Chapter 325: The Patriarch Escapes

Mo Hua frowned slightly, his mind turning rapidly.

The Third Master of Black Mountain Stronghold had seen him before.

If that man told the Qian Family Ancestor about Mo Hua’s intrusion and even drew his likeness, then the old ancestor would naturally recognize him.

After all, Mo Hua had caused the Qian Family so much trouble—and he was a young formation genius besides.

There was no way that the Qian Family Ancestor wouldn’t know his face.

The formations within Black Mountain Stronghold had been tampered with.

Mo Hua had entered the stronghold.

Mo Hua was a formation cultivator.

From that, the Qian Family Ancestor would easily deduce that all of this was Mo Hua’s doing—and all debts would be tallied against him.

Yet judging by what was happening now, the Qian Family Ancestor actually didn’t know.

Why?

Mo Hua’s gaze deepened.

There was only one possibility: the Third Master had mentioned that the stronghold’s formations had been tampered with, but hadn’t reported that he had seen Mo Hua himself.

The tampered formations had triggered the Qian Family Ancestor’s suspicion, leading him to make defensive preparations—

but none of them expected that the Dao Court Division would directly petition for Dao Soldiers to be dispatched and wipe out the entire stronghold.

Their small precautions were utterly meaningless.

And because the Third Master concealed the matter of encountering Mo Hua, the Qian Family Ancestor never suspected him.

Although Mo Hua was a formation cultivator, he was still just a youth of barely a dozen years, at a low cultivation realm.

Moreover, the concealment arts and the Flowing-Water Step he had mastered were unknown to the old ancestor.

Thus, even if the ancestor pondered until his mind split open, he could never have imagined that Mo Hua was the one behind it all.

To the ancestor, Black Mountain Stronghold had simply been mysteriously exposed and suddenly eradicated by Dao Soldiers.

“But why,” Mo Hua muttered to himself, “did that Third Master not tell anyone he saw me?”

Could it be that the Third Master… was actually a traitor at heart?

Mo Hua felt puzzled.

The old ancestor did not know the truth, and Elder Yu and the others naturally preferred it that way.

They would never expose Mo Hua.

Elder Yu only said coldly:

“Heaven’s net is vast and fine-meshed—no evil can escape. You’ve committed countless sins; your retribution has come!”

The Qian Family Ancestor merely smiled faintly.

“What a pity,” he said. “This retribution came a little too late. If it had arrived earlier, so many wouldn’t have had to die.”

Everyone’s faces darkened with rage.

“Enough talk!” Commander Yang raised his spear and barked, “Kill!”

Behind him, hundreds of Dao Soldiers shouted in unison, “Kill!” and charged toward the Qian Family Ancestor.

The encirclement began.

During the assault, none of the Qian Family disciples lifted a hand to help.

That was expected—but for no one to act was still shocking.

To strike against Dao Soldiers was to defy the Dao Court.

No one in the Qian Family dared commit such a capital crime.

In this moment of life and death, not one of them cared for their so-called ancestor.

The demon hunters, Dao Court officers, and Qi-Refining cultivators of the An Family didn’t attack either.

They only surrounded the Qian disciples from a distance to deter them, preventing any new chaos from breaking out.

The main force encircling the Qian Family Ancestor consisted of four early Foundation Establishment cultivators led by Elder Yu, alongside Commander Yang’s several hundred Dao Soldiers.

This was the first time Mo Hua had ever witnessed Dao Soldiers in full battle.

Each squad of ten shared similar spiritual roots and identical cultivation methods.

They wore uniform armor, wielded long spears, and through formation resonance, their qi channels linked as one.

Their morale and strength surged sky-high.

When they attacked, their movements were precise and synchronized—their spears shot forth like dragons, then withdrew immediately, never lingering.

As one squad retreated, another pressed forward, forming an endless chain of assaults that gave the old ancestor no time to breathe.

Blood qi surged around the Qian Family Ancestor’s body.

With every wave of his hands, he traced lines of blood through the air, dissolving each incoming strike—but he was visibly starting to tire.

Commander Yang, Elder Yu, Old Master An, and Division Chief Zhou all joined forces with the Dao Soldiers, intent on wearing the old man down to death.

Yet after half a day of battle, the ancestor’s blood qi was still strong.

Elder Yu snarled, “You old dog Qian! How many have you slaughtered? How many Human Life Pills have you consumed to sustain this accursed vitality?!”

The Qian Family Ancestor only sneered silently.

Their attacks grew fiercer.

The four Foundation Establishment cultivators bound him tightly, preventing escape, while Commander Yang led the Dao Soldiers in relentless rotation—each wave draining more of his spiritual power, bleeding him out, piece by pece.

Watching the fight, Mo Hua felt both tense and enlightened.

To conquer the weak by strength—that too was the law of Heaven.

But when the weak unite to overcome the strong—that, too, was Heaven’s law.

A single cultivator may be lacking, but united hearts and shared purpose could overcome that.

Just like a formation: stroke by stroke, rune by rune—each alone insignificant, yet together forming immense power.

Human strength may have limits, but with enough unity, that strength becomes boundless.

The battle dragged on for hours.

Dao Soldiers began to fall; Elder Yu and the others grew bloodied and weary.

At last, the Qian Family Ancestor’s aura wavered—his blood qi finally fading.

He tried several times to break through, but was intercepted again and again, driven back into the encirclement.

Now his demeanor grew feral—blood qi boiling, eyes scarlet with madness like a cornered beast.

Just as everyone believed they would soon suppress him completely—

a sudden surge of powerful qi erupted from one corner of the Qian estate, shooting straight toward the battlefield.

Elder Yu recognized the newcomer and shouted in fury, “The Grand Elder!”

It was indeed the Qian Family Grand Elder—the First Master of Black Mountain Stronghold!

The Qian Family erupted in uproar.

“The Grand Elder?”

“Wasn’t he dead?”

“What’s going on?!”

Only now did the disciples realize how many secrets their clan had hidden—

and that they, the Qian Family’s younger generation, had been completely kept in the dark.

The Grand Elder’s arrival gave the old ancestor his chance.

He forced Commander Yang back with one palm, evaded the Dao Soldiers’ spears, then swept his arm—bloody energy slicing through a squad of soldiers, killing several instantly.

Commander Yang’s eyes blazed with fury.

These men weren’t just subordinates—they were his brothers-in-arms.

“You old bastard—die!”

He poured all his strength into his golden spear.

It trembled with a radiant light and surged with terrifying power.

The Qian Family Ancestor’s face changed. “A superior Dao Art?!”

He tried to retreat, but another team of Dao Soldiers tangled him up, leaving no room to escape.

Moments later, Commander Yang’s qi reached its peak.

Man and spear became one, a golden dragon roaring forth—

and in an instant, the spear pierced clean through the ancestor’s chest.

The golden light wrapped around the wound, grinding away his blood qi, extinguishing his life force.

Death was imminent—

—but in that instant, the Grand Elder’s eyes hardened.

He endured Elder Yu’s sword strike and clashed palm-to-palm with Old Master An, using the recoil to hurl himself toward Commander Yang, forcing him to withdraw.

Commander Yang had no choice but to pull back his spear.

The Qian Family Ancestor gasped for breath and swallowed two blood-red pills.

Flesh writhed across his chest as the wound sealed over—

but the medicine only patched the surface.

If the battle dragged on, he would still die.

He had to flee.

Summoning all his remaining strength, he activated a blood-escape technique, transforming into a streak of crimson light.

Commander Yang tried to intercept, but that last spear strike had drained all his spiritual power.

That technique, Radiant Gold Spear, was the Yang Clan’s secret art—a superior second-grade Dao method.

Its might was tremendous, but its cost was equally steep.

It required long preparation and could only be unleashed once; miss the moment, and you were left exhausted and exposed.

He had struck true—but the ancestor, being mid-Foundation and nourished by countless Human Life Pills, still possessed inhuman vitality.

Grievously wounded, yet not dead.

Elder Yu and the others tried to stop him, but the Grand Elder intercepted every move.

The lesser Dao Soldiers couldn’t hold him either; their spears struck his body, leaving only streaks of blood.

At last, the Qian Family Ancestor burst through the encirclement.

He turned once, eyes gleaming crimson as he looked at the Grand Elder—then swept his gaze across everyone else.

Without a word, he became a stream of blood light and vanished through Tōngxiān City’s gates.

His escape route—toward Black Mountain.

Everyone was exhausted, powerless to chase him.

But the Grand Elder did not flee.

He fought on until his spirit and essence were utterly spent, until his life flickered out.

Kneeling amid his own blood, he finally fell still.

Elder Yu looked at him quietly and sighed.

“Was it worth it?”

The Grand Elder’s expression was blank.

He gave a faint, bitter smile.

“A dying man… everything he does is worth it.”

With that, he closed his eyes.

The Grand Elder of the Qian Family—who had “died” long ago—was now truly dead.

The encirclement came to an end.

Many were wounded; some had fallen to the ancestor’s hand.

The Qian Family Ancestor himself, grievously injured, had fled toward Black Mountain.

Mo Hua sat cross-legged atop a roof, watching from afar.

His heart was filled with both regret and sorrow.

Regret that the old monster hadn’t been slain.

Sorrow for the lives lost and the blood spilled in the process.

He thought to himself,

“If only I were a second-grade formation master, if only I could deploy a second-grade array… perhaps I could have trapped and killed that old man completely, sparing everyone these casualties.”

He let out a soft sigh.

His strength was still insufficient.

His comprehension of formations still shallow.

The path of cultivation was endless; the art of formations, immeasurable.

He still had much to learn—and for now, he was still far from truly strong.

(End of Chapter)