Chapter 384: Suppression

Sun Ze laughed lightly, a trace of arrogance in his tone. “Kid, you talk big. A word of advice—best not to meddle in things that don’t concern you.”

Mo Hua’s expression remained calm.

“Helping these scattered cultivators with formations—does that interfere with your Sun family’s business?”

Sun Ze snorted and raised his voice.

“This Qiandeng Town is the Sun family’s territory! No one is allowed to draw formations for these scattered cultivators without our permission!”

His words seemed aimed both at Mo Hua and at the nearby cultivators.

He shot Mo Hua a cold glance.

“We treated you kindly, yet you show no gratitude and even act brazenly.”

“You draw a formation for these people, fine, we might turn a blind eye. But you’ve gone too far, meddling in things beyond your place.”

“One formation costs ten spirit stones. You’ve drawn so many for them, and our Sun family is missing hundreds of spirit stones. How do you intend to settle this account?”

Mo Hua cast a glance at the formation lines on the ridge. “Drawing one formation costs less than a single spirit stone. And yet your Sun family charges ten?”

“What do you know? That’s what a formation master is!” Sun Ze said haughtily.

“What kind of status a formation master holds—these people could never reach it!”

“We, the Sun family, are willing to draw formations for these farmers. That’s their honor. Charging ten spirit stones is already generous! And they still complain?”

Mo Hua’s gaze was calm, yet carried a faint air of superiority.

“People like you… call yourselves formation masters?”

Sun Ze froze briefly, then his expression darkened, eyes hardening with malice.

Mo Hua’s words struck a nerve. He could only draw four formation lines—strictly speaking, he wasn’t even a formation master.

Though he was lazy and poor at formations, he could not bear anyone mocking his title—especially by a child barely ten years old.

Sun Ze’s expression shifted, then he forced a sly smile.

“You’re bold, I’ll give you that. But you’re young, inexperienced—you have no idea how treacherous this cultivation world is.”

“Today I’ll show you mercy, teach you a lesson—both in sense and in action.”

His eyes darkened as he signaled a few nearby cultivators.

Several tall, burly Sun family disciples began advancing toward Mo Hua.

Halfway there, a big man blocked them.

“Sun Ze, take it out on us, don’t trouble the young master,” he said.

He discreetly signaled Mo Hua to leave, but Mo Hua ignored him.

Sun Ze sneered. “Ding Dachuan, mind your own business.”

“I said, Sun Ze, don’t think we’re pushovers,” Ding Dachuan replied.

Other cultivators gathered to intercept the Sun family disciples.

Sun Ze raised an eyebrow. “Planning a revolt?”

“You Sun family, don’t bully people!”

“Exactly! It’s one thing to oppress us, but the young master helps us and you still forbid it?”

“You’ll pay for this!”

The cultivators murmured among themselves.

Sun Ze clicked his tongue, scowling.

“A bunch of worthless bones. Won’t obey unless we hit them.”

The Sun family disciples immediately attacked.

The farmers were unskilled in Dao techniques, mostly elderly, and naturally no match for the disciples.

Only Ding Dachuan could hold them off briefly, but he too was soon knocked down.

Struggling, he shouted anxiously:

“Young master, leave quickly!”

Mo Hua standing there was already doing them a huge favor by drawing formations; they didn’t want him to get involved in their conflict with the Sun family.

But Mo Hua remained calm, merely studying Sun Ze.

The disciples pressed forward, closing to within a few meters.

Mo Hua’s gaze sharpened, and just as he was about to act, he paused.

He noticed Miao’er, who had been following behind, now stepping in front, small arms spread as if to protect him.

Perhaps it was because Mo Hua had drawn the formation for his grandfather, or fed him chicken, or given him pastries.

Though trembling, Ding Miao’er stiffened his small face and stood in front of Mo Hua.

“What a good kid…” Mo Hua thought, smiling faintly.

The leading Sun family disciple sneered at the trembling boy and reached out to grab him.

But his hand grasped nothing—Mo Hua had already stepped back, pulling Miao’er with him.

Placing the boy safely on the ground, Mo Hua patted his head, then turned to the arrogant Sun family disciples. His tone was gentle, but his eyes glinted with cold light.

“I haven’t fought in a while, so my technique is a little rusty. Forgive me if I misjudge the force.”

Sun Ze laughed coldly.

“You little brat, at death’s door and talking nonsense?”

The Sun family disciple snarled, stomping toward Mo Hua.

Mo Hua remained calm, lifting his hand.

In an instant, a deep red fireball condensed, faintly sizzling with heat.

With a subtle movement of his Divine Sense, the fireball shot forward, streaking a dim trail of fire, and struck the disciple squarely in the chest.

The flames erupted, shredding clothes, scorching flesh.

The disciple’s momentum was halted as if slammed by immense spiritual power; his chest burned, suffocated.

Amidst the raging fire, he collapsed like a deflated ball.

Silence fell.

Sun Ze’s mind reeled.

What the hell is this? Fireball Technique?!

The other Sun family disciples sweated, exchanging glances with Sun Ze.

Thinking quickly, Sun Ze shouted:

“Fireball Technique! He’s a spirit cultivator!”

“Rush him! Close in, don’t give him a chance to cast more spells!”

The disciples charged from five or six directions.

Mo Hua stood calmly, casually flicking hand after hand of fireballs.

Each deep red fireball struck true, hitting its target and inflicting serious injury.

Even at the Foundation Establishment stage, condensing fireballs with Divine Sense was not to be underestimated.

Fireballs whistled, explosions erupted.

One by one, the disciples fell.

Finally, only two reached Mo Hua.

They rejoiced, but before they could strike, Mo Hua disappeared in a blink.

When they looked again, he was five to six meters away.

What the… movement technique?

They froze, afraid to advance further.

This distance was enough for Mo Hua to launch five or six more fireballs—enough to take them down repeatedly.

Yet fleeing would expose their backs.

Mo Hua raised his hand, sending two fireballs, and both fell.

He added another for caution.

In moments, only Sun Ze remained in the field.

Alone, standing amidst fallen Sun family disciples, a sense of absurd fear surged.

What the hell? A mere seventh-level Qi Refining cultivator took out all these Sun family disciples?

This Fireball Technique—what is it? Fast, accurate, devastating. Is this really a human spell?

Sun Ze felt utterly shocked.

Suddenly, he noticed Mo Hua looking at him, eyes crystal clear, carrying an indescribable meaning.

Once he thought those eyes childish—now he was terrified.

Sun Ze turned and ran, but after a few steps, he veered toward Ding Miao’er, who had witnessed the fireball in shock.

Running would get him nowhere.

Better to take a gamble.

He could capture the boy to threaten Mo Hua or aid his escape.

But every movement, every glance, every intent—Mo Hua sensed it all.

Before Sun Ze could reach Miao’er, Mo Hua formed a grasp with his palm.

Blue Water-element spiritual power materialized, forming chains that bound Sun Ze tightly.

Sun Ze thrashed like a fish caught in a net.

When he finally broke the Water Prison Technique, a fireball struck his face.

Crossing his arms to shield himself, he heard a loud explosion, grew dizzy, and collapsed unconscious.

Before passing out, he muttered:

“Being hit by a fireball… this is what it feels like…”

“Damn, it hurts…”

When Sun Ze awoke, he saw a pale, refined face that still filled him with dread.

Mo Hua stood with the Thousand-Catty Rod in hand, voice clear:

“Heard you wanted to teach me a lesson?”