Chapter 456: Eating More
Chapter 457: Eating More
Mo Hua destroyed the zombie disciple and “consumed” its evil intent, then began meditating to refine it.
Within the evil intent were fragments of memories.
All of them involved corpse refinement, nurturing, and control.
The Zhang family had always dealt in such secretive matters—openly selling coffins while secretly refining corpses.
This disciple was no different.
He was also an ancestor of Zhang Quan.
But his talent was average, only at the Qi-refining stage, and having had little exposure to zombies, the corpse poison penetrated his mind, turning him into a walking corpse.
The Zhang family feared exposure, so they killed him and sealed his spiritual consciousness within the Patriarch Diagram.
Just like many other ancestors of the Zhang family.
When alive, he became a zombie; when dead, he remained a zombie. Thus, the evil intent that manifested after death was still that of a zombie.
The Zhang clan itself was composed of beings half-human, half-corpse.
As Mo Hua refined its evil intent, a cold, decayed, and rotting desire also polluted his consciousness.
A bloodthirsty craving arose in his heart.
It was as if he had become a zombie himself, yearning for flesh and blood, desiring to devour.
The evil intent entered his mind, and Mo Hua immediately entered a meditative state, calming himself and discarding distractions.
He was not panicked.
As Mister Zhuang had said, every time evil intent enters the mind, it tests the cultivator’s Dao-heart.
Whether one can maintain original intent and steadfastness amidst material temptations and evil desires is critical for a cultivator.
Once the Dao-heart falters, the original intent fades, and one easily strays, going against the Heavenly Dao.
Humans are not born impervious to all evil.
The Dao-heart must be cultivated, little by little.
Mo Hua intended to start with minor evil intents, refining his will and gradually enlightening his mind.
Bit by bit, strengthening his Dao-heart.
Until in the future, he would be impervious to all evil.
Even if evil gods enter his mind or heavenly demons disturb his heart, his mind would remain as a clear mirror, unstained.
The zombie disciple was soon fully refined by Mo Hua.
Its faint evil intent was also purged.
Mo Hua’s consciousness noticeably expanded.
This was the most significant growth in his consciousness over the past few months.
Yet, it was still insufficient.
Mo Hua clicked his tongue, feeling somewhat unsatisfied.
The zombie disciple was only at the Qi-refining stage, its spiritual consciousness not strong; refining its evil intent yielded only a small gain.
This increment in consciousness was barely enough to fill a crack between teeth.
Feeling a little regret, Mo Hua opened his eyes.
Bai Zisheng was staring at him intently. Seeing him open his eyes, he immediately asked, “How’s it going?”
Mo Hua said, “It’s fine.”
Bai Zisheng sighed in relief and asked, “And next?”
Mo Hua thought for a moment and said, “I’ll take another look. You’ll still do as you said before…”
“Mm-hmm.” Bai Zisheng nodded. “Knock you out, call Master, burn the painting, scatter the ashes…”
Though slightly different from Mo Hua’s instructions, it was close enough.
Mo Hua carefully opened the visualization of the diagram—publicly called the “Patriarch Diagram,” but in truth, the “Zombie Diagram.”
He glanced again.
The same figures on the diagram turned to look at him.
Revealed was still a zombie face.
Similarly, zombies leapt from the painting into Mo Hua’s consciousness.
This time he let two zombies in, then closed the diagram.
These two zombies were still at the Qi-refining stage, considered disciples by human standards, walking corpses by zombie standards.
Once in Mo Hua’s consciousness, the two zombies exchanged a glance, faces filled with ecstatic delight.
This consciousness was vast.
Its spiritual reserves were abundant.
Enough to feed them for a long time.
Possibly even enough to advance them to Foundation Establishment!
Who would have expected that this young little cultivator’s consciousness was a banquet hall?
But their joy was short-lived.
A fireball spell shot forth, exploding instantly.
It directly blasted one zombie corpse, the crimson flames engulfing it, burning its entire body as it writhed in pain on the ground.
The other zombie froze.
What was that just now? A fireball spell?
How could there be a fireball inside this consciousness?
Soon it understood.
Not far away, a young cultivator with delicate features and deep, emotionless eyes pointed at it.
Before the zombie could react, a fireball condensed at his fingertips.
The fireball was fast, precise, and brutal.
In an instant, it flew straight at the zombie.
Its dead-white eyes were engulfed in red light, and then its entire body was blasted by the fireball, falling to the ground, suffering the pain of being burned alive.
The pain was excruciatingly real.
The zombie nearly forgot it was already dead, no longer possessing flesh.
Fear surged in its heart.
Who exactly was this young cultivator?
Mo Hua, however, wasted no words.
Time was limited; he had to finish quickly.
This Qi-refining zombie could not probe the secrets of the Zhang family ancestors.
Mo Hua acted simply and brutally, blasting the two zombies with fireball spells.
After the kills, he refined their evil intent, enhancing his consciousness.
He repeated the method: open the diagram, release zombies, blast with fireballs, refine evil intent.
Though Qi-refining evil intent was weak, little by little, consuming a few zombies noticeably strengthened Mo Hua’s consciousness.
Yet it was still not enough.
This time, he aimed at several of the Zhang family’s front-row ancestors.
Those seated in the front rows were recognized names among Zhang ancestors, at least elder-level.
Their evil intent should be stronger.
But how to draw them into his consciousness?
Mo Hua pondered, eyes glinting.
He took out two pieces of paper, one to cover the Zhang family elders, the other to cover the junior disciples.
Leaving only the middle row, appearing as elder-level Zhang cultivators.
He randomly picked one and stared directly at him.
Within moments, the figure turned to look at Mo Hua.
Again, a zombie face.
Hooked nose, upturned eyes, grim expression, iron-blue complexion.
A steel corpse!
Seeing Mo Hua, its expression turned vicious; then a flash of greed lit its gray-white eyes, and it leapt into Mo Hua’s consciousness.
Inside Mo Hua’s mind, the steel corpse froze.
Even as an elder who had seen much, it was stunned by the scale of his consciousness.
Then it burst into hoarse laughter.
Its voice was raspy, throat broken, harsh and grating.
Hidden nearby, Mo Hua nodded.
It seemed the Iron Corpse Elder couldn’t detect his concealment…
Mo Hua crept up behind the steel corpse, raising his thousand-pound rod, and struck its head.
The rod hit the back of the steel corpse’s skull.
Mo Hua even heard a “clang.”
The sound of iron clashing.
His palm tingled slightly from the impact.
The steel corpse staggered, face twisted in pain and confusion, then turned to see Mo Hua, eyes widening further.
After a moment, its gaze grew greedier.
Looking at Mo Hua as if he were a thousand-year ginseng.
Mo Hua felt a tinge of regret.
It seemed the steel corpse’s strength was formidable.
A blunt strike caused little damage.
Unlike ordinary zombies, whose forms would scatter under a strike, this elder’s body was solid.
It staggered slightly from the blow, pained but unharmed.
The two faced off, neither attacking recklessly.
The Iron Corpse Elder couldn’t gauge Mo Hua’s power. Though it coveted him, it was cautious.
It scrutinized Mo Hua, then scanned its surroundings, suddenly realizing, hoarse, “So that’s why several disciples entered your consciousness and couldn’t escape—they fell into your trap!”
His spiritual presence was fully manifested, consciousness deep.
Even this Iron Corpse Elder was no match.
Those few Zhang disciples at the walking corpse stage stood no chance.
Their deaths at his hands were inevitable.
Mo Hua remained indifferent.
The Iron Corpse Elder’s expression hardened. “You killed my Zhang disciples—what sin is this?”
Mo Hua thought:
“I won’t just kill your disciples, I’ll kill your elders too…”
But outwardly, he remained casual:
“They tried to eat me; I killed them—it’s their own fault.”
The Iron Corpse Elder sneered, “They only wanted a few bites of your consciousness, yet you killed them. Such a young age, yet such cruelty.”
Mo Hua was stunned. “Are you a zombie too? Has your brain rotted? How can you say such things?”
The steel corpse snorted.
It calculated Mo Hua’s strength.
This kid’s manifested consciousness was innate talent.
But spiritual confrontations weren’t that simple.
Even with some talent, how could he compare to centuries of Zhang family corpse techniques?
Perhaps he could pick off a minor disciple or two.
But now that he had entered, this kid was a feast for the entire Zhang clan!
The Iron Corpse Elder licked its lips, eyes on the young, tender Mo Hua.
Mo Hua understood its intent, coldly thinking:
“Who’s whose feast? Not so fast.”
The Iron Corpse Elder could no longer restrain itself.
It opened its jaws, revealing sharp teeth, tainted with rotting corpse poison, body turning into a streak of blue light as it lunged at Mo Hua.
Though its attack seemed fast, every move had already been seen through by Mo Hua.
He executed the Flowing-Water Step, calmly dodging the steel corpse’s strike.
The elder struck repeatedly, claws extended, attacking from different angles, but Mo Hua evaded each one.
He even stepped on the steel corpse’s head before retreating.
The Iron Corpse Elder was furious.
How dare this kid humiliate it?
It lunged again, only to find Mo Hua at a distance, finger raised, fire suddenly appearing.
A fireball roared forth.
The steel corpse’s pupils shrank; it barely managed to cross its arms to block.
The fireball exploded before it.
Its sleeves burned away, revealing iron-blue, corpse-like arms.
The arms charred, tongues of flame licking the skin.
It gasped.
A fireball spell? How could this be?
How could consciousness form into a spell?
It realized something was wrong…
This kid’s success wasn’t luck or innate talent alone.
He must have inherited spiritual techniques!
Manifesting spells within consciousness.
This method was extraordinarily clever. Even after parasitizing the diagram and consuming many cultivators’ consciousnesses, it had never been seen or even heard of before.
Even the ancestors likely didn’t know this method.
Fear gripped the Iron Corpse Elder.
“I need a careful plan…”
Fighting this kid one-on-one was unwise.
It needed the entire Zhang family’s force to kill him, then divide his consciousness.
If possible, seize his inheritance too!
The Zhang family’s power would grow immensely.
Having decided, the Iron Corpse Elder sought retreat.
Mo Hua instantly perceived its intention.
Since it wanted to flee, he would be ruthless.
He trapped the steel corpse with the Water Prison Technique, then unleashed fireball after fireball, engulfing it in flames.
Moments later, the fire died down, smoke everywhere.
The Iron Corpse Elder roared, stepping from the smoke.
Eyes red, massive body, iron-blue to black skin, clearly fully zombified, its strength increased.
“You brat, you’ve angered me!”
The Iron Corpse Elder roared in fury.
For Mo Hua, it made little difference.
He again restrained it with the Water Prison Technique, blasting with fireballs.
The elder’s strength was useless, forced to endure Mo Hua’s suppression. It sensed danger, forcing itself forward through the explosions.
But looking up, Mo Hua was gone.
He had used the Flowing-Water Step to retreat, creating distance, restraining it again, blasting it with fireballs…
Flames filled the air. The Iron Corpse Elder grimaced, body battered, heart racing.
After so many years, eating countless cultivators, it was completely outmatched by this young cultivator?
Suppressed by his spells with no way to fight back?
Reduced to a punching bag, suspended and beaten?
The Iron Corpse Elder could not believe it.
Mo Hua frowned.
It seemed… impossible to kill.
The steel corpse’s skin had hardened further.
Fireballs could suppress and defeat, but not kill easily.
If this dragged on, his consciousness might deplete, weakening his spells, giving it a chance to escape.
Mo Hua’s gaze chilled. “Find a way to finish it.”
The Iron Corpse Elder understood.
Outmatched by Mo Hua, it could only endure the fireballs, minimizing damage, waiting for his energy to deplete to escape—or counterattack.
Suppressing with spells like this consumes no small amount of Divine-Sense.
This little brat won’t last long…
Sure enough, after a short while, the Fireball Technique stopped.
Iron-Corpse Elder was ecstatic, but as he looked up, he saw Mo Hua closing his eyes in concentration, seemingly doing something unknown.
Iron-Corpse Elder froze.
What’s this brat up to?
Daydreaming? Or giving up?
Or perhaps something’s gone wrong with his Divine-Sense?
Should I run first, or pounce and kill him directly?
He hesitated for a moment, then suddenly sensed something amiss.
The aura around him seemed to have changed.
Iron-Corpse Elder suddenly looked down and saw that, without him noticing, countless faint blue wisps of spiritual energy had appeared on the ground. These threads twisted and turned, circulating on their own, forming intricate patterns.
His eyes widened.
What is this now?
Sensing danger, he tried to flee—but it was already too late.
Mo Hua had finished drawing the first formation.
It was a Golden-Lock Formation.
The pale blue spiritual energy on the ground condensed into golden chains, locking Iron-Corpse Elder in place.
He struggled several times, but could not break free.
After a short while, the second formation was completed.
It was a Melting-Fire Formation.
The moment the array appeared, the pale blue energy flared into a dazzling red, the ground transforming into a sea of fire, like a blazing furnace, trapping Iron-Corpse Elder and roasting him alive.
Fear gripped him.
A formation?
This little brat is a Formation Master?
But is this how a Formation Master draws formations?
No brush, no ink—just Divine-Sense, and he can condense formations this fast?
Formations follow the Way of Heaven, and the Divine-Sense bears the brunt of their power.
And yet this formation is so realistic and powerful.
Iron-Corpse Elder trembled inwardly.
“This is it… I’ve gone and stepped in the gutter.”
He was just hungry, trying to grab a bite, and now he’s being roasted by some brat from who-knows-where?
The cultivation world really is perilous!
Even a little brat can be so dangerous.
Facing death, Iron-Corpse Elder tried to muster all his strength for one last struggle.
For a moment, he broke free from the Golden-Lock Formation, but Mo Hua’s Water Prison Technique pinned him down again. Moments later, the Golden-Lock Formation restored itself, locking him tightly once more.
Meanwhile, the Melting-Fire Formation constantly burned his body.
Like a dull knife cutting flesh—it might take time, but eventually, it would finish.
Despair filled Iron-Corpse Elder’s heart.
Mo Hua, on the side, examined him curiously:
“Your method of corpse transformation… was it passed down by your ancestor?”
Iron-Corpse Elder gritted his teeth:
“So what if it was?”
“Do you have any other techniques?” Mo Hua asked.
Iron-Corpse Elder, furious, remained silent.
“You have no other techniques, so today you’re going to die here,” Mo Hua “kindly” warned.
Iron-Corpse Elder was too angry to respond.
Mo Hua stroked his chin thoughtfully.
It seemed Iron-Corpse Elder was truly out of tricks.
Mo Hua felt a tinge of pity, mixed with disappointment:
“Your ancestor really only taught you this?”
Iron-Corpse Elder sneered coldly: “Of course not! My ancestor had countless techniques, not something you little—”
He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, then was struck with a shock.
This little brat… is baiting me with my own words?
What does he want?
What is he trying to find out?
Ancestor…
He wants to figure out my ancestor’s techniques? Could it be… he’s scheming against my ancestor?
Fear gripped Iron-Corpse Elder’s heart.
No, impossible.
How could a little brat possibly—
He paused, then his face went pale.
No, it’s possible!
With the incredible abilities this brat showed in his Divine-Sense, he could really threaten my ancestor!
If he succeeds and uncovers my ancestor’s techniques… my ancestor… my ancestor…
Ancestor, you’re in danger!
Iron-Corpse Elder shuddered.
Mo Hua, seeing that his thoughts had been read, couldn’t help but sigh:
“Being a fool has its advantages.”
If you understand everything, I have no choice but to kill you.
Although Mo Hua had never intended to let him live.
Mo Hua stopped wasting words and focused on the formations, refining Iron-Corpse Elder’s terrified consciousness, then devoured it whole.
The Divine-Sense of the Iron-Corpse strengthened significantly.
After swallowing, Mo Hua couldn’t refine it completely yet—it would take a few days of meditation to fully process.
Some residual evil thoughts occasionally surfaced from his mind.
Mo Hua could only meditate quietly to gradually suppress them.
Exiting the Divine-Sense, he opened his eyes and glanced at the Zhang Family Ancestor Diagram.
There were still many zombies in the diagram, a few Iron-Corpses, and even Zhang Quan’s ancestor.
One by one…
None will escape!
He wondered if, after devouring them all at once, his Divine-Sense would leap straight to the thirteenth pattern…
Mo Hua couldn’t help but think about it.
Seeing this, Bai Zisheng asked, “You… okay?”
Mo Hua snapped back, shaking his head: “I’m fine.”
Bai Zisheng frowned: “Something’s not right…”
Bai Zixi, her eyes like water, stared at Mo Hua a while, puzzled:
“Why does your face… look a bit mischievous?”
Mo Hua rubbed his cheek: “I ate something bad, need time to digest.”