Chapter 446: Stolen

Chapter 447: Stolen

The next question was, how to break through this screen?

Mo Hua pondered silently.

Generally, a screen is a spiritual artifact, and spiritual artifacts have formations.

If he could dismantle the formation, he could neutralize the artifact and render the screen useless.

But Mo Hua didn’t know what kind of formation was drawn on this screen, nor the controlling runes, so naturally, he couldn’t resolve the formation.

If it couldn’t be resolved, then why not just destroy it?

Use a Reverse-Spirit Formation to break the formation’s structure, disable the array core, and let the formation self-destruct?

Mo Hua considered.

At this point, there was no need to worry about being discovered. Whether the screen remained intact didn’t matter; a rough approach was fine.

Once the formation self-destructed, the screen would be ruined.

The hole on the screen might open.

Or it might seal the secret chamber completely, letting no one in.

The best-case scenario was destroying the formation: without the formation’s blessing, the screen would fail, and the chamber would open.

Then he could slip inside and take everything.

The worst-case scenario was the screen self-destructing, and no one could enter.

He couldn’t get in, and Zhang Quan couldn’t either.

In that case, the Corpse-Controlling Bell and the visualization diagram would remain sealed inside.

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t enter.

But if Zhang Quan couldn’t enter, he’d lose the Corpse-Controlling Bell; without it, he couldn’t control the iron corpse, and his strength would be greatly diminished.

Without the iron corpse, the Walking Corpse Stronghold would lose its Foundation Establishment combat force and become easy to defeat.

No matter how he looked at it, it wouldn’t harm him.

Mo Hua no longer hesitated and began attacking the formation on the screen.

He drew the first Reverse-Spirit Formation; the formation on the screen flashed blue, spiritual energy began to scramble, and a harsh noise sounded. The formation failed, and the screen dimmed slightly.

Mo Hua’s eyes brightened, and he continued drawing Reverse-Spirit Formations.

Each formation he drew destroyed one on the screen.

The ink on the screen gradually faded.

When Mo Hua destroyed all the formations, the entire screen’s ink was gone, leaving only a gray haze.

Mo Hua frowned.

Was this resolved, or just destroyed?

He scanned with Divine Sense and saw the screen had indeed failed; the barrier at the door was gone.

Only the obscuring ink remained.

Mo Hua simply took out the Thousand-Catty Rod and hammered at the screen indiscriminately.

He beat the old screen into tatters.

The screen creaked as if wailing, then completely dissolved, the ink image vanished, revealing the secret chamber and the altar inside.

Mo Hua exhaled in relief, delighted, and stepped in.

The air inside the secret chamber was even more oppressive.

On the golden silk-covered altar, green flickering candlelight danced.

The blood bell, white bones, and coffins were all there.

And on the altar, incense burned before the Zhang family Patriarch statue.

Mo Hua lowered his gaze, ignoring the statue, and deftly took the copper bells from the iron cups, refined with blood, one by one, tossing them into his storage pouch.

He then searched the chamber thoroughly.

Spirit stones, offerings, spiritual artifacts—anything valuable, marked with formations, or with some provenance, anything strange he couldn’t understand—Mo Hua swept them all into his pouch.

Finally, he approached the Patriarch statue.

Squinting, he tried not to look directly at it, intending to carefully remove the painting and toss it into his pouch.

But as his fingers touched it,

a cold divine consciousness suddenly surged into Mo Hua’s Sea of Consciousness.

An old yet clear voice whispered:

“Boy… your bones are extraordinary…”

“Your talent is rare…”

“I bestow upon you this opportunity… to help you ascend…”

“Look this way…”

“You…”

The voice, seeming both real and illusory, tried to lure Mo Hua into looking at the painting.

At the same time, something in the painting seemed to change; the skin began to decay, as if breaking free from the canvas.

Mo Hua sensed his divine sense faltering, quickly entered meditation, and in an instant cleared all distractions, his mind sharp.

Coming back to himself, Mo Hua waved his left hand, overturning the altar.

He then grabbed the Zhang family Patriarch statue and tore it to the ground.

He smashed a pile of items—incense burner, iron cups, candle holders—onto it, and even stomped twice on the painting.

The statue immediately behaved.

Mo Hua snorted coldly in his heart.

“Still trying to trick me?”

“The same trick won’t work twice!”

Seeing the painting remain still, Mo Hua folded it carelessly, crumpled it, and stuffed it into his storage pouch.

In just a few breaths, he had obtained the Corpse-Controlling Bell and the painting.

His storage pouch was now full.

No time to waste—get out quickly!

Without hesitation, Mo Hua leapt from the altar, climbed the beam, dismantled the formation, and easily escaped Zhang Quan’s secret chamber.

At that moment, Zhang Quan remained completely unaware.

He stood on the outer wall of the Walking Corpse Stronghold, staring at the formation in disbelief.

The formations were truly all destroyed!

Some had failed, some were ruined, some had short-circuited and self-exploded upon activation.

Why? Why did they fail?

A few days ago, he had inspected them all—they were fine.

Yet in less than two days, the entire Walking Corpse Stronghold’s formations were ruined, as if the outer layer had been peeled away.

Who destroyed them?

Who had the power to ruin every formation in the stronghold in such a short time?

A formation master?

But in Nanyue City, which formation master could have such skill?

Zhang Quan was both terrified and furious. He shouted:

“Go fetch Instructor Yan!”

A corpse cultivator hesitated:

“Instructor Yan… he can’t come…”

Zhang Quan glared and said coldly, “Where is he?”

“Instructor Yan’s room… it’s sealed… we… can’t open it…” the corpse cultivator stammered.

Zhang Quan’s gaze turned icy. “Take me there.”

Soon, Zhang Quan arrived at Instructor Yan’s room.

The room was mottled, showing signs of being struck, but the door remained tightly closed.

It seemed someone had reinforced the formation inside, making the walls impenetrable.

Zhang Quan’s eyes darkened.

Who had set up this formation?

A mere first-grade formation, and it was this solid?

Zhang Quan poured all his effort into his spiritual energy, the force of his palm strong yet flowing. It took half a tea-time before he finally broke the door.

Inside, there was no one.

Not only that, everything had been cleaned up.

This Instructor Yan had actually escaped?

“Formation masters are never any good!”

Zhang Quan ground his teeth, feeling chaotic inside.

How had Instructor Yan escaped?

Did he leave on his own, or was he rescued?

If rescued, by whom, and how?

Had Instructor Yan tampered with the stronghold’s formations?

Was he working with outsiders, intending to destroy the stronghold?

Was he now fleeing out of fear of punishment?

Or was someone acting secretly…

Zhang Quan froze.

Secretly…

Concealment technique?

To sneak into the Walking Corpse Stronghold, unnoticed by a Foundation Establishment divine sense, only one person could do that—

That little brat with the concealment technique?!

Zhang Quan frowned, but then realized something was off.

The stronghold had a Dust-Revealing Formation. That little brat shouldn’t have been able to enter…

“No,” Zhang Quan shook his head, mind racing:

“Instructor Yan has ill intentions. The Dust-Revealing Formation he set must have a flaw. It definitely couldn’t stop that little brat!”

It was even possible they were working together!

Zhang Quan’s anger surged, and his heart skipped a beat.

Concealment… concealment…

His face changed. “The altar!”

Zhang Quan remembered: if Mo Hua had truly infiltrated, he would have seen everything—including the bell ceremony just now!

Zhang Quan pushed his body to the limit and, in moments, returned to his room.

The door lock was intact, the formation untouched.

Zhang Quan exhaled, but upon unlocking the door and stepping in, he saw the screen, beaten to tatters.

His legs weakened, almost unable to stand.

It was over!

He stumbled into the chamber, and what he saw made his scalp tingle.

The chamber was a mess.

The altar was overturned, incense ashes scattered.

Candles extinguished, iron cups toppled.

Zhang Quan shook violently, looking on the ground, but no matter how he searched, he couldn’t find them.

The copper bells for the ritual were gone…

He looked up again.

The Patriarch statue was gone too…

Zhang Quan’s fury surged, his blood pressure rising, and he roared:

“My Corpse-Controlling Bell?”

“My ancestor?!!”