Chapter 331: Parting Sentiments

Mo Hua steadied his mood and thought carefully once more.

The Dao-Dissolution he’d simulated couldn’t truly be called that yet—at best, it was merely a prototype of the Great Dao’s Dissolution.

After all, he was still only in the Qi-Refining stage; he could only draw first-grade formations, and thus could only derive and manifest a first-grade Dao-Dissolution force.

But even that was enough.

Mo Hua was already deeply satisfied with its power.

A peak late-stage first-grade demonic black bear had been annihilated by the formation’s collapse—its death was instantaneous. That level of destructive might was far beyond what any Qi-Refining cultivator could normally unleash.

“If that’s the case… then if I layer the formation and trigger a full collapse… could it actually injure a Foundation Establishment cultivator?”

Mo Hua couldn’t help thinking.

Who could he test it on?

Judging from its current power, even a Foundation Establishment early-stage cultivator might—well—“test it and perish.”

So… it had to be tested on an evil cultivator, then.

Mo Hua stroked his chin, pondering.

“Maybe I could… sacrifice the Third Boss?”

He was going to be executed by the Dao Court anyway; before he died, using him to test a formation would at least count as recycling waste.

The only issue was—the Dao Court Division probably wouldn’t approve.

Execution was an official punishment according to Daoist law; using him to test formations would amount to extrajudicial punishment—definitely against regulations.

Mo Hua sighed in mild regret.

If only he had learned this earlier.

Then during the assault on Black Mountain Stronghold, he could’ve secretly deployed it and tested its effect on Foundation Establishment cultivators in live combat.

But now, the only Foundation Establishment left in the entire affair was the Qian Family Patriarch.

And that man was mid-stage Foundation Establishment—shrewd, calculating, and utterly treacherous.

Mo Hua wasn’t confident that his formation collapse could kill him. Even if it could, there was no guarantee he could lure him into it.

If the attempt failed, he’d only end up feeding himself to the old fox.

Mo Hua spread his Divine-Sense, confirmed the surroundings were safe, and that the black bear was truly dead, then approached to inspect the results.

Half of the black bear’s body remained completely intact—not even a single hair damaged.

The other half, however, had completely vanished—transformed into black powder. That powder was pitch-dark and scentless, devoid of any trace of blood or spiritual energy—like the lifeless remains of something whose Dao and body had both perished.

This—this was the essence of a formation master’s comprehension: the application of Heaven’s principles through formations.

“Formation masters are terrifying…”

Mo Hua muttered under his breath, then added with a small grin,

“Good thing I am one.”

A little smug warmth rose in his heart.

Then, in the midst of the black ash, Mo Hua found a tiny sprout of grass.

It was one he had intentionally preserved—the Gate of Life he had left behind.

Mister Zhuang had told him once: The Great Dao flows in cycles of life and death; destruction gives birth to creation, and where there is death, there is life.

A formation’s collapse may dissolve all things—but within that dissolution, there still exists a single thread of vitality, the Gate of Life derived within Divine-Sense calculations.

Mo Hua had wanted to test both the destructive power of his formation collapse, and whether his Gate of Life truly existed.

And that Gate of Life… he had designated to this tiny sprout of grass.

In the faint mountain breeze, the tender grass swayed gently.

Even while surrounded by the terrifying power of dissolution, it remained unharmed.

That proved Mo Hua’s calculations were correct.

He had not only derived the power of collapse, but also the path of life within that collapse.

A bright smile spread across his face.

With more practice in derivation, more trials in collapse, and more experiments in life-gate prediction—his formation arts would grow exponentially.

Sooner or later, his mastery would reach a level that made other formation masters tremble in awe.

After basking in his small victory for a while, Mo Hua began to clean up the scene.

He erased traces of the collapse, skinned and butchered the black bear, planning to sell its parts for spirit stones. The pelt was damaged and most of the blood essence gone, so it wouldn’t fetch much—but even mosquito legs are still meat; waste not.

When he finished, he summarized his understanding of formation collapse—and couldn’t help feeling a bit of regret.

Though powerful, the technique wasn’t very practical.

It required advance derivation, which consumed an enormous amount of Divine-Sense and time.

Without thorough preparation, it couldn’t be used in real combat.

And for now, it could only function like the Groundfire Array—as a trap.

That meant pre-setting it, and ensuring no one detected it.

When used on demonic beasts, its destructive power was excessive—half the corpse turned to ash, leaving little worth selling.

Essentially… a financial loss.

When used on cultivators, the target had to be neither too smart nor too cautious—ideally someone who didn’t even know Mo Hua was a formation master.

Otherwise, they’d never fall for it.

Moreover, the Gate of Life left after collapse was extremely small—only a span or two in size, not enough for a person to survive within.

At the moment, that Gate of Life was useless to him.

Mo Hua sighed.

When you think about it, the conditions for using formation collapse were absurdly restrictive—complex derivation, long preparation time, narrow life gate, and ideally a rather stupid opponent.

Truly—the stronger the power, the harsher the limitations.

He mused quietly.

Still, no matter how restrictive it was, having great power was always better than having none.

One shouldn’t be too greedy.

He nodded to himself, packed everything up, and prepared to leave. Before going, he turned to look again at the little sprout of grass.

All around, soil, stone, and vegetation had been obliterated into lifeless barrenness.

Only that fragile grass remained—weak, yet unyielding—swaying in the breeze, filled with boundless vitality.

Mo Hua stared at it in silence, then a sudden realization bloomed in his heart.

Mister Zhuang had been right—within Heaven and Earth, the myriad ways of the Dao are interwoven: where there is life, there must be death; and where there is death, life will surely arise.

…

In the days that followed, Mo Hua continued to visit Mister Zhuang every day.

Sometimes he came with genuine formation questions seeking guidance;

sometimes he brought his mother’s delicious cooking for Mister Zhuang to taste;

and when he was simply bored, he’d come to chat—about the customs of Tōngxiān City, or anecdotes from other cultivation provinces.

When he had free time, he also played Five Elements Chess with Old Kui.

A simple, brain-teasing pastime, and the two enjoyed it immensely.

Mo Hua cherished those days dearly.

Because he knew—in perhaps half a year, or perhaps just a month—Mister Zhuang would leave.

The cultivation world was vast and boundless, and the path of Dao was long and uncertain.

Once parted, they might never meet again.

Whenever he thought about that, Mo Hua’s expression would turn melancholy.

Mister Zhuang would gently pat his head and say, “Cultivate well—there will always be a day when paths cross again.”

Mo Hua nodded solemnly.

Meeting was fate; companionship was fate; even parting was a kind of fate.

Only after meeting can there be parting—and only after parting can one meet again.

Even the carefree Bai Zisheng noticed the strange atmosphere. “Mister Zhuang’s leaving?” he asked.

“Mm.” Mo Hua didn’t hide it.

Bai Zisheng’s face grew complicated. Bai Zixi seemed calm, though her eyes dimmed slightly.

Mo Hua asked, “If Mister Zhuang leaves, will you two go as well?”

Bai Zisheng, despite his proud exterior, had a chivalrous heart and treated Mo Hua quite well. Bai Zixi had helped him many times, sharing insights and knowledge.

Even if they were only registered disciples, they were still half peers in apprenticeship—Mo Hua valued that bond greatly.

Bai Zisheng looked downcast. “Most likely, yes…”

They had followed Mister Zhuang in hopes of becoming his personal disciples; if he left, they would have to leave too.

Even if they wanted to stay, Aunt Xue wouldn’t allow it.

The mood grew heavy.

Mo Hua took out the wine, meat, and pastries his mother made. “The path of cultivation is long. Those fated to meet will meet again.”

“Yeah…”

Bai Zisheng nodded weakly, chewing the beef without tasting it.

Bai Zixi said nothing—just nibbled on a pastry that somehow wasn’t as sweet anymore.

Because of their frequent visits to Mister Zhuang, Mo Hua spent much more time with the Bai siblings.

Aunt Xue no longer assigned them so much homework, and Bai Zisheng sparred with Mo Hua often.

Bai Zisheng, at Qi-Refining ninth layer, was strong in both cultivation and martial skill. In the past, he’d suppress his cultivation and spar only in movement or techniques.

But now, with Mo Hua’s Divine-Sense foundation established, his Flowing-Water Step, Concealment Technique, and Fireball Spell—all powered by Divine-Sense—had grown much stronger. He could face Bai Zisheng head-on without needing him to hold back.

Their exchanges were fierce and even—strike and counterstrike, blow for blow.

When tired, they lay down beneath the great locust tree to rest.

Mo Hua sprawled on the soft grass, drenched in sweat, panting heavily.

In pure technique, fueled by his potent Divine-Sense, he actually surpassed Bai Zisheng slightly.

But the problem was—his physique and spiritual roots were simply too poor.

After a few bouts, his spiritual power would run dry, or his limbs would falter, giving Bai Zisheng a chance to close in and pin him down.

Bai Zisheng, equally out of breath, lay beside him.

He had thought he could win easily if he went all out—turns out, not at all.

Mo Hua’s Flowing-Water Step was slippery and elusive, impossible to pin down; his Fireball Spell was swift, accurate, and fierce—definitely not to be underestimated.

And he hadn’t even used his Concealment Technique. If he had, a sneak attack would’ve been near impossible to defend against.

In the end, Bai Zisheng could only use a “grind him down” tactic—drain Mo Hua’s spiritual power and stamina, then find an opening to subdue him.

He could win—but it didn’t feel like a true victory.

Seems I still need to work harder… can’t let Mo Hua surpass me, or I’ll never get to be the big brother again!

A spark of determination lit in Bai Zisheng’s eyes.

The two lay under the locust tree, staring at the drifting clouds, their minds empty.

Then, Mo Hua suddenly remembered something—the matter of the pill furnace.

In recent days, the Dao Court Division and Dao Soldiers Division had scoured Tōngxiān City and Black Mountain Stronghold. Any pill furnaces with abnormal design or unclear function were destroyed on sight.

Better to err on the side of caution—to eliminate entirely any chance the Qian Family Patriarch could refine evil pills again.

Zhang Lan had told Mo Hua,

“All suspicious pill furnaces have been destroyed. Even if the Qian Patriarch wanted to refine pills, he no longer has the tools to do so.”

“Besides, the Life-Conversion Pill takes over a hundred years to cultivate properly. It’s an extremely long and delicate process—even sects devoted to demonic alchemy rarely succeed, let alone the Qian Patriarch. Perhaps we’re just worrying too much.”

Mo Hua found Zhang Lan’s reasoning sound and felt somewhat reassured.

Yet deep down, a vague unease still lingered.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d forgotten something—something important.

It was like the mists of Black Mountain—visible, intangible, yet undeniably there.

As he pondered, he suddenly noticed Bai Zixi gazing quietly at him.

He turned his head—and their eyes met.

Her eyes were clear as water, twin pupils shining like carved gems.

Both froze.

White locust blossoms drifted down between them.

Time seemed to stop.

After a long while, they both averted their gaze.

For some reason, a sudden sense of loss welled in Mo Hua’s heart. Fragments of memory surfaced—Bai Zixi’s voice, light and melodious, echoing in his mind.

Her words about formations.

Her explanations of secret techniques.

Her soft praise of his mother’s pastries.

As his thoughts drifted, a single sentence suddenly burst to the forefront of his mind:

“Evil formations and demonic formations generally use flesh and blood as the array medium, painted with evil intent, and invert the Dao as the array core…”

Flesh and blood as the array medium…

His pupils shrank. Mo Hua leapt to his feet.

Now he understood the source of his unease.

He really had forgotten something—

The fat, enormous pig in that blood-red pill chamber!

If evil formations use flesh and blood as their medium…

Then that blood-scarred pig—it wasn’t a sacrifice.

It was the formation medium itself.

Those bloody lines weren’t wounds.

They were evil formation runes.

The evil formation wasn’t carved on the pill furnace.

It was the pill furnace.

That pig—was the true furnace body!

And within its flesh… was being refined the pill that could help the Qian Family Patriarch break through his cultivation…

The Lifespan-Conversion Essence Pill.!

(End of Chapter)