Chapter 333: A Change in Heaven and Earth

Outside a gloomy, shadowy lair of a second-grade demonic beast, Mo Hua sat cross-legged, eyes closed. His Divine-Sense was stretched to its utmost limit, probing for traces of spiritual energy within the cave.

After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Mo Hua opened his eyes and shook his head.

“Nothing.”

A few Foundation Establishment cultivators quickly gathered around him and, following the map’s markings, proceeded to the next lair.

After checking several nests this way, Zhang Lan finally couldn’t hold it in anymore. He lowered his voice and quietly asked Commander Yang:

“How can he tell?”

Zhang Lan had tagged along as well.

Though only a Qi-Refining cultivator, he was still a Dao Court Division official from a noble family. Even against a second-grade beast, he had some means of protecting himself—so he came too.

“How else?” Commander Yang replied just as quietly. “He’s using Divine-Sense, of course.”

“Nonsense, that’s obvious!” Zhang Lan said irritably. “I’m asking—how can Divine-Sense see the traces of a formation?”

“As long as the Divine-Sense is strong enough.”

“And what’s ‘strong enough’ supposed to mean?”

“Foundation Establishment, I guess… isn’t this kid’s Divine-Sense already at Foundation Establishment level?”

“You’re also at Foundation Establishment Divine-Sense. Can you see it?” Zhang Lan shot back.

“Of course…” Commander Yang started, but his tone faltered midway.

Zhang Lan glanced sideways at him. “Liars stay single for life.”

Commander Yang froze. “Damn it, you’re vicious—how can you say something that cruel?”

“Can you really see it?” Zhang Lan pressed again.

After a long internal struggle, Commander Yang decided that compared to his lifelong prospects, saving face in front of Zhang Lan wasn’t worth it.

He admitted honestly, “No, I can’t.”

Zhang Lan looked at him with open disdain.

Commander Yang returned the look just as disdainfully. “As if you could.”

“I’m only a Qi-Refining cultivator—not being able to see is normal. You’re Foundation Establishment. You can’t see—it’s embarrassing!” Zhang Lan retorted with confidence.

“Qi-Refining and proud of it? You’re shameless, Zhang Lan!” Commander Yang said, disgusted.

Such mockery had long since lost its sting for Zhang Lan.

With a calm face, he suddenly mused, “If not because of Divine-Sense… then what else?”

Commander Yang stroked his chin, thinking for a moment. “Because Mo Hua’s a Formation Master?”

Since Mo Hua constantly dealt with arrays, drawing runes daily, it was natural his Divine-Sense could pick up traces of formations others couldn’t.

Zhang Lan nodded slightly—it sounded reasonable.

“But,” Commander Yang frowned again, “can other Formation Masters really sense them like that?”

This was a demonic beast’s lair—thick with demonic aura, mixed with all kinds of blood energy and corrupted spirit power. It was enough to mask any normal spiritual trace.

Even with his Foundation Establishment Divine-Sense, he couldn’t clearly discern what was inside.

Even if other Formation Masters were stronger, they shouldn’t be that much stronger.

But Mo Hua was different. When he said there was or wasn’t a formation, his expression carried absolute certainty—like he could see it.

That meant his Divine-Sense could perceive the lair with astonishing clarity, grasping even the faintest traces of a formation as though looking through fire and glass.

Zhang Lan frowned, thinking hard—but soon gave up.

“Probably another one of his weird tricks…” he muttered.

By now, he was used to it.

Especially when it came to formations—at first, he could still “advise” Mo Hua a bit. But now, compared to Mo Hua, he was practically an illiterate.

If he was an illiterate, then Yang Jiyong was undoubtedly a bigger one.

Two formation illiterates pondering such a question—it was sheer overconfidence.

Zhang Lan consoled himself by mentally insulting Yang Jiyong, and that made him feel better.

After searching a few more lairs, they arrived at a desolate cave. As Mo Hua spread out his Divine-Sense, his expression suddenly froze.

The others immediately tensed. “What did you find?”

Mo Hua raised his head, eyes gleaming faintly. “There’s a formation!”

There really was one!

Everyone’s faces brightened. “What kind of formation?”

“Wait a moment,” Mo Hua said. “Let me take a look.”

He extended his Divine-Sense once again, following the flow of spiritual energy within the array, deducing the lines of the formation—drawing them stroke by stroke in the blank space of his Sea of Consciousness to reconstruct its structure and determine its type.

An hour later, he opened his eyes, took out paper and brush, and quickly sketched a rough map of the cave’s tunnels and the formations laid along them.

“There wasn’t enough time—I couldn’t finish calculating. The diagram might be incomplete, but it should be useful for reference.”

Elder Yu and the others didn’t understand formations, but they trusted Mo Hua completely. To them, any formation issue could be solved as long as Mo Hua was around.

Zhang Lan and Commander Yang, however, exchanged glances of surprise.

“Calculate?”

They had never heard of anyone calculating a formation before.

How was that even done?

Coming from aristocratic families, they might not have mastered formations, but they knew the basics.

And yet, in all their lives—among clan elders, sect experts, and wandering masters—they had never heard any Formation Master use the word “calculate.”

And now, such an obscure term came from a mere Qi-Refining seventh-layer youth—a first-grade formation master barely ten years old.

Just who had this child learned from? What kind of profound knowledge had he been taught?

The two men outwardly stayed composed, but inside their hearts were surging like waves.

For the first time, they truly felt the unfathomable depth of the one who had instructed Mo Hua in formation arts.

And in that moment, even Mo Hua himself seemed deep and inscrutable in their eyes.

But there was no time to dwell on it now—catching the Qian Clan’s old ancestor came first.

Chief Steward Zhou pointed at Mo Hua’s map. “These tunnels lead to the innermost chambers. The Qian Clan’s ancestor should be hiding somewhere inside.”

“We’ll split up. If anything strange happens, don’t act rashly—send a signal. The rest will regroup immediately. Once we’re together, we strike as one.”

Everyone nodded. They each chose a path.

Before departing, Elder Yu turned back and softly reminded Mo Hua,

“Hide yourself well—be careful.”

“I will.” Mo Hua nodded, glancing at Elder Yu’s arm with concern. “Elder, are your injuries alright?”

Elder Yu had been wounded and lost an arm when ambushing the Qian Clan’s ancestor. Though Elder Feng had treated him, the damage left him weakened and unsteady.

Not only Elder Yu—everyone had sustained injuries in that earlier siege.

Now, facing an unknown enemy, the outcome could easily turn grim.

Elder Yu smiled calmly. “I’ve fought against the Qian Clan for so many years—never thought I’d live to corner their ancestor like this. If I can kill him, even losing both arms or this old life of mine would be worth it.”

Mo Hua’s worry deepened.

Elder Yu patted his shoulder lightly and sighed. “Don’t fret. I know my limits.”

Mo Hua nodded again, watching anxiously as the others disappeared into the darkness ahead.

Even knowing the danger, none of them hesitated.

“Let’s hope nothing goes wrong…”

Hiding his presence, Mo Hua concealed himself in a corner and sighed softly.

At that same moment, in the Forgetful Meditation Abode atop South Mountain—

Mister Zhuang was not, as usual, lounging on his bamboo recliner. Instead, he sat upright and composed at his desk, sorting through books and jade slips.

“For Mo Hua?”

Old Kui had appeared silently, his wooden voice calm.

“Mm.” Mister Zhuang didn’t look up. His eyes stayed on a scroll in his hand. “Just compiling some formation insights for him. Once I’m gone, he’ll have to rely on himself to keep studying formations…”

His tone was light—but a faint melancholy lingered within it.

“You’ve never been this attentive to any of your direct disciples before,” Old Kui remarked blandly.

Mister Zhuang froze for a heartbeat. Old memories stirred, and a faint, bitter smile touched his lips.

“I was never a qualified teacher…”

He chuckled self-mockingly.

“Not even a good disciple, truth be told. Otherwise, things wouldn’t have ended the way they did…”

He trailed off, his expression sinking into quiet desolation.

Old Kui said nothing.

“Forget it,” Mister Zhuang murmured. “Old matters are but smoke and dust—gone with the wind.”

He packed the jade slips into a Storage Ring and finally leaned back in his chair again.

“What about those two Bai children?” Old Kui asked.

Mister Zhuang thought for a moment and sighed. “They’re good kids… both of them.”

Then, with a hint of surprise, he added, “Never thought my selfish junior sister could raise such children.”

“You truly won’t take them as disciples?” Old Kui asked.

“No.” Mister Zhuang shook his head firmly. “I don’t have much time left. Before I’m buried, I just want peace—fewer entanglements, fewer karmic threads.”

“They may not give up so easily.”

“Then let them try,” Mister Zhuang said indifferently, his eyes drifting past the courtyard toward the far-off horizon.

“The sky is vast, the waters boundless. Meeting again won’t be so easy. Not every time can fate align so kindly…”

Nor does every place have a little disciple named Mo Hua…

He thought silently to himself.

Seeing that Mister Zhuang’s resolve was firm, Old Kui said no more.

For a while, they sat in silence.

Then, as Mister Zhuang closed his eyes to rest, his brow suddenly twitched. His eyes opened again, staring toward the heavens—long and intent.

“What is it?” Old Kui asked.

Mister Zhuang’s brow furrowed, his voice grave.

“Why has the aura of the Great Dao become so turbid?”

Old Kui looked up as well—and his expression changed.

“This is…”

Mister Zhuang slowly stood, forming seals with his fingers, calculating silently. His face grew increasingly astonished.

“Heaven’s Dao… has changed?”

A tremor ran through him. He calculated again, and his disbelief only deepened.

“How could this be…” he murmured, dazed.

“This is merely a small immortal city in one corner of the Nine Provinces—how could there possibly be… a mutation in the Heavenly Dao itself?”

(End of Chapter)