Chapter 1289: “An Old Acquaintance”

Chapter 1288: “An Old Acquaintance”

That ancient, terrifying eye was immeasurably vast.

The blood-red veins within it were all shaped like Taotie patterns, and when all those patterns converged, they formed something like an ancient law—flowing like an ocean, merging into a boundless source of Taotie.

Mo Hua met the gaze of that eye for only a single breath, yet his entire mind was seized.

His Soul was being drawn out of his Sea of Consciousness, flowing toward that eye.

At the same time, the Taotie patterns within his body began to writhe, as if responding to some existence calling them home. The originally blue Taotie lines started to flush with blood, as though using Mo Hua’s bones as nourishment to hatch new life.

Mo Hua felt himself being assimilated.

It was unfamiliar, unspeakably horrifying—even so, deep within, there was an instinctive sense of “returning to one’s origin.”

Even his physical body was being drawn toward the rift, sinking bit by bit.

Falling into the boundless abyss.

Falling into that ancient eye.

Falling into the source of the Taotie’s laws.

A hoarse, twisted, chaotic voice—like the mingled cries of countless humans, beasts, demons, and nameless creatures—echoed beside Mo Hua’s ears, sinking into his mind.

The sound was bizarre.

It seemed to be the voice of an ancient Taotie.

Mo Hua was human; he shouldn’t have understood it. Yet in this moment, he seemed able to discern its meaning from that primordial muttering. The voice murmured:

“My… child…”

“Come back, my child…”

The instant he understood that sentence, the assimilation deepened.

Mo Hua’s consciousness began to blur. His instincts started yielding, as though submitting to some motherly law—his very bones wanting to merge into that origin.

And Mo Hua’s divinity did not resist.

For gods were born of the Dao; divinity craved law.

To merge deeply with a law was something godhood inherently desired.

Mo Hua’s gaze dimmed. Within the black-white-gold, tri-color of his pupils, a layer of chaotic ferocity surfaced.

His body stepped toward the rift, falling further down.

The Taotie law was pulling the Taotie formation lines within him, assimilating him bit by bit…

He was on the verge of falling completely into the rift.

Suddenly, an ancient aura stirred within him. A flash of green light burst out—a silver arc of Yin-Wood vitality—and began resisting the Taotie law. But Yin-Wood vitality was no match; it was erased instantly.

Yet its erasure triggered another formation within Mo Hua’s Life-Bound formation.

Yin and Yang cycle. Life begets death.

When life is extinguished, it becomes death.

A surge of black death-energy seeped from Mo Hua’s bones and instantly wiped out a portion of Taotie power.

The massive Taotie eye trembled, revealing a trace of dread and repulsion.

Its assimilation of Mo Hua paused for a moment.

That fleeting pause gave Mo Hua a sliver of clarity. His expression sharpened—realizing the danger.

He must not be assimilated.

He must not fall into that abyss-like eye.

Mo Hua quickly shut his eyes, refusing to look at that blood-soaked Taotie-patterned eye, cutting off its pull.

He even forced himself to sever the lingering image of that eye from his Divine-Sense.

At the same time, he used the spiritual power in his dantian to activate the Taotie Twelve-Meridian Spiritual-Skeleton formation, suppressing the spread of the blood-red transformation.

Mo Hua then exerted all his strength, bracing his hands against the edge of the rift, and hauled the majority of his body—already halfway inside—back out by sheer force.

Within the rift, the Taotie eye trembled in rage.

The abyssal blood-sea roared.

The dense Taotie law nearly solidified, taking on a glass-like, blood-colored beast-pattern. It expanded wildly through the void, causing the entire Famine-Calamity Grand Formation to tremble—its formation lines pulsing like engorged veins.

On the surface, the miasma of famine rippled violently, rising and falling like mountains.

The range of the famine calamity fluctuated wildly with the formation’s turbulence.

Tribes locked in battle felt the earth tremble and sensed calamity approaching from the Taotie’s power—they paled, confused and terrified. Mo Hua, too, sensed the formation’s instability.

But he had no time to worry. He had to escape the rift and the gaze of that Taotie law.

Fortunately, the rift seemed bound by a seal.

The Taotie law inside could only gestate within—it could not seep to the surface.

Mo Hua used his “Meditation Method” to steady his mind, holding fast to his true self. Then, using “Heavenly Demon Severing Emotions,” he cut away the lingering ties of law.

Only then—barely—did he manage to withdraw his body from the rift’s pull.

“My… child…”

The chaotic whisper faded.

Mo Hua closed his eyes, severed the last trace of fear, and completely escaped the rift.

But when he turned and opened his eyes again… he saw another pair of eyes.

Human eyes.

But on the face of a demon.

Those eyes were full of shock, conflict, horror, disbelief—layered together.

They stared at Mo Hua as if seeing a ghost.

Mo Hua’s expression stiffened.

Because their owner… was Mister Tu.

While Mo Hua had been peering into the rift, he disturbed the Taotie eye within, causing the entire array to tremble—and that tremor awakened Mister Tu.

In other words… he awakened his Martial Uncle’s Strange Daoist incarnation.

Mo Hua’s hair stood on end.

Formation collapse, Divine-Sense Sword Manifestation, Flowing-Water Step, Water Shadow Phantom Body, all the techniques he had ever learned flashed through his mind in an instant.

Golden light gathered instinctively in his eyes.

A killing sword-intent condensed within his pupils.

But then Mo Hua froze.

Looking again at Mister Tu’s eyes, he immediately noticed—

Emotion.

Human emotion.

Not something a Deceptive Dao puppet could possess.

Mo Hua’s brows tightened.

Across from him, the demonized Mister Tu still stared with a shock beyond words.

Though Mo Hua had become the Great Wilderness’s Divine-Shaman, divinity suspended above, authority in hand—his temperament vastly changed—that face was unforgettable to Mister Tu.

Even if he descended into hell, suffered the Eighteen Infernal Torments, was skinned, flayed, burned to ash—he would never forget.

Without this brat, the blood-sacrifice grand formation wouldn’t have collapsed.

The Divine-Lord’s descent wouldn’t have failed.

His thousand-year plan wouldn’t have been destroyed.

Which was exactly why Mister Tu now stood aghast.

This was the Great Wilderness, thousands of miles away, the heart of the Savage Lands, the core of the Taotie Grand Formation, the center of that unmentionable, terrifying Daoist’s grand game.

“You… how are you… here…?”

Mister Tu’s voice was hoarse, as though his throat had been torn.

He couldn’t fathom why, upon opening his eyes, the first living person he saw… was Mo Hua.

Mo Hua studied him, frowning, and asked:

“…You weren’t planted with Demonic-Seed?”

Planted with Demonic-Seed?!

He said—Planted with Demonic-Seed?!?

Mister Tu’s pupils contracted. In the next instant, countless clues connected.

This boy… was connected to that terrifying Daoist?

And not just casually—he even understood the Daoist’s demon-seeding methods.

No… even more…

Mister Tu suddenly remembered the Arhatian Blood-Sacrifice Grand Formation, the Hall of Ten Thousand Demons filled with corpses, the Golden Core demonic cultivators driven mad, slaughtering one another, dying to the last…

He had always assumed they perished due to “Dao-Heart Demon-Seeding.”

Such cruelty—such insanity—only that Daoist could commit.

But thinking carefully… the timing was off.

Seeing Mo Hua now, hearing the words “You weren’t Planted with Demon-Seeds?”—

Mister Tu suddenly realized:

It was Mo Hua.

Back then, in the Hall of Ten Thousand Demons… Mo Hua was the one who made the move!

He was the one who used Dao-Heart seeding Demons, secretly igniting the massacre that wiped out every Golden Core demonic cultivator in that hall!

This was Strange Daoist’s inheritance.

This boy was a “Little Strange Daoist.”

A little Strange Daoist stood before him.

Mister Tu’s courage shattered. His legs went weak—he staggered back two steps.

Mo Hua frowned, utterly confused why Mister Tu was suddenly terrified—he hadn’t even done anything!

He asked: “Are you… conscious right now?”

Being questioned by a “Little Strange Daoist,” Mister Tu turned pale.

But looking into Mo Hua’s clear eyes, he felt something off. Not right…

This youth was alive, with bright, clear eyes. Different from that Daoist—completely different aura.

Besides, that Daoist had no “disciple.”

That Daoist had no living people around him at all.

Mister Tu recalled—Mo Hua was from the Great Void Sect, a righteous sect, with a mighty ancestor. And within him resided a “Ferocious God.”

Therefore, he could not possibly be… that Daoist’s puppet.

But that only made everything more absurd.

He was alive.

He could perform “Dao-heart seeding-demons,” knew its methods, which meant he had dealt with that Daoist—and survived.

He was even… someone capable of entering the core of the ancient Arhatian Taotie Six-Path Reincarnation Formation’s core alive, without being devoured by the Taotie, without his flesh rotting, without his divine-sense being consumed to death.

Mister Tu’s heart shook violently—And within his deathly gaze, a faint, fragile thread of hope appeared.

He shed his monstrous form, revealing his scarred, slave-like body, and his original thin, pale face.

His gaze at Mo Hua was complicated as he hoarsely said:

“You… need to leave…”

Mo Hua frowned: “I came here for a reason…”

Mister Tu shook his head. “It’s too late. You coming here is already a miracle… any delay…”

As he spoke, he suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood.

The blood was black, with wriggling black flesh nodules inside.

Despair and pain twisted Mister Tu’s features; his voice became hoarse and urgent:

“Quick… leave…”

“I… it… is waking…”

His features began to distort, turning deathly pale. Black lines, like veins, appeared across his face. Among these lines lurked a terrifying Deceptive Dao aura.

Stronger than any Deceptive Dao aura Mo Hua had encountered before.

Almost… approaching the origin of Strange Daoist himself.

This was… the true power of Martial Uncle.

Mo Hua drew a deep, cool breath.

His mind knew clearly: he had to leave now, or if Martial Uncle “descended,” he might never escape. Yet his heart was tangled with countless questions, mysteries unsolved.

This inner conflict lasted only a few moments before Mo Hua gritted his teeth and made a decision.

When the decisive moment passes, chaos follows.

Just as Mo Hua turned to leave, Mister Tu suddenly called out:

“Daoist friend…”

Mo Hua paused.

Mister Tu’s half-demon, half-human face showed an intensely complex struggle, mingled with worldly despair and melancholy. Then, with his long demonic claws, he reached into his own chest, pulling something bloodied from his heart, and handed it to Mo Hua.

Mo Hua’s expression grew solemn. Upon seeing it, his pupils contracted.

Mister Tu had handed him a small dog.

A crude, primitive little dog made of green straw, stained with blood and flesh, hidden in Mister Tu’s heart. Mister Tu’s hoarse voice said: “This… can’t save me… keep it…”

“I can’t let it discover… I still… I…”

Suddenly, Mister Tu’s state changed; his pupils turned black.

Mo Hua’s heart chilled. He quickly stuffed the bloody straw dog into his storage bag, then activated Flowing-Water Step and turned to flee.

All around were black-red vein-like formation markings, with rotting blood-and-flesh stone walls, all seemingly identical.

But as a formation master, Mo Hua’s eyes discerned subtle differences; these seemingly identical things were entirely distinct to him.

Using the Taotie formation markings as guides, he quickly escaped along the path he came.

A deep blue water light trail stretched behind him, long unseen.

Inside the formation, Mister Tu struggled with all his might.

Fighting for his own “reason,” for his existence, and perhaps to buy Mo Hua more time. But no matter how much he struggled, the black veins spread relentlessly.

Mister Tu’s gaze dimmed gradually.

His strength of struggle weakened.

Finally, his face became utterly cold and terrifying, his remaining reason extinguished.

A strange aura suddenly erupted, twisting the surrounding space.

Within Mister Tu, that trace of Deceptive thought finally “awoke.”

His eyes turned completely black.