Chapter 275: Visualization

Mo Hua was startled and instantly flattened himself against the roof beam, completely still.

At the same moment, a sweep of Divine-Sense brushed past him — it probed roughly, yet failed to pierce through his concealment.

The burly man withdrew his Divine-Sense, having found nothing, and roared in fury, “Who’s there? Sneaking around like a ghost!”

The middle-aged cultivator beside him frowned and likewise released his own Divine-Sense, scanning the surroundings.

This second Divine-Sense was far stronger, sweeping through the roof beam and locking directly onto Mo Hua’s position. It pierced through the concealment of his Concealment Formation—

—but beneath that layer was yet another: the Concealment Technique.

It was nighttime, and the rafters were shrouded in shadow. Even a crude Concealment Technique was enough to keep him unseen.

The middle-aged cultivator managed to see through one layer of concealment but still failed to detect Mo Hua. After a slight pause, he withdrew his Divine-Sense and said coolly,

“No one’s here. Don’t jump at shadows.”

The burly man scowled. “Impossible! Someone’s watching me!”

The middle-aged cultivator shot him a sideways glance. “Nonsense — aren’t I looking at you?”

The burly man didn’t answer, his eyes still bloodshot and filled with hostility. “No, someone is spying on us!”

Mo Hua’s heart tightened.

The middle-aged cultivator’s tone chilled. “You mean someone sneaked in?”

“It’s not impossible,” the burly man muttered.

A mocking smile tugged at the corner of the other’s lips. “Do you even know where we are?”

Before the burly man could reply, the cultivator sneered,

“This is the depths of Great Black Mountain — our own den of demonic cultivators!”

“The entrance is warded by my Concealment Formation, the walls reinforced by my Compound Formation. Every hut, every brick, every tile has a formation inscribed by my hand.”

“Tell me, what ordinary cultivator could even find this mountain stronghold? Who would dare come here? And who could possibly sneak in — let alone spy on us right under my nose?”

Mo Hua felt a jolt of surprise.

So this middle-aged cultivator was the formation master — and a Foundation Establishment cultivator at that!

Despite those words, the burly man still looked unconvinced, relying on his own instincts.

“Someone is watching us!” he insisted.

The middle-aged formation master’s eyes went cold. “Are you saying my formations are flawed? Or that my Divine-Sense is inferior to yours?”

That shut the burly man up.

In rank, he was a level below this man; in formations, he was utterly ignorant; in Divine-Sense, he was far inferior.

If the formation master said there was no one — then there was no one.

The bloodshot redness in the burly man’s eyes slowly faded. His rage ebbed. He cupped his hands and said,

“Third Brother, don’t be angry. I was rash.”

The formation master’s expression softened slightly. He nodded, letting it go, and then asked,

“You didn’t drink blood tonight, did you?”

The burly man nodded. “No. Just some wine. It made me restless.”

As he spoke, the blood veins in his eyes began to surface again.

Bloodlust. Restlessness. Paranoia. All symptoms of craving.

The formation master understood immediately, his gaze darkening.

“Find time to drink some blood,” he advised coldly. “Don’t let your agitation ruin greater plans.”

The burly man nodded, the dryness in his throat intensifying. The wine only made his hunger worse. He felt uneasy — haunted by the sense of being watched.

It was maddening.

The redness in his eyes deepened. Standing, he clasped his fists. “I’ll take my leave.”

The formation master asked, “Human blood won’t suffice, will it? Want some beast blood instead? Need me to help?”

“No need,” the burly man said hoarsely. “Third Brother is busy — I won’t trouble you.”

He left. The formation master lingered a while longer, finished his wine, and disappeared into the depths of the stronghold.

Mo Hua waited another hour to make absolutely sure both had truly gone — not pretending to lure him out — before finally letting out a silent sigh of relief.

“Elder Yu was right,” he thought. “With two layers of concealment, as long as I don’t move, even a Foundation Establishment cultivator might not detect me.”

Even that middle-aged formation master — and a skilled one at that — had failed to notice him.

It proved just how well-hidden Mo Hua truly was.

Still, he dared not grow arrogant.

Eavesdropping under the very noses of Foundation Establishment demonic cultivators was suicide-level risky. Even if they couldn’t detect him, it was best not to test fate twice.

If his Concealment Technique were ever pierced, not even his Flowing-Water Step could guarantee escape.

Better to avoid this back stronghold in the future — especially those two.

Over the next two days, Mo Hua quietly studied their habits.

The burly man trained in the rear compound during the day but always left alone at night — never saying where.

Mo Hua guessed he went out to drink blood.

The man cultivated a bloodthirsty demonic art; at Foundation Establishment, human blood was no longer enough. He probably fed on the blood of demonic beasts.

Some of those beasts ate humans themselves, so drinking their blood was, in essence, the same.

As for the middle-aged formation master — he was clearly a demonic formation master, always shut away in the rear stronghold tinkering with unknown arrays.

Mo Hua couldn’t guess what he was doing, nor did he dare look.

Occasionally the formation master went out at night as well — likely to set up formations deep within the mountains.

But that was only conjecture. Following him would be courting death.

Gradually, Mo Hua mapped out their schedules.

As long as he avoided crossing paths with the Foundation Establishment cultivators, he had little to fear in Black Mountain Stronghold.

If even those two couldn’t detect him, the lesser Qi-Refining demonic cultivators certainly couldn’t.

Besides, that formation master himself had claimed — no one could possibly infiltrate Black Mountain Stronghold and spy under their very noses.

That delusion would work perfectly in Mo Hua’s favor.

He decided to stay for a few more days — to draw a full map of the stronghold and gather intelligence.

Know yourself and your enemy, and you’ll never lose a hundred battles.

Black Mountain Stronghold was powerful; without knowledge, it was impossible to confront them.

But he must remain cautious — never encountering the Foundation Establishment demonic cultivators if he could help it.

The formation master’s Divine-Sense was sharp, the burly man’s instincts keener still. Both were perilous.

Then another question struck him:

Just how many Foundation Establishment cultivators were there in this stronghold?

Mo Hua began eavesdropping everywhere, determined to find out.

Finally, one night, while two demonic cultivators were on gate duty, drinking and chatting, he got his answer.

One was burly, with a savage scar down his face.

The other was pale and gaunt, noodle-thin.

Mo Hua didn’t know their names, so he dubbed them Scarface and Pale-Face.

So-called “gate duty,” he learned, meant guarding the mountain gate at midnight —

If a criminal cultivator threw in a severed head to “ask the way,” they would open the gate to receive him.

If someone tried to flee, or danger arose, they would give the alarm.

It was dull work.

The cold mountain wind bit through the night as they huddled by a fire, chewing hard jerky, sipping poor wine, and chatting idly.

Mo Hua crouched silently on the roof behind them, listening intently.

Pale-Face muttered, “The stronghold’s under curfew, yet that Fourth Boss still goes out every night.”

Mo Hua’s eyes flickered.

Fourth Boss?

That must be the bloodthirsty burly man.

Then realization hit him like lightning.

The “Bosses” must be the leaders of Black Mountain Stronghold.

If that burly man ranked fourth — and was already a Foundation Establishment cultivator — that meant there were at least four Foundation Establishment demonic cultivators here!

Cold sweat beaded Mo Hua’s forehead.

Four Foundation Establishment demonic cultivators, backed by hundreds of murderous followers—

Even if Tōngxiān City’s Demon Hunters and the Dao Court Division joined forces, they’d be no match.

The Dao Court’s chief supervisor was old and frail, unfit for battle; Elder Yu was formidable but still not enough to take on four Foundation Establishment demonic cultivators at once.

If they fell, the rest would be slaughtered.

Mo Hua’s back went cold, but he forced himself to listen on.

Scarface snorted. “If you were one of the bosses, you wouldn’t have to follow rules either.”

Pale-Face gave a bitter grin, clearly displeased.

After a pause, he said, “What about the Third Boss? Always holed up in the back compound — what’s he doing all day?”

“He’s a formation master. What else would he do?”

“Formations are so dull. What’s there to practice every day? Doesn’t he get bored?”

“That’s why he’s the Third Boss and you’re stuck guarding a gate,” Scarface retorted coldly.

Pale-Face sneered. “You’re guarding the same gate as me.”

Scarface’s expression darkened. “You looking for death?”

Pale-Face shut his mouth, the tension thick in the air.

After a while, tempers cooled. Pale-Face chuckled lewdly. “You think the Third Boss might be hiding a woman back there? Having fun every night?”

Scarface gave him a frigid look. “Nonsense.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen him.”

“You’ve been to the back compound?”

“I delivered a few things for him.”

“What did you see?”

Scarface frowned, thinking. “The Third Boss — when he’s in the back — he’s either drawing formations… or staring at a picture.”

Mo Hua’s heart skipped a beat.

A picture?

What kind of picture?

The Third Boss was a formation master; if he spent his nights drawing arrays, could that picture be some rare formation diagram?

“Not impossible…” Mo Hua murmured.

Then suddenly, his eyes widened — a thought flashing across his mind like lightning.

“Could it be… a Visualization Diagram?!”

(End of Chapter)