Chapter 300: Demonic Cultivators

Mo Hua took his leave from Mister Zhuang, walking past the bamboo grove, crossing the meadow, and skirting the pond until he arrived beneath the great locust tree.

There, Bai Zisheng and Bai Zixi were reading.

When Bai Zisheng saw Mo Hua, his eyes lit up. Tossing aside his book, he asked eagerly,

“Where have you been? Haven’t seen you around lately!”

Mo Hua opened the food box and divided the beef and pastries his mother had prepared, handing them to Bai Zisheng and Bai Zixi.

“I was delayed by something.”

Bai Zisheng nodded and didn’t pry further, focusing on the beef instead.

His mind was simple—if there was meat, all was well with the world.

Mo Hua thought for a moment, then asked, “Zisheng, when do you plan to build your Foundation?”

Bai Zisheng corrected him, “You should call me Big Brother Bai!”

Mo Hua ignored him.

But since he was eating Mo Hua’s food, Bai Zisheng couldn’t refuse to answer.

“Still some time yet. The foundation must be solid before Foundation Establishment.”

Mo Hua nodded.

It seemed Mister Zhuang had been right—disciples of noble clans or great sects were never ones to rush cultivation. From the Qi-Refining stage onward, they honed their realms carefully to lay a lasting foundation.

Bai Zisheng then asked, “What about you? Planning to build your Foundation soon?”

“Yes. I’m already at the seventh layer of Qi-Refining—time to start preparing.”

Bai Zixi, nibbling daintily on her pastry, looked up at Mo Hua. She suddenly froze, frowning.

“Your Divine-Sense…”

Bai Zisheng, hearing that, examined Mo Hua as well—then jumped in shock.

“Mo Hua, what happened to your Divine-Sense!?”

“Oh, my Divine-Sense reached Foundation Establishment first.”

Mo Hua replied with feigned nonchalance, though a trace of smugness lingered between his brows.

Bai Zisheng gaped. Bai Zixi stared in a daze, pastry forgotten midair.

“Impossible!” Bai Zisheng exclaimed.

“Why not?”

“Qi-Refining cultivators can’t have a Foundation-established Divine-Sense!”

“Oh. Then let’s just say it’s impossible,” Mo Hua said indifferently.

Bai Zisheng circled him, left and right, still disbelieving. “You really established Foundation with your Divine-Sense?”

“Didn’t you just say that’s impossible?”

Bai Zisheng scratched his head. “Doesn’t make sense… I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Mo Hua popped a piece of pastry into his mouth, smiling as he chewed.

“How did your Divine-Sense build its Foundation?” Bai Zisheng couldn’t help but ask again.

“Brother!” Bai Zixi’s clear voice carried a hint of reproach.

Realizing his faux pas, Bai Zisheng apologized,

“My mistake. Every cultivator has their own fortuitous encounters—such things shouldn’t be asked.”

“It’s fine,” Mo Hua waved dismissively. “But I can’t tell you for now. Maybe later.”

The matter of the Visualization Diagram involved his Sea of Consciousness—and the Dao Monument within it. The fewer who knew, the better.

At least for now, Bai Zisheng couldn’t be told.

Seeing Mo Hua’s frankness, Bai Zisheng nodded. “All right.”

Mo Hua smiled slightly.

But his smile made Bai Zisheng flinch in alarm. “Why do you suddenly look so sinister? There’s an evil aura about you!”

Mo Hua blinked, then realized—it must be the remnant malice from the Blue-Faced Little Ghost. Every now and then, that evil intent surfaced, and when he smiled, it resembled that ghost’s eerie grin.

Mo Hua rubbed his cheek. “It’s nothing. My brain’s gone bad. It’ll pass soon.”

Bai Zisheng was thoroughly puzzled but didn’t press further. Instead, curiosity got the better of him.

“So what have you been up to lately?”

Mo Hua thought for a moment. He couldn’t mention the Visualization Diagram, but the matter of Black Mountain Stronghold should be fine—and as scions of the Bai family, perhaps they might even know more about it.

So he recounted the story—selectively.

From the hidden cliffside trail, to the fog forest laced with formations, to the midnight encounter with the fat and thin cultivators, the oath of allegiance, the blood-drenched pill room, and the bone-white alchemy furnace…

Everything he could tell, he told.

Bai Zisheng listened, spellbound and horrified, alternating between outrage and admiration.

One moment he fretted for Mo Hua’s safety, the next he was furious at the atrocities of the demonic cultivators—itching to storm Black Mountain Stronghold and slaughter every last “evil sect dog.”

In Mo Hua’s impression, scions of noble families were usually either disciplined to rigidity or spoiled beyond restraint.

He truly couldn’t fathom where Bai Zisheng’s gallant righteousness came from.

Bai Zixi, too, was engrossed, not even noticing when her book slipped from her hands to the ground.

After a while, Mo Hua asked,

“Do you two know the difference between Evil Cultivators and Demonic Cultivators?”

The Third Master of Black Mountain Stronghold had called him a demonic monster who’d taken possession of another’s body. By that logic, demonic cultivators must be stronger and more terrifying than evil ones.

But Mo Hua had never been clear on the distinction. Even when he asked Elder Yu, the elder’s answers were vague—likely because he’d never encountered them himself.

After all, had Mo Hua not gone to Black Mountain Stronghold, the only evil cultivator he’d ever seen would have been the flower-thieving scoundrel he helped capture with Zhang Lan—whose leg he’d broken.

As for demonic cultivators, the term itself was one he’d barely even heard.

“I know this one!” Bai Zisheng declared proudly, finally able to show off a bit of knowledge before his sister.

“Evil cultivators and demonic cultivators are both wicked sorts who follow heretical paths. Usually people use the terms interchangeably—but strictly speaking, they’re different.”

“Evil cultivators are those who’ve fallen from the righteous path midway and embraced corruption. Demonic cultivators, on the other hand, follow authentic Demonic Dao inheritances, cultivating true demonic arts and doctrines.”

“Because of that, demonic cultivators are more systematic and thus usually stronger. But either way, both are wicked heretics—and the more wicked they are, the more powerful… and the more deserving of death.”

…

Bai Zisheng’s explanation was thorough enough.

Mo Hua suddenly understood, though a flicker of doubt remained. “How do you know all that so clearly?”

Bai Zisheng straightened up. “A good cultivator must slay demons and purge evil! How could one destroy the enemy without first knowing them?”

Mo Hua sighed. “Fair enough.”

So that was his logic.

Then Mo Hua asked, “What about Evil Formations? How are they different from ordinary formations?”

The moment the topic turned to formations, Bai Zisheng grew hesitant—especially in front of Mo Hua.

He was well aware that Mo Hua’s mastery of formations was leagues beyond that of ordinary Qi-Refining formation masters.

If he said something wrong, he’d only embarrass himself—and then he’d lose any chance of being regarded as “Big Brother” again (not that Mo Hua had ever agreed to it).

So Bai Zisheng stole a glance at his sister.

Bai Zixi sighed lightly.

“Evil Formations and Demonic Formations are strictly forbidden by our family’s elders, and none of the instructors would ever teach them. But I once read a brief mention in a book…”

Her long black lashes fluttered as her autumn-water eyes grew distant in recollection. After a moment, she continued,

“They say Evil and Demonic Formations use flesh and blood as formation media, draw formation runes with corrupted intent, take defiance of the Great Dao as the formation’s core, and refine human lives as its eyes.”

“As for the exact distinctions between the two, the book didn’t say—and I don’t know either.”

Mo Hua nodded.

Bai Zisheng whispered, “Why not ask Mister Zhuang?”

That was Mo Hua’s thought as well, but Bai Zixi shook her head.

“He won’t tell you.”

Mo Hua blinked. “Why not?”

Bai Zixi’s eyes curved slightly. “Because you’re too clever. Mister Zhuang’s afraid you’d learn it instantly.”

(End of Chapter)