Chapter 334: The Evil Dao
Mister Zhuang’s perception of the Heavenly Dao’s disturbance—Mo Hua knew nothing of it.
At the mouth of the cave, he found a hidden patch of weeds, cast a concealment spell, and hid within.
Even a Foundation Establishment cultivator would not be able to find him.
Mo Hua worried about Elder Yu and the others, but after staring at the cave entrance for a long time, there was still no sign of movement.
“Is there no demonic beast inside this lair?”
He was puzzled.
When he had probed it with his Divine-Sense, he found the demonic aura within faint and stifled—not at all like a place inhabited by a demon beast.
Or rather, a second-rank demon beast had once lived here, but now it was gone. Otherwise, the demonic aura wouldn’t have weakened so much.
What kind of second-rank demon beast used to live here?
Mo Hua frowned, thought for a moment—then suddenly froze, a chill creeping up his spine.
“Could it have been… that pig?”
The Qian Family Ancestor had wanted to refine the Transmutation of Lifespan and Essence Pill. But to refine an Evil Pill, one needed an Evil Formation—and for the formation to function, it required flesh and blood as its medium.
That medium could only be human or beast.
But the Transmutation of Lifespan and Essence Pill was an extremely difficult pill to refine, requiring a very long time—and human blood and qi simply could not sustain such a lengthy process.
Not to mention, the refining process demanded continuous use of human lives as materials.
Surely, the Qian Ancestor wouldn’t go so far as to… force people to eat people.
Thus, the most suitable cauldron would be a second-rank demon beast.
Demon beasts devour humans, possess vigorous blood essence, and live long—perfect for serving as a living furnace for that pill.
A conjecture gradually formed in Mo Hua’s heart.
This lair was probably that pig’s lair.
It must have been gravely wounded and captured by the Qian Ancestor, who then took over its den and turned it into his secret alchemy chamber.
But even gravely injured, a second-rank demon beast wasn’t something the Qian Ancestor could handle alone. The one who helped him subdue the pig demon was likely the Qian Family’s Great Elder.
During the subjugation, the Great Elder lost an arm and was severely injured—he should’ve been near death.
But with the Human Lifespan Pill, things changed.
That pill, refined with human lives as the medicinal guide, could replenish vitality and prolong life.
However, if the Great Elder had taken it and recovered, others might grow suspicious.
So the Qian Ancestor had him fake his death—conceal himself in the mountains, secretly build Black Mountain Stronghold, recruit evil cultivators, refine Human Lifespan Pills, and assist in refining the Transmutation of Lifespan and Essence Pill.
Though Mo Hua could not confirm it, this speculation likely wasn’t far from the truth.
“The Qian Ancestor truly is meticulous…” he sighed inwardly.
Looking back toward the dark lair, unease welled in his chest.
With such cunning, what hidden dangers had the Qian Ancestor laid deeper inside?
Night had fallen. Dew hung heavy in the mountains. A chill wind swept through, carrying with it a biting cold.
Mo Hua shivered—then suddenly caught the faint sound of wind.
He stiffened, listening closely. The sound came from inside the cave.
It was… an echo of the wind.
His eyelid twitched.
How could there be wind echoing from within such a deep cave?
He crept forward, still under concealment, following the sound—until he noticed a crack along one of the cave walls.
He reached out to touch it. The soil and stones were freshly packed and faintly damp.
Applying a bit of pressure, the soil caved in.
Shock struck him.
A hidden tunnel—recently sealed!
And curiously, there was no formation around it.
Mo Hua realized that his full attention had been on detecting formations deeper in the cave, completely overlooking this unguarded section.
He excelled in formations—yet precisely because of that, he’d been blinded by formations.
A skilled swimmer drowns; a skilled rider falls.
So this was a “shadow beneath the lamp,” then…
He sighed softly, taking the lesson to heart. Next time, he’d have to be more cautious.
But what was this tunnel for? Surely, the Qian Ancestor wouldn’t really be hiding here?
He released his Divine-Sense—it felt thick, murky, and stifling beyond the crack, heavy with blood stench. He couldn’t discern anything within.
What to do?
After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to take a look.
Just a glance from the entrance—nothing more.
If there was danger, he’d retreat and alert the others. If not, he could quietly slip away.
The crack was wide and loosely sealed, and Mo Hua’s small frame let him squeeze through with ease.
Beyond was a downward-sloping stone stairway, dimly lit by a faint crimson glow at its end.
A chill crept over him—something felt wrong. Still, he steeled himself and descended.
After only a few steps, he heard a harsh snoring sound… and the murmuring voice of an old man.
The noise was oddly muffled, trapped within the confines of that underground chamber—inaudible from afar, yet oppressively loud up close.
The staircase was narrow and dark but short. Soon, he reached the bottom.
To the right lay a wide stone chamber.
Pressing himself against the wall, Mo Hua peeked in—just for an instant.
Cold sweat drenched his back.
The Qian Ancestor!
That old monster was really here!
He calmed himself and thought deeply, emotions churning.
Finding the Qian Ancestor was both a blessing and a curse.
The good part—no one else would stumble upon him and fall into danger.
The bad part—he had.
Mo Hua sighed inwardly.
So the deeper array was just a diversion!
Everyone assumed the Qian Ancestor would hide in the depths—but instead, he had hidden right at the entrance!
Truly, this old fox’s mind worked on a completely different level!
Had he been discovered?
Mo Hua tensed—but sensed no Divine-Sense probing around him. The Qian Ancestor was speaking calmly with someone; his tone hadn’t changed at all. Mo Hua relaxed slightly.
His concealment had held.
He took another careful glance—and saw the stone chamber cluttered and blood-reeking, filled with sinister herbs and porcelain bowls brimming with colorful juices.
At the center lay a giant pig, snoring hideously.
Beside it stood two cultivators—one was the Qian Ancestor, the other… the Qian Family Patriarch, Qian Hong!
Mo Hua frowned.
The Qian Family was under strict lockdown; no one was allowed out.
So how was Qian Hong here?
As Patriarch, his position was second only to the Ancestor’s—even if he held little real power.
Could he be involved with Black Mountain Stronghold?
Mo Hua thought about it—but couldn’t figure it out.
Either way, time to leave.
The pig was still breathing—the pill wasn’t complete yet.
The Qian Ancestor hadn’t consumed it, meaning he was still only mid-stage Foundation Establishment—and heavily injured.
If Mo Hua could slip away now, send a signal, and bring others over, they could finish this once and for all.
The Black Mountain affair would be settled completely.
Just as he turned to leave, the Qian Ancestor sighed:
“Hong’er, our Qian Clan’s path has not been easy…”
Mo Hua silently cursed, “Easy? You old bastard—was it easy for the poor rogue cultivators of Tōngxiān City whom you exploited?”
Still, he paused—curious what more the old man had to say.
Perhaps there was something he didn’t yet know.
After all, those evil arts and heretical pill recipes weren’t things an ordinary cultivator could obtain.
The Qian Ancestor continued slowly:
“Do you know what this world truly is?”
Qian Hong stayed silent.
The Ancestor didn’t seem to expect an answer. He went on, speaking to himself:
“I’ve lived more than three hundred years and at last understood one truth—
A cultivator’s strength has limits. To achieve great things, one must borrow the strength of others—drink the blood of others.”
“This world is one of the strong devouring the weak—big fish eat small fish, small fish eat shrimp.”
“The cultivation world is no different. Rogues are exploited by small clans, small clans are oppressed by mid-tier families, mid-tier families crushed by the great houses.”
“In essence—it’s all the blood of the rogue cultivators being sucked dry.”
“The Dao Court changes, noble clans rise and fall, sects replace one another—but one thing never changes:
The rogues at the bottom remain the bottom, forever bled, forever despised.”
“The prosperity of this cultivation world is built upon their blood and tears—yet none of that prosperity belongs to them.”
“So—never be a rogue cultivator!”
“That’s the first truth I learned back when I was one.”
“So I wanted to plant my roots, build a family, rely on that family to reach the Dao.”
“But even that didn’t work. I had no spirit stones, no connections. Alone, I could never establish the Qian Clan.”
“Hunting beasts could never earn enough stones in a lifetime.”
“So—kill, and steal.”
“No matter how filthy the means, once you succeed, people will whitewash your past, sing your praises, and crawl at your feet like dogs.”
“The Qian Clan rose and prospered—but still, it wasn’t enough.”
“The greatest benefits of this world are monopolized by the great clans and sects. We small families—even if we flay the rogues again—there’s little left to gain.”
“Our growth stagnated. My cultivation reached its limit. My lifespan was dwindling.”
“I realized, at this rate, I would die a mediocre death.”
“Then Heaven showed me a path. One day, I met a strange Daoist. After we spoke, he was delighted and gifted me several manuals of the Evil Dao, the Human Lifespan Pill, and the formula for the Transmutation of Lifespan and Essence Pill.”
“I cultivated the evil arts, refined evil pills, and stepped onto the Evil Path—and everything became clear.”
“Tell me—does ‘humanity’ even exist?”
“It can, or it can’t—it depends entirely on how you choose to see it.”
“If you regard others as human, then they are human.
If you do not, then they are not.”
“Others are tools to harvest spirit stones—servants to toil before you—pigs and dogs to be slaughtered, spirit and blood slaves to fuel your path, stepping stones toward your Dao.”
“Only then did I understand—this world… is one where men eat men.”
“It’s not only the demonic path that devours humans—the righteous path does too.”
“Demonic cultivators consume flesh and blood; righteous sects exploit and enslave, draining invisible blood, eating invisible flesh. The world is merely too blind to see it.”
“The Way of Man—takes from the weak to nourish the strong, sacrifices the masses to uplift oneself. Only then can one rise above all beings and grasp the Dao of Immortality.”
“That—is the one truth of this world that can never be overturned.”
(End of Chapter)