Chapter 477: Dao Name

Chapter 478: Dao Name

Inside the Ten-Thousand-Corpse Altar, blood patterns covered the ground, coffins lined up in thousands, candlelight dim, the space vast and deathly silent.

Not a single person was present.

Except Mo Hua.

After Mo Hua had his little zombie close the gate, the mural behind him twisted and sealed off the way he had come.

Mo Hua nodded.

This Spiritual-Pivot Formation truly lived up to its reputation as an Absolute Formation—far more practical than he had imagined.

He then began to examine the altar.

During the day, with Lu Chengyun and Zhang Quan around, Mo Hua hadn’t felt much.

But now, deep in the night, alone, the altar, though magnificent, felt far more sinister and eerie, not to mention the coffins and the zombies within them.

A slight tension rose in Mo Hua’s chest.

He calmed himself and began to follow his plan, tackling each task step by step.

First, he studied the Ten-Thousand-Corpse Formation.

Although the formation’s pivot points were designed by him, the pivot only connected to the Spiritual-Pivot, allowing spiritual energy to circulate.

Mo Hua didn’t know the full layout of the formation.

This Ten-Thousand-Corpse Formation represented Lu Chengyun’s years of effort.

During the day, he hadn’t dared inspect it closely, so as not to offend Lu Chengyun.

According to Mo Hua’s understanding of formations, this might not merely be a replica—it could be a full-fledged evil-path grand formation!

Mo Hua activated the Flowing-Water Step, attaching his spiritual energy to his feet, moving along the walls to the roof, hanging upside down to observe from above.

From this vantage, the entire formation was visible at a glance.

The formation used the pivot points as the heart, the Spiritual-Pivots as the skeleton, and the formation patterns as the flesh.

Everything connected in sequence, from start to finish.

Indeed, it was a complete, large-scale formation.

Mo Hua memorized the overall layout, then descended to inspect the formation patterns in detail.

On the surface, the patterns were evil runes.

But at their core, they were applications of the Five Elements—Earth, Wood, Water, etc.

Earth-based formations incorporated corpses;

Water-based formations blended in blood.

Wood-based formations used the juices of poisonous plants, harmonizing flesh and blood to form the runes of the evil formation.

Human flesh and blood naturally resonate with spiritual energy.

Thus, evil formations often used human blood as ink and human flesh as medium, enhancing the formation while reducing its difficulty.

Though the barrier to entry was lowered, the understanding of the great Dao within became shallower.

Mo Hua shook his head.

Such shortcuts and superficial methods would never allow one to ascend the Way of Formation.

Still, to fully understand the enemy, he examined all the runes from beginning to end.

After organizing them, he combined the Spiritual-Pivots with his own constructed pivots, making slight derivations to trace the flow of spiritual and evil energy within the formation.

A complete map of the Ten-Thousand-Corpse Formation appeared in Mo Hua’s Sea of Consciousness.

He recorded it on paper, then lowered his head to study, silently contemplating.

After a moment, he sighed:

“This really is the prototype of a grand formation…”

And not just a rudimentary one cobbled together for show.

It was a formation refined over generations, with complete runes, concise pivots, and a powerful central pivot clearly bearing marks of inheritance—a true evil-path grand formation.

“The Ten-Thousand-Corpse Evil-Path Grand Formation…”

Mo Hua frowned.

“Where did Lu Chengyun get the formation map from?”

“Could it be that the Lu family—or this corpse mine—harbors a practitioner skilled in demonic-path formations, descended from a proper demonic sect?”

But during his time in the corpse mine, he had never seen such a cultivator, nor found the slightest trace.

“Or perhaps it was a demonic-path prodigy who, by chance, gave it to Lu Chengyun?”

Demonic-path prodigy…

Mo Hua thought again of what Mister Zhuang had mentioned—the strange Daoist who must not be seen, spoken of, or even contemplated.

“Could it really be that coincidental…”

Mo Hua murmured.

If so…

That Daoist, who passed the Evil Pill recipe to the Qian family ancestor and the Ten-Thousand-Corpse Evil-Path Formation map to Lu Chengyun, likely passed other forbidden techniques to other unscrupulous cultivators elsewhere…

What is he scheming?

To create Dao-Sin?

Can such natural calamities truly be “mass-produced” by humans?

Or does this Daoist have even deeper plans?

Mo Hua frowned, deep in thought.

As he pondered, he became absorbed.

Suddenly, a freezing, terrifying chill surged into his heart.

A Daoist’s outline appeared faintly in his mind.

It resembled dark ink.

Black, withered lines formed his body.

Gradually, the lines solidified into shape.

The Daoist’s face grew clear; his eyes slowly opened, deep and hollow, gazing at Mo Hua piece by piece.

Mo Hua didn’t know who he was, yet in an instant, he knew the Daoist’s Dao name:

“The Strange Daoist!”

A half-ghost, half-eccentric seeker of the Dao.

Mo Hua was shocked and quickly calmed his mind, clearing all thoughts.

But the harder he tried not to think, the more he couldn’t help it.

Even the words “Strange Daoist” almost slipped from his lips.

He sensed that if he spoke the words aloud, the Daoist would immediately discover him.

“I can’t speak it, can’t speak it!”

Mo Hua kept warning himself.

Yet, as he forcefully suppressed his mind, his lips betrayed him, and he uttered the first character, “Strange”…

The Daoist’s hollow eyes suddenly gleamed with life and slowly turned, seemingly about to fix his gaze on Mo Hua.

Mo Hua’s heart sank. Quick-thinking, he pinched his own cheek.

His pale face bore two finger marks.

Pain shot through him, “Hiss!” he cried, and he finally stopped himself from speaking the full words “Strange Daoist.”

With the name unspoken, Mo Hua had a moment to breathe.

What to do?

A stroke of inspiration hit—he quickly took out spiritual ink, dipped his finger, and used his Divine-Sense to connect with the earth’s Dao essence, drawing an Earth-Stabilizing Array on the ground.

Once he began drawing the formation, his Divine-Sense focused, leaving no room for stray thoughts.

Nor would he even think to utter the name.

The earth’s Dao essence he connected with occupied his mind entirely.

A sense of ancient, simple intent spread, gradually masking the aura of the Strange Daoist…

…

Meanwhile, beneath a cliff overgrown with withered trees,

the seated “Sun Yi” opened his eyes.

His body was filthy, draped in a grimy Dao robe worn by corpses; his gaze black and hollow, his voice hoarse and sticky:

“Who…”

“…wants to speak my name?”

“So familiar…”

He closed his eyes to sense, then reopened them, the hollow gaze showing slight puzzlement:

“Earth Dao essence?”

“A disciple of the Earth Sect?”

“How could this be…”

In the Small Wasteland Prefecture, how could an Earth Sect disciple be here, let alone utter his name?

“No…”

Sun Yi raised his right hand, several fingers broken, twisted it into a strange shape, as if calculating some hidden formula.

Some causal threads connected:

“Earth Dao essence…”

“Earth-Stabilizing Array…”

“There’s a cultivator…”

“An array master…”

“Small in stature… no… very young?”

And the causal thread ended here.

Unclear.

Blood tears streamed from Sun Yi’s eyes, sparse hair whitening, the Sea of Consciousness trembling, his remaining Divine-Sense trying desperately to compute:

“If the Dao essence’s masking weren’t there, within three breaths, this person would surely speak my name…”

“Then remove the masking of the Dao essence…”

Blood gushed from Sun Yi’s eyes, his gray-white hair falling strand by strand, his appearance visibly aging, as if expending his life force to compensate for the depletion of his Divine-Sense.

He counted in his mouth:

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three…”

Three breaths passed, and indeed, someone, uncontrolled, spoke his name:

“Strange Daoist!”

The voice calling his name was crisp and pleasant.

Sun Yi was slightly stunned, surprised:

“A child?”

Why would a child speak his name?

Who could it be?

And what connection do they have with me?

He listened more closely, noticing the voice changing.

From a child’s voice, it gradually became clear and bright, then matured into a young man’s, then deepened into a middle-aged voice.

Finally, it became a voice he knew and cherished deeply.

Clear, refined, and gentle.

The three words (Gui Dao Ren) “Strange Daoist” became two:

“Senior Brother.”

Sun Yi opened his eyes, dazed, seeing a cultivator with elegant features and graceful bearing looking at him.

His gaze was clear and gentle, a faint, elusive smile on his lips.

It was Mister Zhuang.

A moment later, everything dissipated like smoke.

Sun Yi could no longer recall who had spoken his name.

Only that one “Senior Brother.”

He tried to compute again, but found the Sea of Consciousness in this body cracked, Divine-Sense exhausted, hair completely gone…

There was nothing more to calculate…

Sun Yi sat in decay for a long while, expression strange, murmuring:

“My good junior brother… what exactly are you hiding?”

“To fall so low… what’s left worth hiding?”

The forest was silent; no answer came.

“Forget it…”

Sun Yi shakily rose, draped in the corpse Dao robe, steps uneven, moving toward the forest’s edge…

“When I find you, I’ll know everything…”