Chapter 293: Intelligence
A large group returned grandly to Tōngxiān City. Elder Yu dismissed everyone else, leaving only Mo Hua, Mo Shan, Yu Chengyi, Yu Chengwu, and Zhang Lan of the Dao Court Division.
Elder Yu led them to the reception hall of the southern city’s Artifact Refining Workshop. The place was empty, and an isolation formation ensured privacy.
Everyone knew why Elder Yu had gathered them, and their expressions were grave.
After sipping some tea, Elder Yu asked,
“In those deep mountains—there truly were Criminal Cultivators?”
Mo Hua was always careful in his actions. For him to stay in the mountains so long, he must have discovered something.
Given their earlier suspicions about those mountains, Elder Yu now wondered if Mo Hua’s previous report was true—that deep within Black Mountain, there really was a group of Criminal Cultivators, and likely a sizable force at that.
But Mo Hua shook his head.
“Not Criminal Cultivators.”
Elder Yu froze, then exhaled a breath of relief.
Not Criminal Cultivators—good.
“They’re Evil Cultivators,” Mo Hua said.
The heart Elder Yu had just put down rose again.
“Evil Cultivators?” he exclaimed in shock.
Mo Hua nodded.
The others were startled. Zhang Lan’s expression turned solemn as he asked,
“How many?”
“Several hundred.”
“Be specific.”
“About five or six hundred.”
Everyone—including Elder Yu—gasped.
Five or six hundred Evil Cultivators!
Evil Cultivators were not like ordinary ones. They cultivated forbidden, malevolent arts—prohibited by the Dao Court—that advanced swiftly, wielded great destructive power, and often produced eerie, unpredictable effects. They were extremely difficult to deal with.
The Dao Court Division had long hunted Evil Cultivators, but such people almost always acted alone. No one had expected that deep in Black Mountain, there would be an entire horde—five or six hundred strong!
Though Zhang Lan trusted Mo Hua, he still couldn’t help but ask:
“You’re sure you didn’t mistake what you saw?”
“I saw them with my own eyes,” Mo Hua said calmly. “And I counted them personally.”
Zhang Lan blinked.
“You counted them? They just let you stand there and look?”
“I used Concealment Arts. They couldn’t see me.”
Concealment Arts…
Zhang Lan then remembered—Mo Hua had indeed learned that.
Though he knew it, seeing the result was still unbelievable. The boy had spied on five or six hundred Evil Cultivators right under their noses—and escaped unharmed.
Zhang Lan felt he should be shocked, but in truth, he was almost numb by now. Anything outrageous seemed reasonable, as long as it happened to Mo Hua.
“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that…”
Elder Yu asked,
“What else did you find out?”
Mo Hua thought for a moment, then added,
“All the Evil Cultivators live together in a mountain fortress called Black Mountain Stronghold.”
Black Mountain Stronghold.
Just the name alone sounded ominous.
“Do you know its location?” Yu Chengyi asked.
Mo Hua took out a sketch showing two marked paths.
It was a simple topographic map of the mountain, drawn from memory. One line showed the path he took in—a hidden trail between cliffs leading straight to the fortress gates.
The other line showed his way out—starting from the gates, circling the stronghold’s perimeter, and stretching back toward the inner mountains.
It wasn’t precise, but the general directions were correct.
The others stared at the map in mild amazement.
“No wonder you’re a Formation Master,” Zhang Lan muttered. “That memory of yours is absurd. But with all that fog, how did you even know where you were going?”
“Because I’m a Formation Master.”
Zhang Lan blinked.
Mo Hua explained,
“The mountain fog wasn’t natural. It was caused by a Fog Array set up by the third leader of the stronghold. That’s why the paths are hard to discern.”
“But since I’m a Formation Master, his array actually made it easier for me to orient myself.”
Zhang Lan nodded slowly—indeed, if not for Mo Hua, they’d never have known the fog itself was an array. Even knowing that much, none of them could have seen through it. Only a keen mind trained in formations like Mo Hua’s could have pieced that together.
Mo Shan’s expression shifted slightly.
“Third leader?”
Mo Hua nodded.
“The head of the stronghold is a Foundation Establishment Evil Cultivator.”
Mo Shan’s face darkened.
“How many leaders are there in total?”
“Four,” Mo Hua replied.
Everyone exchanged uneasy looks.
Elder Yu asked,
“Do you know anything else about these four?”
Mo Hua nodded again.
“I overheard two Evil Cultivators on night watch talking about them…”
(Of course, those two were long dead by now.)
“The First Leader founded Black Mountain Stronghold. He’s the most powerful and the oldest, but mysterious—no one’s seen him directly.
The Second Leader is bloodthirsty and cruel, currently out killing and not in the stronghold.
The Third Leader is a Formation Master—he draws Evil Arrays.
The Fourth Leader is new. He likes to drink blood. When human blood runs low, he goes out at night to drink demon blood instead.”
As Mo Hua finished his report, Elder Yu’s eyes widened in shock. The intelligence he’d gathered was extraordinarily detailed—identities, cultivation specialties, even their habits.
Without Mo Hua, they never could’ve learned this.
Four Foundation Establishment Evil Cultivators!
Elder Yu’s brows furrowed deeply.
They had expected there to be a powerful leader or two, but four Foundation-level cultivators—all practicing Evil Dao techniques—was far worse than imagined.
The room grew heavy with unease.
Mo Hua frowned slightly.
“Elder Yu, can we win against them?”
Elder Yu shook his head firmly.
“No.”
“Not even a chance?”
“Not with just us.”
“Then what should we do?”
Elder Yu turned to Zhang Lan and clasped his hands.
“We must request aid from the Dao Court itself.”
Mo Hua frowned slightly. The Dao Court Division didn’t have many personnel either… then he realized Elder Yu had said Dao Court, not Dao Court Division.
Could it be—
“Dao Soldiers?” Mo Hua asked in surprise.
Dao Soldiers—the army of cultivators under the Dao Court’s direct command.
When local Dao Court Divisions encountered threats beyond their ability to handle, they could petition the central Dao Court to deploy Dao Soldiers for suppression.
Mo Hua had never seen them but had heard they were overwhelmingly powerful.
Given how strong the Evil Cultivators of Black Mountain Stronghold were, even all the Demon Hunters combined might not prevail. Only Dao Soldiers could.
Zhang Lan nodded gravely.
“I’ll return immediately to report to the Chief Supervisor, have him submit a petition to the Dao Court, and request Dao Soldiers to exterminate the Evil Cultivators.”
Of course, deploying Dao Soldiers wasn’t instantaneous. The Dao Court had to verify the intelligence, assess the threat, and arrange the mobilization.
Time was critical—Zhang Lan stood to leave, but Mo Hua stopped him.
“Wait. I’m not done with the intelligence yet.”
“There’s more?” Zhang Lan stared. “How much did you find out—don’t tell me you’ve mapped out the entire stronghold!”
“Not quite that much…” Mo Hua smiled, taking out another rolled sheet and spreading it on the table.
The paper showed buildings and complex formation structures—an architectural formation diagram of considerable scale. Zhang Lan’s eyes twitched.
This was no ordinary layout map.
“This can’t be—”
“It’s a topographic chart of Black Mountain Stronghold,” Mo Hua confirmed.
“You stole it?”
“I drew it.”
Zhang Lan was stunned.
“You can just draw that?”
Such charts combined architectural layout with formation schematics—normally requiring detailed field surveys and formation expertise.
“I’m a Formation Master,” Mo Hua said matter-of-factly.
Zhang Lan was speechless.
Fine. You’re a Formation Master. You win.
Elder Yu studied the map carefully, inwardly astonished.
It was incredibly detailed—living quarters, holding cells, even the kitchens were all marked.
And all this drawn right under the Evil Cultivators’ noses. Remarkable.
Then Elder Yu frowned and pointed to a section.
“What’s this area?”
The chart divided the fortress into Front and Rear sections.
The front was meticulously drawn, but the rear part was rougher—likely because it was too dangerous for Mo Hua to explore deeply.
Yet within that rough rear section, there was one small area drawn with exceptional detail: pathways, beast pens, blood arrays, a hall’s beams—all precisely noted. In the center of that hall stood a furnace—and even a pig.
“That’s the Evil Cultivators’ pill chamber,” Mo Hua said.
Zhang Lan’s face darkened.
“What kind of pills are they refining?”
Mo Hua shook his head.
“I don’t know. But they were using people to refine pills. The whole room was thick with blood mist, and some of the herbs seemed… alive.”
Elder Yu frowned—he knew little about Evil Cultivator alchemy.
But Zhang Lan’s expression turned grim, his voice cold.
“They’re refining Human Longevity Pills!”
(End of Chapter)