hubs; and spirit stones as the cores that gather qi.
All of those were merely objective “dead” formations.
But the Absolute-Dao Grand Formation before him resembled a living creature—its conception bizarre, its craftsmanship miraculous.
It was as though…
Mo Hua’s brows tightened.
“Using the formation core as a heart, the hubs as bones, the runes as meridians, the ink as blood, the mediums as flesh… forming a living formation creature…”
At that thought, his heart trembled.
Past fragmented memories of formations resurfaced and assembled on their own in his mind.
The Arhatian Blood-Sacrifice Grand Formation constructed by Mister Tu used the “heart” of an ancient beast as its formation core, and that beast’s bones as the hubs. The formation itself used blood as ink and corrupted the medium into flesh.
His own life-bound formation— the Taotie Twelve-Meridian-Spiritual-Skeleton Formation—also used his own bones as the medium, his meridians as hubs. His own flesh and blood had, to a certain extent, fused with the Taotie Formation.
And then…
That Grand Shaman Priest.
If his guess was correct, the Four Symbols Sacred Beasts of the Great Wilderness were artificial “composite beasts,” created by the Grand Shaman Priest through some kind of formation.
This, too, was a kind of “Living formation.”
Connecting all these threads together, Mo Hua finally realized with a jolt…
The living Taotie Famine-Calamity Grand Formation before him, though seemingly beyond the entire scope of his understanding, did not come from nowhere.
Upon deeper analysis, many of its underlying aspects were things he had actually seen before—things he had even personally participated in constructing.
He had simply been too inexperienced at the time to understand them.
Mo Hua let out a soft sigh.
Indeed, a formation master must see more and learn more…
No experience in formation arts is ever wasted.
Every bit of insight into formations is invaluable.
Even if one doesn’t understand at the moment, learning and learning will, one day, allow all the scattered fragments to piece together again.
Even if once understood but later forgotten, it doesn’t matter.
As long as one continues seeking the Dao—continues walking the path of formations—the forgotten insights will return, and blend together into the final Dao.
Mo Hua’s mind grew clear. Looking again at the Famine-Calamity Formation before him, the fear he’d felt—like facing some unknown, monstrous thing—faded.
There was no need to be afraid of any seemingly profound or obscure formation principles.
A formation is a formation—if one calms the mind, puts in the thought, learns, thinks, and practices, eventually one will grasp it.
Of course, this bizarre formation was still far too advanced.
Even with a vague sense of direction, Mo Hua knew that with his current mastery, truly comprehending this Famine-Calamity Formation—constructed purely of Absolute Formations—was nearly impossible in a short time.
He wasn’t even confident he could “blow it up,” as he usually did. He didn’t know where to even begin.
If he really did blow it up… would it destroy the entire Great Wilderness as well? Mo Hua had no idea.
So he could only avoid touching anything.
At the same time, he pushed his Divine-Sense to the limit, forcing himself to memorize every structure, every rune, every trace of corruption in the mediums, every vein-like Taotie rune, and every formation image that unfolded before him.
This was an extremely precious “experience.”
If one day his formation attainments grew deep enough, recalling these details might grant him unexpected insights. After all—this was his Senior Martial Uncle’s handiwork.
To witness a Senior Uncle’s Absolute-Dao formation work from the inside was a rare fortune.
Mo Hua focused completely, walking forward while imprinting every detail—stroke, inkwork, structure, vein-runelike networks, dead-object features, living-creature traits—everything, useful or not, formation-related or not—directly into his Sea of Consciousness.
Immersed in this, he didn’t know how far he had walked or how much he had recorded.
When he finally snapped out of it, he broke into a cold sweat, suddenly realizing—
“What am I doing?”
This was his Senior Martial Uncle’s domain.
He was in his Senior Martial Uncle’s territory… stealing his Senior Uncle’s formations?
This wasn’t Tōngxiān City, nor Nanyue City, nor Lizhou City—this was the Great Wilderness, his Senior Martial Uncle’s home turf.
How could he indulge in formations so deeply that he ignored his surroundings?
Mo Hua forced himself to calm down, looking around with a frown.
Ever since he entered the Famine-Calamity Formation, he hadn’t encountered a single person—not even an evil spirit.
It was as if, besides the living formation itself, everything was empty.
Where was his Senior Martial Uncle?
Even if he wasn’t present, he should’ve left something behind.
Otherwise, how was this Absolute-Dao Grand Formation even constructed?
And… what about Mister Tu?
Where was he?
Back in the Arhatian Blood-Sacrifice Grand Formation, Mister Tu should have died. If he hadn’t… in what form would he exist now?
Mo Hua’s deep gaze turned toward the most bizarre depths of the grand formation.
He hesitated—should he continue deeper?
If he went in… could he still come back?
But at this point, there was no turning back. Hesitating now was meaningless.
Mo Hua also wanted to see what lay at the very center of this Famine-Calamity Grand Formation—what its ultimate formation core truly was.
He also had to find Mister Tu…
After thinking for a moment, Mo Hua stepped forward, heading deeper into the formation. At the same time, he mentally prepared himself.
A fierce battle might await…
Whether his Senior Martial Uncle or Mister Tu—neither were people to trifle with.
He walked onward for an unknown amount of time. The surroundings didn’t change—still those fleshy stone walls and vein-like Taotie runes.
Except now, the flesh walls had become thicker and stickier.
The veins were broader, their pulses stronger.
And the Taotie aura had grown so thick it was like misty liquid.
Walking through it felt like walking into the gaping maw of a deep abyss—every step carried the risk of being devoured in the next instant.
Yet Mo Hua, strangely enough, felt almost “like a fish in water” here. He even faintly felt as though he were walking inside his own “home.” The sensation was bizarre.
After thinking, he realized why… his body was inscribed with the Taotie Twelve-Meridian-Spiritual-Skeleton Formation. The laws of Taotie resonated with each other; thus, this Taotie formation treated him as one of its own—a “young Taotie,” spared from attack or consumption.
Anyone else who entered… well, their fate would be grim.
Mo Hua felt a flicker of gratitude, mixed with an indescribable sense of uncanny coincidence, making him frown slightly.
But he didn’t stop walking.
In the same repeating scenery, he kept going deeper. After roughly half an hour, he finally saw the only unusual existence within the entire formation.
It was a person… with tentacles.
But calling it a person was generous—it looked more like a grotesque demon.
It wasn’t that the monster itself had tentacles. The formation’s rune lines had grown like tentacles, inserting into its limbs and meridians, rooting deep into its body. It looked like…
Mo Hua’s eyes trembled.
Just like when he inscribed the Twelve-Meridian Spiritual-Skeleton Formation—using shackled needles to pierce into his bones and meridians.
He had pierced himself to draw his own life-bound Taotie formation.
This demon, pierced by tentacle-like runes, was being used to… draw the Taotie Famine-Disaster Grand Formation.
And Mo Hua recognized this demonic form.
It was identical to the white demon that blocked his way in the Lone Mountain mine.
“This is the demonized… Mister Tu?!”
He had already suspected it, but actually seeing Mister Tu alive again sent a deep shock through Mo Hua.
“So he really… didn’t die…”
And Mister Tu’s condition was extremely strange.
He was alive—his heart still beat, his blood still flowed through his meridians—but his Sea of Consciousness seemed “locked.” To the naked eye, there might be no visible oddity.
But Mo Hua could clearly sense something horrifying parasitizing Mister Tu’s Sea of Consciousness, using his body as a puppet, as a vessel—constantly deriving, constructing, and perfecting the grand formation…
This scene was all too familiar.
Because Mo Hua had once suffered the same fate.
His Sea of Consciousness had also been parasitized by something terrifying.
That thing was… a Deceptive Dao Demon Seed.
Mo Hua took a long, steadying breath.
At this moment, he fully understood: ever since the Qianxue Prefecture incident, the mastermind behind countless events… was his Senior Martial Uncle.
His Senior Martial Uncle’s shadow had always been present.
In the Shen family mines, in the Lone Mountain underground Divine temple, there were traces of him.
When the Blood-Sacrifice Grand Formation collapsed, Mister Tu and the other four Nascent Soul cultivators died beneath the tribulation lightning—died by his own hand—all of that was also Martial Uncle’s doing.
Mister Tu had been in his clutches all along.
And Mister Tu, with his vast formation knowledge, his faith in the Divine-Lord, his involvement in building evil Dao architectures—had clearly been his Senior Martial Uncle’s chosen target. Someone to “work” for him.
Mister Tu was the ideal choice.
And now, Mister Tu had truly become a puppet of the Deceptive-Dao, working for Senior Martial Uncle.
His mind had been infested with Deceptive thoughts—he was nothing more than his Senior Martial Uncle’s “toy”…
In other words, Mister Tu now was essentially a avatar of the Strange Daoist.
A chill stabbed through Mo Hua’s heart.
This was the first time since leaving the Lizhou city that he faced his Senior Martial Uncle directly.
Back then, as a clueless child, he might not have feared him as much.
But that was only because he understood nothing.
Now—after studying heavenly calculations, researching causality, cultivating Divine-Sense—the more he learned, the more he realized how frightening his Senior Martial Uncle truly was.
How terrifying the words “Strange Daoist” really were.
Mo Hua instinctively wanted to turn and flee, afraid of attracting his Senior Martial Uncle’s attention—but as he lifted his foot, he hesitated.
He glanced again at Mister Tu. After examining him carefully, Mo Hua realized: Mister Tu was in a “sealed” state.
He had no awareness.
And Senior Martial Uncle’s Deceptive thoughts…
Mo Hua scanned the formation and suddenly understood: those thoughts were powering the formation.
Mister Tu was the vessel; the Deceptive thoughts were the controller. Together, they were constructing the Famine-Disaster Grand Formation.
Dangerous, yes—but right now, they were in a relatively “stable” state and hadn’t noticed him.
Otherwise, Mister Tu would have attacked him instantly.
Senior Martial Uncle’s Deceptive thoughts would never let him go.
Meaning—right now, he had a brief, precious window of safety to decide what to do next.
“Should I… kill Mister Tu?”
Mo Hua’s gaze turned icy.
Mister Tu had “died and revived,” gained a new body, and his cultivation seemed to have fallen to Golden Core.
He was currently parasitized—completely unresponsive. Mo Hua could easily inscribe formations onto him, set up a sundial trigger, then leave and detonate it.
Even if Mister Tu didn’t die, he’d be gravely injured.
With the vessel damaged, the entire grand formation’s operation would certainly be affected…
Mo Hua’s habits ran deep—his first instinct was always either blow up the formation, or blow up the person.
But in the end, he restrained himself.
He had no idea what unpredictable consequences might occur if he really blew up Mister Tu.
And since Mister Tu was now his Senior Martial Uncle’s “toy,” killing him might wake up those Deceptive thoughts. Mo Hua didn’t forget his primary goal here:
The Great Wilderness Straw-Dog Fate-Substitution Art.
If Tie Shù-Gu was correct, this Great Wilderness Straw-Dog Fate Art—capable of transferring karmic fate—very likely was in Mister Tu’s possession right now. Mo Hua looked at him, but the demonized Mister Tu had nothing suspicious on his body aside from flesh and blood.
“Where… could it be?”
Mo Hua frowned and released his Divine-Sense, searching the surroundings.
But all around were only the blood-stone formation mediums and vein-like formation lines of the Famine-Calamity Array. There wasn’t anywhere suitable for storing a treasure.
“Did I… guess wrong?” Mo Hua’s eyes darkened. “The Great Wilderness Straw-Dog Life Technique isn’t with Mister Tu. And… now that he’s already his Senior Uncle’s puppet, what would he even need it for?”
The karmic threads here were truly tangled.
Mo Hua couldn’t figure it out for the moment, but still unwilling to give up, he began searching inch by inch.
Suddenly, his gaze trembled—he spotted a crack in the ground. Within the crack, faint blood-light pulsed, and something seemed to be inside.
Mo Hua stepped to the fissure and leaned down, placing an eye against the crack, peering in.
The instant he saw it, every hair on his body stood on end. Even his divinity felt a bone-deep fear.
Inside the crack… was an enormous eye.
That eye was colossal, blood-soaked, its pupil brimming with brutality. Dense Taotie markings spread across it like blood-veins, etched deep into the eyeball.
Meeting its gaze, Mo Hua felt as if his very soul was being devoured.
At the same time, the Taotie Twelve-Meridian-Spiritual-Skeleton Formation within him erupted into a violently dazzling blue light—yet within that blue, streaks of blood seeped out.
His Twelve Taotie Meridians… were being assimilated by something.