Chapter 445: The Folding Screen

Chapter 446: The Folding Screen

Mo Hua’s heart stirred, his eyes sharp as he fixed his gaze on Zhang Quan.

He wanted to see how Zhang Quan would set up the altar, how he would consecrate the bell, and which ancestral image he would worship.

And also—where exactly was this altar that Zhang Quan was setting up?

Mo Hua had searched the entire Corpse-Cult Village but hadn’t found any altar anywhere.

Zhang Quan issued an order to one of the corpse cultivators:

“Go prepare the offerings.”

The corpse cultivator obeyed and withdrew. Not long after, he returned with a bandit, carrying a clay jar filled with blood.

Zhang Quan nodded, then closed the door to the secret chamber.

He then looked around to make sure no “outsiders” were present. His expression serious, he walked toward a folding screen.

The screen was old, placed against the wall, with a painting of a bleak ink landscape.

Zhang Quan formed several hand seals and muttered some incantations.

Ink energy swirled on the screen, rippling outward, until it dissolved into nothingness, revealing an opening.

Mo Hua was slightly startled.

Inside this secret chamber, there was yet another secret chamber?

He hadn’t even noticed it himself.

It seemed he had underestimated Zhang Quan.

This Zhang Quan had quite a few secrets hidden…

Behind the screen was another secret room.

From the beam he was perched on, Mo Hua’s view was limited; he could only glimpse a corner, unable to see the entire room.

But even from that corner, he could see lavish decorations, dim candlelight, various sinister arrangements, and a table draped with golden cloth.

Mo Hua shifted to another beam, hanging upside down to peer inside more clearly.

Now he could see better.

Indeed, there was an altar.

On the altar was a portrait.

From this distance, it wasn’t very clear. Mo Hua didn’t dare stare too long, just a quick glance before averting his eyes.

Offerings were placed on the table.

But these were no ordinary offerings.

Three plates: one with a hand bone, one with a foot bone, and one in the center with a skull.

Mo Hua didn’t know if they belonged to an innocent cultivator or to the Zhang family ancestor.

Candles were lit on the altar.

They were white candles, but the flames were an eerie green. The wax dripped like human tears, pooling beneath the table.

Mo Hua guessed this must be corpse oil.

Besides that, there were strange, oddly shaped instruments.

Being a non-corpse cultivator, Mo Hua couldn’t understand their purpose.

Beneath the altar lay a coffin.

It was snow-white.

Its material was neither wood nor stone, neither copper nor iron.

Mo Hua studied it for a long time before realizing it must be a bone coffin.

A flicker of surprise crossed his mind.

Could this bone coffin also be for corpse refinement?

But what kind of corpse could a bone coffin refine?

He had only heard of iron, copper, silver, and gold corpses—never a bone-only corpse…

What use could a zombie reduced to just bones possibly have?

Mo Hua’s thoughts churned.

At that moment, he saw Zhang Quan and the other corpse cultivators kneeling before the altar, chanting:

“Those who dare intrude, let the ancestor show might…”

“Lend me your divine awareness, consecrate the copper bell…”

“…The copper bell drinks the blood, leaving no trace of the corpse…”

“Offer white bones to honor the master, and human consciousness as the feast.”

“Zhang family ancestor above, disciple Zhang Quan bows!”

Mo Hua frowned.

Zhang family ancestor?

Then this portrait must be of the Zhang family’s forebear.

An ancestor and a master.

So the Zhang family must have possessed this corpse-refinement method since their forebears, opening a coffin workshop that passed down through generations.

As for “borrowing divine awareness to consecrate the copper bell with human consciousness as the feast”—

Mo Hua was puzzled.

Then Zhang Quan opened the bone coffin. With a pale hand, he grabbed the bandit who had brought the blood and threw him into the coffin.

The bandit struggled but was no match for Zhang Quan, who was at Foundation Establishment stage. He couldn’t escape, trapped alive inside.

The bandit cried and clawed at the coffin walls, producing pitiful sounds.

After a while, the noises ceased. Inside the bone coffin, all was silent.

Zhang Quan opened the coffin again. The bandit was dead, eyes wide with terror, but utterly still.

His hands were bloodied, fingernails torn off from clawing.

Otherwise, his body bore no marks.

He had died in a daze, as if his soul had been directly consumed.

Mo Hua’s heart jolted, then he understood.

“Borrow divine awareness to consecrate the copper bell”—

It must mean using the Zhang family ancestor’s divine awareness to consecrate the bell, enhancing its corpse-control power.

Among these corpse cultivators, Zhang Quan was a Foundation Establishment practitioner, naturally able to control iron corpses with ease.

The others, however, were merely late-stage Qi Refiners.

Having them control iron corpses approaching Foundation Establishment strength would be impossible.

Thus, they had to borrow divine awareness through the ritual, letting the Zhang ancestor’s consciousness attach to the copper bell to assist them.

“Using human consciousness as the feast”—

It meant using living human awareness to feed the Zhang family ancestor.

On the surface, the high altar was for offerings, the bones were the ritual tribute.

In reality, the bone coffin was the true altar, and living human consciousness was the offering.

“So this Zhang family ancestor portrait is actually a… visualization chart?”

Mo Hua’s mind shifted.

The bandit was used as the offering, his consciousness consumed, dying in panic.

Zhang Quan pulled the bandit’s body from the coffin, set it aside, and ordered:

“Take him later to feed the corpses.”

He then chanted more incantations, took a copper bell with blood-red markings from his storage bag—

The very corpse-control bell Mo Hua had been longing for!

Mo Hua’s eyes sparkled.

If he guessed correctly, the bell contained a top-grade twelve-pattern Spirit-Pivot formation.

He had to find a way to steal the bell!

And that visualization chart as well!

But how?

It would be difficult with Zhang Quan right there.

Mo Hua frowned, thinking.

Meanwhile, Zhang Quan continued consecrating the bell.

He placed three iron cups on the table, put the copper bell in one, and poured the blood into the cup.

The blood slowly soaked into the bell—

It was as if the bell were drinking the blood.

Mo Hua crouched on the beam, thinking frantically.

“Should I make a commotion outside to lure Zhang Quan out…”

“Or call Little Senior Brother and Little Senior Sister to snatch it directly?”

Before he could decide, there was a noise at the door, someone shouting anxiously:

“Master!”

Zhang Quan grew impatient.

The person outside shouted louder: “Master, something terrible has happened!”

Zhang Quan, still consecrating the bell, muttered curses and ordered a corpse cultivator beside him:

“Go check what happened.”

The cultivator obeyed, returning with a panicked expression:

“Master, it’s bad!”

Zhang Quan frowned. “What is it?”

Trembling, the cultivator said: “The formations… all of them are ruined!”

Zhang Quan’s eyes widened. “What the hell do you mean all ruined??”

“All… all of them, none usable…”

A surge of blood rushed through him, a stabbing pain in his chest.

He couldn’t believe it:

“How could not a single one be usable?”

“Seems… someone tampered with them…”

A chill ran through Zhang Quan’s heart.

He had thought the Corpse-Cult Village’s formations made it easy to defend, hard to attack, enough to repel enemies.

After consecrating the bell and awakening the iron corpses, he could go out and slaughter at will.

At worst, the formations could defend the village.

Yet he never expected that the formations he had painstakingly built were all destroyed.

Without the formations, the village’s outer defenses were gone.

Anyone could attack much more easily.

Impossible…

Suppressing his shock and anger, Zhang Quan said: “I’ll go see.”

But after a few steps, he frowned again.

The blood altar and bell ritual still required time to complete.

Someone had to watch the altar, but he didn’t trust anyone else to guard it.

Corpse cultivators were cold-hearted.

Not just him—all corpse cultivators were the same.

He couldn’t trust anyone in the village.

Zhang Quan scanned the room, looking at the corpse cultivators present.

Meeting his gaze, they all lowered their heads, avoiding eye contact.

Zhang Quan snorted coldly:

“You all come with me and see.”

One corpse cultivator’s eyes flickered. He whispered:

“Master, shouldn’t someone stay to watch the altar…”

Zhang Quan’s gaze turned icy. “You want to stay?”

The cultivator panicked: “I dare not.”

Zhang Quan smiled darkly. “You all go. I’ll close the door and seal the formation; not even a mosquito can get in. Don’t worry.”

“Yes.”

The cultivator bowed, disappointed.

The corpse cultivators then left the secret chamber with the bandit’s body.

Zhang Quan was the last to leave.

Before leaving, he sealed the screen.

After forming some hand seals and chanting, the ink painting shifted, returning to the desolate landscape.

Still uneasy, Zhang Quan checked several times before cautiously leaving, locking the main door behind him.

Mo Hua stayed on the beam, unmoving.

After a while, Zhang Quan returned, inspecting the room again. Seeing no sign of outsiders, he finally relaxed, locking the door again as his footsteps faded.

Mo Hua snorted in his heart:

“Little tricks like this? You can’t fool me.”

Every move Zhang Quan made was within his divine-sense perception.

Once sure Zhang Quan had gone far enough, Mo Hua lightly dropped from the beam.

The room was silent. The screen gave no hint of anything unusual.

It appeared to be an ordinary folding screen.

Mo Hua studied it and suddenly realized:

This screen was a top-grade spiritual artifact, with a very special refining method. No wonder it could hide from his perception.

It must be worth a lot of spirit stones…

“How did Zhang Quan get this?”

Mo Hua was curious.

Was it stolen, seized, gifted, or handed down from his ancestors?

But now wasn’t the time to ponder that.

He had to figure out how to open the screen, enter the altar room, and steal the copper bell.

Mo Hua remembered that before Zhang Quan opened the screen, he had formed hand seals and chanted incantations, making the ink dissolve to reveal the opening.

Mo Hua tried to imitate him, forming seals, stomping, mumbling a string of nonsense.

Even he didn’t know what he was chanting—it was pure luck.

But clearly, luck alone wouldn’t work here.

The screen didn’t budge.

Mo Hua scratched his head.

Something was wrong…

But he couldn’t ask Zhang Quan to demonstrate again.

Mo Hua frowned, thinking.

He recalled that Mister Zhuang had said, everything has a surface and a core.

Hand seals and incantations are the surface.

The essence lies in the inner spiritual energy flow.

So the screen must have an internal spiritual energy operation.

On a spiritual artifact, controlling spiritual energy flow is the function of the formation…

Mo Hua examined the screen again and finally noticed fine formation patterns at the corners and edges.

The patterns were tiny and subtle.

Worse, Mo Hua didn’t recognize them.

Even if he deduced the complete pattern with divine-sense, he wouldn’t know the exact formation type.

He could only make a rough guess based on formation knowledge.

The formation on the screen was likely related to sound and gestures.

Chanting is the sound; hand seals are the gestures.

Only if the chant and seals were correct, with the proper sounds and movements, would the formation activate.

But whether it used Five Elements principles or other rules, Mo Hua couldn’t tell.

“Formations are vast and profound. Looks like I still have a lot to learn…”

He took out paper and pen, recording the formation patterns to study later.