Chapter 322: The Past
Elder Yu frowned. “Back when the Qian Family’s Grand Elder died—or rather, pretended to die—I was still young, my cultivation low. I only saw him from afar a few times, when he sparred with the late Elder Hunter of Demons.”
“In everyone’s eyes, the Qian Family’s Grand Elder was long dead. So when I encountered that ‘First Master’ in Black Mountain Stronghold, I didn’t even think in that direction at first.”
“But if what Mo Hua says is true—that the Qian Family Ancestor is the Stronghold’s true master—then that First Master is very likely the supposedly deceased Grand Elder himself!”
Elder Yu paused to recall further.
“When we attacked Black Mountain Stronghold, I personally fought that First Master. One of his arms had no spiritual power—it was an iron arm grafted later. And back then, the Qian Family’s Grand Elder had lost an arm as well.”
Everyone’s expressions darkened.
The Qian Family Ancestor as the hidden master, and the First Master as their Grand Elder—
Everything fit perfectly.
The Qian Family had used a deception—feigning the Grand Elder’s death. In truth, he became the First Master of Black Mountain Stronghold, gathering Criminal Cultivators, cultivating evil arts, and refining Human-Pills.
Meanwhile, the Qian Family Ancestor secretly funded and supported the operation with the clan’s wealth, allowing Black Mountain Stronghold to grow in power step by step.
Few in the Qian Family knew this truth, and few of the Evil Cultivators in the Stronghold were aware either.
Thus, the Qian Family Ancestor could hide safely in the shadows. Even if the Stronghold was destroyed and the Evil Cultivators slain or captured, no one would suspect him.
Because most of those villains didn’t even know he existed.
And if the Stronghold wasn’t destroyed…
Then the Qian Family Ancestor could use Human Life-Pills to prolong his lifespan, living on in secret—while the Qian Family itself gained strength from its hidden ally, ensuring it would forever remain unshakable.
No matter how many losses they suffered publicly, as long as they endured quietly, they could always rise again.
In the vicinity of Tōngxiān City, there was simply no power capable of opposing Black Mountain Stronghold.
“What a profound scheme…” Elder Yu sighed.
Yang Jiyong and Zhang Lan both nodded solemnly.
Elder Yu let out another long breath. “When the Qian Family Ancestor was young, he was eccentric and vindictive. In his later years, he seemed to mellow—I thought it was because age had worn him down, that his competitiveness had faded. I never imagined… he was merely lying in wait, weaving such an elaborate web in silence.”
Mo Hua pondered aloud:
“So that’s why the Qian Family, this past year or two, has suffered setback after setback—yet every time, they made a great fuss but caused little harm, letting matters quietly fade away. They’ve been keeping a low profile all along… afraid that exposure might reveal their secret.”
It all made sense now:
First, Qian Xing was gravely injured by an explosion, but the Qian Family didn’t press the issue.
Then they lost the battle over the spirit mine.
In the competition between the artifact and alchemy guilds, they fell behind again.
And finally, when they tried to kill the formation prodigy Mo Hua, they failed once more.
Yet despite all that, they endured—every single time.
Because the Qian Family’s true foundation wasn’t in its cultivators, its spirit stones, its alchemy or forging trade, or even its formation mastery—
It was in Black Mountain Stronghold, the den of hundreds of Evil Cultivators they secretly controlled.
That was their real lifeline—one they could never afford to expose.
If their secret ever drew too much attention, if sharp eyes began to notice patterns, to pull at loose threads and trace them back to the Qian Family’s dealings with Black Mountain Stronghold…
The Dao Court would certainly dispatch its Dao Soldiers to annihilate the Stronghold.
And the Qian Family itself would be implicated for colluding with Evil Cultivators—its estate confiscated, its members exiled, its legacy torn apart.
Centuries of accumulation—gone in an instant.
The room fell silent, filled with cold dread.
Yang Jiyong said gravely, “That Qian Family Ancestor—fortunate for the world that he’s confined to little Tōngxiān City, and that his cultivation is only at Foundation Establishment. Were he in a higher-grade prefecture and a higher realm, he would surely become a demonic overlord beyond comprehension.”
Mo Hua nodded in agreement.
The cunning and depth of that man’s scheming far surpassed Qian Hong’s.
In comparison, Qian Hong’s only talent was his endless patience—like an old turtle hiding in its shell.
Mo Hua asked, “Uncle Yang, can we mobilize Dao Soldiers to deal with the Qian Family Ancestor?”
Yang Jiyong pondered for a moment, then said slowly,
“By the orders of the Dao Soldier Division, we were to depart tomorrow. But given the urgency, I’ll petition the Division to postpone our departure a few days.”
Mo Hua’s eyes lit up, but Yang Jiyong added,
“Still, we must verify the facts. We can’t act rashly. We must confirm that the Qian Family Ancestor truly is the master of Black Mountain Stronghold—and that he’s genuinely connected to it. Otherwise, a false move could cause a major blunder.”
Mo Shan thought for a bit and said, “That Second Master—we can question him.”
Zhang Lan shook his head. “He’s half-mad, barely coherent. He won’t know anything.”
“We don’t need full answers,” Mo Shan explained. “Just confirmation that the Stronghold has a master. If he reacts to the word ‘Stronghold Master,’ it proves there is one—and that will make the Qian Family Ancestor even more suspicious.”
Zhang Lan’s eyes brightened. “That could work.”
Mo Hua then added, “I’ll visit Old Master An. He’s competed against the Qian Family for years. He must know something.”
Elder Yu said, “I’ll also ask around the old folks in the city—see if any clues remain.”
The group reached agreement and went their separate ways.
Yang Jiyong began drafting his memorial to the Dao Soldier Division, while the others scattered to gather intelligence.
Mo Hua went straight to the An Family estate.
The guards there all knew him by now. They greeted him respectfully and led him to the guest hall. Someone brought fine-grade tea, inviting him to wait.
Mo Hua took a sip. It tasted good—though he couldn’t quite tell why. He drank a few more cups, none the wiser.
Each time he finished, a servant immediately refilled his cup.
After two refills, Old Master An finally appeared, offering an apologetic bow.
“Apologies, young friend—mundane affairs delayed me.”
Mo Hua returned the gesture. “You’re too courteous, Old Master.”
The old man sat, took a sip of tea, then said,
“What brings you to visit me today, little friend Mo?”
Mo Hua glanced around.
Old Master An understood immediately. He waved to dismiss the attendants, and only when the hall was empty did he speak again.
“Now you can talk freely.”
Mo Hua nodded. “Old Master An, were you well acquainted with the Qian Family Ancestor?”
The old man paused. “Somewhat. But we were never on good terms. The rivalry between the An and Qian families is well-known throughout Tōngxiān City.”
“Then why,” Mo Hua asked, “has your An Family never managed to surpass them?”
A flicker of discomfort crossed Old Master An’s face.
He hated admitting that the An Family had lost out to the Qians. Even if it was true, pride wouldn’t let him say so.
Normally, no one would dare ask such a question to his face.
But Mo Hua was an exception.
He sighed, then answered honestly, “Because the Qian Family is cunning and ruthless. Our An Family lacks that kind of cruelty—so we naturally fall behind.”
“Was the Qian Family Ancestor also ruthless?” Mo Hua pressed.
The old man’s eyes turned cold. “He was the worst of them all—vicious, merciless, vindictive beyond measure. Countless lives lost by his hand… But Heaven has eyes. He aged fast, his vitality faded—he’s barely breathing now.”
There was a hint of schadenfreude in his tone.
Mo Hua thought silently: He’s probably not old at all. His blood hasn’t weakened—he’s just been extending his life in secret… breathing quite nicely, actually.
After a pause, Mo Hua asked the question that truly mattered:
“Old Master An, has your family’s trade caravan ever gone missing near Black Mountain?”
Old Master An froze. His eyes flashed sharply as he looked at Mo Hua in disbelief.
“How do you know about that?”
Seeing his reaction, Mo Hua’s suspicions were confirmed.
“Please,” Mo Hua said, “tell me what happened first. Afterward, I’ll explain how I know.”
The old man’s brows furrowed deeply. He sat in silence for a long time, then finally sighed.
“So be it. It’s all old history now—no harm in telling you…”
Mo Hua held his cup and listened intently.
(End of Chapter)