Chapter 1300: True-Person Huá

Chapter 1299: True-Person Huá

After staying in the prison for some time—and after being fed quite a few pills by the Huá Clan—Mo Hua’s body gradually began to recover.

The aftereffects of his failed Golden Core breakthrough were slowly being repaired.

His Sea of Consciousness, which had always been exceptionally resilient, was also continuously restoring itself.

This should have been a good thing.

Yet the unease in Mo Hua’s heart only grew stronger. He always had the feeling that he was a pig—one being slowly fattened and raised strong.

So he deliberately began to slow down the recovery of his injuries.

Even the operation of the Yin-Wood Rejuvenation Formation—he stopped it altogether.

People fear fame; pigs fear getting fat.

Once a pig grows fat, it gets slaughtered for meat.

Therefore, to avoid being killed, one must learn how to “lose weight.”

Mo Hua was extremely cautious, suppressing the recovery within his body.

But no matter how much he suppressed it, injuries would eventually heal.

On this day, that Huá Clan True Person came again and asked as usual:

“What’s your name?”

“Forgot.”

“What’s your background?”

“Don’t remember.”

“Why were you in the Great Wilderness? Why did you become a Divine-Shaman?”

“No idea.”

Being brushed off like this—and brushed off once every single day—even this Nine-Petaled-robed True Person was starting to feel irritated. He said to Mo Hua:

“Come out. Follow me to a place.”

This seemingly ordinary sentence made Mo Hua’s heart tighten.

He could sense it—this Huá Clan True Person definitely had no good intentions.

This man wanted to harm him.

Mo Hua didn’t want to go.

The Huá Clan True Person turned to look at him, his expression growing indifferent, and said: “Move.”

Mo Hua said: “I’m not feeling very well.”

The Huá Clan True Person said nothing, but his gaze grew colder and colder—clearly showing he had no intention of indulging Mo Hua.

Mo Hua cursed inwardly, but still had no choice but to obediently stand up. As a “prisoner,” with golden needles sealing his head and shackles on his hands and feet, he followed behind the Huá Clan True Person.

He didn’t know this True-Person Huá’s name, title, or what position he held within the Huá Clan.

For an ordinary cultivator to reach the Feathered Ascension realm was already extraordinarily rare.

Ascending through Feathered Ascension, flying through the skies, crossing the void— in the eyes of most low-level cultivators, that was truly no different from an “immortal.”

Thus, Feathered Ascension cultivators were respectfully addressed as “True Persons,” and most of them also had their own honorific titles.

These titles varied from person to person. Some chose elegant names to display refinement.

Some followed their master’s generational naming sequence.

Some took their lifelong obsession with the Dao as their True Person title.

And of course, some simply used their surname as their True Person title.

In such cases, either they were low-key by nature and disliked showing off, or they took pride in their family name.

Or they were True Persons born into great clans, who did not regard Feathered Ascension as the ultimate pursuit of their lives—and thus couldn’t be bothered to take another formal title.

This Huá-robed True Person who had captured him was known to everyone simply as “True-Person Huá.”

Yet Mo Hua vaguely felt that this person should have his own title—it just wasn’t publicly declared.

Using the title “True-Person Huá” was, on one hand, because he was a Feathered Ascension cultivator of the Huá Clan, acting on the Huá Clan’s behalf in the Great Wilderness.

On the other hand, by not revealing his true title, he was likely avoiding exposing Heavenly secrets—preventing enemies from locking onto him through karmic threads and plotting against him.

“Later on, I need to find a way to dig out this True-Person Huá’s real title…” Mo Hua silently thought.

But at the moment, his cultivation was far too low. He could only endure it, pretending nothing was happening.

True-Person Huá took Mo Hua out of the prison, walked through a long, dark alley, and entered a secret chamber sealed by layers of formations.

Inside the chamber, everything was soaked in blood. White bones were piled all over the ground.

A group of cultivators wrapped head to toe in white bandages—faces indistinguishable, only their eyes exposed—held sharp, slender blades, continuously cutting into various corpses, as if conducting “dissection” research.

Mo Hua turned and ran.

True-Person Huá pointed a finger, freezing him in place, then dragged him back.

Mo Hua couldn’t resist at all.

Upon entering the blood-stained chamber, the busy “bandaged men” all stopped what they were doing and turned to salute:

“True Person.”

True-Person Huá nodded.

The bandaged men then lowered their heads again and continued their dissections amid the soft, scraping sounds of flesh being cut.

At this moment, a bandaged man who was clearly the highest in cultivation and seniority—his face likewise obscured—walked over.

True-Person Huá said: “Dissect him and take a look.”

He didn’t say what to dissect, nor what “dissect” meant.

But Mo Hua’s face instantly turned pale.

The bandaged man nodded and led True-Person Huá into an even more concealed inner chamber.

Inside the chamber, the assortment of instruments was even more extensive.

“I need to examine him first,” the bandaged man said.

True-Person Huá nodded.

The bandaged man stepped in front of Mo Hua. His bandage-wrapped hands—cold and lifeless like a corpse’s—felt along Mo Hua’s limbs, joints, and various acupoints for quite some time.

Mo Hua wanted to resist, but being immobilized by a Feathered Ascension cultivator, he couldn’t move at all.

Just as his nerves were stretched to the limit, the bandaged man shook his head.

“No good.”

True-Person Huá frowned. “His injuries are basically healed.”

The bandaged man replied: “The injuries are mostly healed, yes. But the problem is—he’s congenitally weak. His foundation is too hollow.”

“True Person…” the bandaged man looked at True-Person Huá. “How many times do you want to dissect him?”

True-Person Huá said: “Naturally, the more the better. Dissect him until every detail is laid bare.”

Every hair on Mo Hua’s body stood on end.

But the bandaged man shook his head. “That won’t do. He’s congenitally weak—strong divine-sense but deficient blood and vitality. Performing ‘live dissections’—two or three times might be fine. But if you do it too many times, his body won’t hold up. He’ll die.”

True-Person Huá’s brows knit tightly together.

Mo Hua, on the other hand, let out a long sigh of relief.

Congenitally weak!

In all his life, this was the first time Mo Hua had felt the benefits of being congenitally weak.

Because he was weak—he couldn’t be dissected too many times!

True-Person Huá said, “Then what should be done?”

The bandaged man replied: “Feed him more top-grade, comprehensive tonic pills. Once he’s replenished, then we can come back.”

True-Person Huá hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Very well.”

After speaking, True-Person Huá didn’t waste words. He stood up and left.

The bandaged man cupped his hands in salute. “Safe travels, True-Person.”

True-Person Huá grabbed Mo Hua, retraced the path, and tossed him back into the prison. His gaze flickered slightly as he asked:

“The pills I gave you—did you eat them all?”

Mo Hua originally wanted to say he’d eaten everything, but then he remembered—this was Huá Clan territory. As a prisoner, how could he possibly hide anything from True-Person Huá’s eyes?

Mo Hua answered honestly, “No… I threw some of them away..”

True-Person Huá asked: “Why didn’t you eat them? Don’t you know how important your body is?”

Mo Hua said quietly: “I’m a bit.. unable to handle heavy supplementation.”

True-Person Huá was left speechless.

He took out more pills and handed them to Mo Hua.

Each of these pills was crystal-clear, glowing faintly—top-grade pills for replenishing qi and nourishing blood, solidifying the foundation and cultivating vitality.

“One pill of each, morning and evening,” True-Person Huá said gently. “This is for your own good. Remember to take them.”

Mo Hua took the pills, feeling as though these “tonics” were no different from “death-urging pills”.

But with someone standing over him, he had no choice but to bow his head. Mo Hua forced himself to say, “I’ll take the medicine on time.”

True-Person Huá said, “Take one of each right now.”

After speaking, he simply stood there, silently watching Mo Hua.

Being stared at like this by a Feathered Ascension cultivator, Mo Hua had no choice. In front of True-Person Huá, he swallowed one pill of each.

Only then did True-Person Huá nod in satisfaction, reminded him once more to “take your medicine,” and left.

Back in the prison, after taking the pills, Mo Hua felt his whole body grow hot. A warm current surged from his dantian and flowed throughout his body.

The lingering injuries from his failed Golden Core formation began to heal rapidly, in an irreversible trend.

His blood and qi became exceedingly abundant, even his cheeks flushing red.

These were undoubtedly the Huá Clan’s finest healing tonics—the medicinal effects were simply too powerful.

Outside, each pill would be worth a fortune, impossible to obtain even with gold.

But as Mo Hua swallowed them, bitterness filled his heart.

Because he knew—once he was supplemented too well, he’d be taken away to be “sliced”.

Back at Great Void Sect, Venerable Elder Xun had warned him repeatedly to keep a low profile. If his secret ever leaked and fell into the hands of someone with ulterior motives, he would surely be captured and “sliced up” for research.

Mo Hua hadn’t fully believed it back then.

He never expected that Venerable Elder Xun hadn’t been lying at all—that one day, this fate would truly descend upon him.

Mo Hua frowned deeply, anxiety rising in his heart.

But after worrying for a long time, another question surfaced in his mind:

“The Huá Clan… dissection… bone carving?”

In the Great Wilderness, the Huá Clan had stolen many inheritances, among which bone-carving techniques were the core.

And bone-carving techniques seemed to be related to the dissection of flesh and blood.

Was the Huá Clan really conducting research into “human anatomy”?

Mo Hua recalled that blood-red secret chamber.

Inside it, a group of bandage-wrapped men used sharp, slender blades to carve apart corpse after corpse.

At the time, Mo Hua hadn’t seen clearly what those corpses were made of. But thinking back carefully now, he realized their composition was complex—there seemed to be all kinds of demonic beasts, as well as humanoid corpses.

Demonic beasts were a native specialty of the Great Wilderness.

But what about the humans?

Human corpses… were they a “product” of war?

Mo Hua’s pupils trembled slightly.

Venturing deep into the Great Wilderness, instigating wars, pillaging everywhere—then using Great Wilderness bone-carving arts to dissect them?

Using the demonic beasts and cultivators who died in Great Wilderness wars as dissection materials?

Such behavior was already… bordering on the demonic path, wasn’t it? Was this really something a Great Clan originating from the Dao Province could do?

But what could “dissection” actually be used for? To dig deeply into the secrets of cultivators—just like what they were doing to him?

Or was it that… the Huá Clan had even deeper schemes?

Dissection…

In that moment, Mo Hua felt as though the waters beneath this matter were like an abyss—so deep it was terrifying.

And now, he himself seemed about to drown in that abyss.

To seize the secret of him as a Divine-Shaman, the Huá Clan would definitely dissect him piece by piece, from head to toe—from hair to toes.

Mo Hua had always kept his mouth shut, never revealing the secret of the “Divine-Shaman”.

Whether he truly was a Divine-Shaman, even the Huá Clan couldn’t yet reach a definite conclusion.

But that no longer mattered. The Huá Clan didn’t care at all.

They would rather believe the results of dissection than believe a single word from Mo Hua.

If Mo Hua truly was the Divine-Shaman, then slicing and dissecting him would be justified—he deserved death with a thousand times over.

If he wasn’t, then he must still be connected to the Divine-Shaman.

After dissecting him, they would surely obtain clues about the Divine-Shaman and use them to capture the real one.

Even if, by some chance, Mo Hua were truly “innocent,” it wouldn’t matter.

Better to kill by mistake than let one slip through.

A nobody kid captured from the Great Wilderness—if he died, so be it. Like a blade of wild grass, no one would ever care.

“This is bad..”

A chill spread through Mo Hua’s heart. He truly felt that this time, he was in grave danger.

If this continued, he feared he would really be “cut into thousand pieces (lingchi)” and “dissected”.

But he seemed to have no means of escape.

His cultivation was negligible.

His strongest Divine-Sense, damaged once due to the failure of his Golden Core breakthrough, was still faintly aching even now.

The Huá Clan had also used golden needles of unknown origin to seal his Sea of Consciousness, suppressing the divinity within his Divine-Sense.

For now, Mo Hua didn’t dare to forcibly break through this restriction.

Even if he did break it and could exert his full strength, he no longer had even a single straw dog on him, and he absolutely did not dare to kill anyone.

Most importantly, there was True-Person Huá. This was a Feathered Ascension cultivator—and not an ordinary one, but a Feathered Ascension of a Dao-Province Great Clan.

Mo Hua even suspected that the Huá Clan’s schemes in the Great Wilderness were divided into two major parts.

One was profiteering from war, handled by Elder You.

The other was researching cultivator dissections, overseen by True-Person Huá.

True Person Hua’s status was far higher than Elder You’s, and his schemes and methods went without saying.

Coupled with his Feathered Ascension cultivation, Mo Hua stood absolutely no chance against him.

Mo Hua’s brows knit tighter and tighter.

Yet no matter how anxious he became, the situation did not change in the slightest.

In the days that followed, he continued day after day to eat the so-called “tonics” given by True Person Huá, watching as his qi and blood were nourished until they grew increasingly “plump.”

From time to time, True-Person Huá would have the bandaged man come to pinch Mo Hua’s limbs and joints, check his blood and qi, and see whether they could “use the knife”.

Fortunately, his foundation in body refinement was really weak, his blood and qi truly deficient—it was not something that could be replenished so easily in a short time.

His congenital weakness ended up saving Mo Hua’s life once again.

But there was no doubt—the situation was still deteriorating.

One or two days might not be enough, but ten days or half a month—sooner or later, there would come a day when he was fully “fattened”.

And once he truly became plump, that would be the day of his death.

Amid this long, grinding torment, some unforeseen changes finally occurred.

On this day, True-Person Huá once again came to the prison.

He didn’t perform his usual questioning—whether Mo Hua had remembered his own name, or recalled his origins. He simply said:

“Come with me.”

Mo Hua said slowly, “I haven’t taken today’s medicine yet… my blood hasn’t been replenished… my body’s a bit weak…”

True-Person Huá glanced at Mo Hua and said calmly: “There’s something else today.”

“Something else?” Mo Hua was slightly taken aback.

True-Person Huá nodded, but said no more.

Mo Hua followed behind him, turning left and right, and soon realized that they were indeed not taking the old route—not heading toward that blood-colored secret chamber.

After walking for a while, they actually entered an assembly hall.

The hall was spacious, quiet, and lavish; folding screens painted with landscapes stood like mountains, incense smoke curled gently, exuding the grandeur of a great clan.

At this moment, the hall was filled with cultivators, all wearing embroidered Dao robes, their bearing noble and refined.

Every one of them possessed cultivation at late Golden Core or above.

These were all core power-holding descendants of great aristocratic families.

When Mo Hua, dressed in prison garb and shackled in restraints, walked into the hall, everyone’s gaze converged on him at once.