Chapter 274: Within the Stronghold

Mo Hua quietly dug a hole at the base of the wall and slipped into Black Mountain Stronghold without a sound.

The moment he entered, a putrid stench of blood assaulted his senses—a nauseating mix of old rot and fresh gore.

The air itself seemed to carry a chill that sank straight into the bones.

Mo Hua couldn’t help but shiver. When he looked around, his eyes widened in shock.

What a massive stronghold!

Mountains enclosed both sides, and the Black Mountain Stronghold sprawled between them.

The wall Mo Hua had tunneled through was only a small section of the massive fortifications.

Everywhere his Divine-Sense swept, more towering walls loomed in the darkness.

Beyond the walls, the surrounding mountains themselves formed natural defenses.

Under the shroud of night, the entire Black Mountain Stronghold loomed like an impregnable fortress—or perhaps, more fittingly, like a monstrous, man-eating beast crouched amid the peaks.

Mo Hua’s heart pounded with awe—and fear.

This was likely the largest Criminal Cultivator force in all of Tōngxiān City… no, perhaps in the entire Black Mountain Prefecture.

Had he called people here recklessly without scouting ahead, the resulting battle would’ve been a massacre.

Steeling himself, Mo Hua began to carefully examine the stronghold’s layout.

It was enormous—densely packed with hundreds of buildings scattered through the mountain basin.

The entire atmosphere was eerie and malevolent.

Under the dim glow of torches, bloodstains mottled the streets, walls, and pillars.

In some corners lay severed limbs and decaying remains of nameless cultivators.

Some houses were occupied by Evil Cultivators themselves, others served as prisons—holding cages for captured cultivators.

Those poor souls were skeletal and emaciated, their bodies little more than skin draped over bone—not quite human anymore.

Mo Hua frowned deeply.

“What are they keeping cultivators for? Normally they just kill them, don’t they?”

Even a murderer like the Bald Monk had been ruthless enough to slaughter without hesitation—yet these people… these people were worse.

He watched a little longer.

Soon, a vicious-looking Evil Cultivator came by, picked through the cages, and chose a prisoner who looked slightly healthier.

He slit the man’s wrist, collected the flowing blood in a bowl—until it was full—and then drank it all in one gulp.

His qi and blood surged visibly.

He even licked his lips afterward, unsatisfied.

Moments later, another one arrived.

This one pressed his palm on a young cultivator’s forehead—and the youth’s scream was so shrill it barely sounded human.

Through his Divine-Sense, Mo Hua saw what was happening: the youth’s spiritual power was being forcibly reversed—draining from his dantian, coursing through his meridians, and then sucked into the Evil Cultivator’s palm.

The agony was unbearable.

Irritated by the screaming, the Evil Cultivator choked the youth’s throat with his free hand—until, at last, the screaming stopped, and the youth collapsed limply to the ground—alive or dead, it was impossible to tell.

More Evil Cultivators came and went, doing much the same—draining blood, stealing spiritual power—and some used even crueler methods Mo Hua dared not imagine.

A chill crept through Mo Hua’s entire body.

This wasn’t merely a den of Criminal Cultivators.

It was the nest of Evil Cultivators—hundreds of them!

Mo Hua drew in a sharp breath.

Criminal Cultivators killed for wealth.

Evil Cultivators killed for power—they didn’t even see others as human beings.

Those captives weren’t prisoners.

They were livestock.

Mo Hua trembled with fury and sorrow, but at last sighed helplessly.

He couldn’t save them.

Forget saving others—he’d be lucky to save himself.

If the Black Mountain Stronghold was truly the Evil Cultivators’ base, it was far more dangerous than he had anticipated.

“Should I… retreat while they haven’t noticed me yet?”

He thought for a moment, then shook his head.

He had gotten in this far by sheer luck; next time might not be so fortunate.

Besides, so long as these Evil Cultivators were still only Qi-Refining level, none of them could pierce through his concealment.

As long as his Concealment Technique held, he was safe.

Their methods might be cruel and bizarre—but if he never engaged them directly, they couldn’t harm him.

Mo Hua exhaled softly, regaining his composure.

The Black Mountain Stronghold’s Evil Cultivator faction was already powerful enough to threaten not just the Monster Hunters, but even the stability of all Tōngxiān City.

If left unchecked for another few centuries, their numbers could swell into the thousands—and by then, every rogue cultivator in the region would be little more than cattle in their pens.

A shudder ran through Mo Hua.

He had to uncover their secrets now, while they still didn’t know he could conceal himself—so that, later, he could bring reinforcements and wipe them out completely.

His mind sharpened.

“First, I need to know if there are any Foundation Establishment Evil Cultivators here.”

Only Foundation Establishment cultivators could possibly detect him.

Meaning:

if none were present, he was relatively safe—even here in the Evil Cultivators’ nest.

But where would they be?

Mo Hua pondered, then began to analyze the stronghold’s formation structure.

He had seen through the An family’s formation before, and he had personally designed the formation arrays for the southern Refining Workshop and Alchemy Hall in Tōngxiān City.

Formations were his specialty.

After some deduction, Mo Hua had a rough idea.

The Black Mountain Stronghold was divided into a front section and a rear section.

The front was filled with Qi-Refining Evil Cultivators—mostly around the eighth or ninth layer—but none had reached Foundation Establishment.

Their formations were simple—mostly first-grade single arrays, many even less than that.

The kitchens, prisons, and dwellings were all in the front.

The rear section, however, was different.

There, the arrays grew complex—mostly first-grade dual-element Earth-Wood formations—and the structures were separated by an additional inner wall.

Clearly, that was where the true core of the stronghold lay.

Mo Hua discreetly unraveled a small segment of the formation and slipped inside.

With his Concealment Technique and Flowing-Water Step, he glided across rooftops and beams, observing carefully.

The rear compound was quieter, more solemn—less of the stench of blood, but heavier with oppressive aura.

The buildings were larger and more ornate—though even that elegance carried a sinister undertone.

As he crept along, Mo Hua suddenly heard voices.

He immediately pressed himself flat along a roof beam.

Two people were conversing below—their tone cool and distant, as though they knew each other but not well.

Peering down carefully, Mo Hua saw a table laden with wine and meat.

Judging by their fare, these two were no ordinary underlings—their food was far superior to what the outer Evil Cultivators had.

They hadn’t noticed him, so Mo Hua assumed they were Qi-Refining cultivators, and tilted his head for a clearer look.

One was a stern-looking middle-aged man.

The other, a broad-shouldered brute with bloodshot eyes.

The instant Mo Hua’s gaze brushed across the brute’s face, the man’s eyes snapped wide open—the red in them deepening, murderous aura flaring.

“Who’s there?” he roared.