Chapter 627: Forbidden Technique

Chapter 629: Forbidden Technique

“Yi?”

Mo Hua froze. He recalled the note in the Water Prison Technique manual: “…this technique was compiled into a volume by Real Person Yi and included in the Great Void Sect…”

“The Water Prison Technique in the Merit Register—was it you, Elder, who recorded it?”

Elder Yi was stunned. “You even learned the Water Prison Technique?”

“Mm.” Mo Hua nodded.

Elder Yi looked a bit surprised.

The Water Prison Technique was easy to learn, hard to master, and even harder to use…

But he still shook his head. “Not me. It was a senior from our Yi family who recorded it…”

“A senior?”

“Mm.” Elder Yi nodded. “Our Yi family is a lineage of spell-cultivators. Most elders and disciples are spiritual cultivators proficient in spells, and we enjoy collecting all sorts of strange and peculiar techniques…”

“Oh…”

Mo Hua nodded.

Elder Yi glanced at the sky. “Alright, I’ll be off. If you have questions about spells, you may ask me again.”

“Thank you, Elder Yi!”

Hearing that “Elder Yi,” Elder Yi finally felt at ease. He turned to leave, but then suddenly remembered something and looked a bit embarrassed:

“Mo Hua…”

“Your injury this time… I was indeed a bit negligent. But, well… about Venerable Elder Xun…”

Mo Hua understood immediately.

“Elder Yi, don’t worry. I’ll explain it clearly to the Elder. This time I slipped up—it’s not your fault!”

It really hadn’t been Elder Yi’s fault.

And Elder Yi had even told him such an important spell principle—he definitely couldn’t let the elder take the blame.

Seeing Mo Hua so smart and considerate, Elder Yi felt comforted. He also didn’t mind that Mo Hua had studied spells with him for so long but still didn’t know his surname.

“Alright, take good care of yourself.”

Elder Yi walked away, relaxed.

“Take care, Elder.”

After Elder Yi left, Mo Hua, his left hand wrapped in bandages, lay on the bed, pondering:

Twin Fireball Technique… Divine-Sense-guided collision… spell structure collapse… the mutating force of spiritual power fusion…

This “disintegration-style” spell method had tremendous power—but it was unstable and easily spiraled out of control.

If he experimented on his own, once it went out of control, he could easily get hurt. A huge risk.

This time he’d been lucky. Though the spell ran wild, he’d relied on his Divine-Sense to forcibly restrain the rampaging spiritual power, avoiding direct impact…

Plus, in the Great Void Sect, many skilled alchemy elders had treated him. His injury wasn’t too serious, and with rest, he’d have no lasting problems.

But if it happened again… that was another matter.

He was a “fragile little thing”…

Forcing Fireballs to collide, collapsing the spell structure, spiritual power fusing from within—its destructive force resembled an array collapsing, following certain transformations of the grand Dao’s laws. The lethality was terrifying.

If he slipped again, he might very well lose his life on the spot…

But if he didn’t research this…

Mo Hua felt unwilling.

As a spiritual cultivator, fast spell-casting and precise targeting were huge advantages.

But if the spell itself lacked power—hitting an opponent would feel like a tickle—that advantage would shrink drastically.

Great power that never hits means nothing.

Perfect accuracy with weak force also leads nowhere…

Back in the Second-Grade Prefecture, most opponents were loose cultivators or small-family disciples with meager inheritances.

With his strong Divine-Sense, his unique Fireball Technique was powerful enough.

But in the Qianxue Prefecture, powerful clans and sects were everywhere, with countless genius disciples possessing high-grade spiritual roots.

Even the criminals hunted by the Dao Court Division often had solid foundations and far better spiritual roots than him.

Some disciples even carried top-tier Dao teachings.

Regular Fireball Techniques simply weren’t enough anymore.

This fusion-style Fireball had to be studied further…

Thinking of Elder Yi’s “guidance,” Mo Hua organized the spell’s damage principle in his mind:

Typical spell theory: spiritual power flows outward, forming a spell structure, which then becomes a completed spell.

The spell’s power depends on the strength of the spiritual power.

The classic example: upper-grade spells that consume immense spiritual power, have strong structures, and unleash overwhelming force.

But his spiritual power was weak—he couldn’t use upper-grade spells. So he had to go the opposite direction.

Use spell variations to reverse the spell’s structure, triggering internal spiritual-power mutation, thus unleashing massive destructive force.

The spell itself was merely the trigger.

The fuse.

Use the spell to incite a change in spiritual power, akin to an array undergoing reversal and collapsing.

Thus, with minimal spiritual power, he could unleash tremendous damage.

This required the Heavenly Secret Deceptive Algorithm, splitting Divine-Consciousness, and executing dual-spell casting.

It also required strong Divine-Sense to manipulate the spell at high speed—burning through Divine-Sense rapidly.

But Mo Hua had strong Divine-Sense and weak spiritual power.

This reverse-spell approach perfectly amplified his strengths and avoided his weaknesses…

Mo Hua nodded to himself, determined to fully master this fusion-style Fireball Technique.

He already understood the principle.

The current Fireball Technique had only one problem…

It wasn’t stable.

Spell structure collapse, spiritual-power fusion—both were easy to lose control of. He might not hurt the enemy and instead blow himself up.

“I need to find a stable, controllable way to induce spell-structure collapse and Fireball fusion…”

Mo Hua murmured internally.

…

The next day, Mo Hua went to class.

His injuries had already been mostly healed by the alchemy elders personally appointed by Venerable Elder Xun. He only needed some rest.

He could attend class.

But he couldn’t use spiritual power or draw arrays.

Perfect time for him to research “Fireball Fusion.”

Whenever he had spare time outside cultivation class, he pondered how to stabilize Fireball collision, spell collapse, and spiritual-power fusion.

Even if the damage dropped a little, stability was key.

But after several days, progress was extremely slow.

Mo Hua couldn’t think of any method that could make a spell structure collapse in a stable, controllable way, nor a method to direct fused spiritual power.

Only now did Mo Hua realize—he had been a bit arrogant.

This kind of unconventional, reverse-thinking spell structure wasn’t something that could be created with a single flash of insight—let alone perfected and stabilized.

Even an ordinary, seemingly insignificant spell had gone through generations of cultivators practicing, experimenting, summarizing, and refining it to reach completion.

And he, on his own, had limited spell mastery.

Time was also limited. Trying to invent a new spell from scratch was indeed somewhat delusional.

Mo Hua sighed, but he wasn’t discouraged.

Since studying alone behind closed doors wasn’t effective, he decided to study other fire-type spells and see what elements of their spell structures he could borrow…

Standing on the shoulders of predecessors to improve his own spell.

Mo Hua nodded, feeling this approach was feasible.

He didn’t think that only he could discover the idea of “fireball fusion.”

There were so many geniuses in the cultivation world; some of these problems had surely already been thought through and summarized.

In the Dao Court’s two-thousand-year history, countless spell masters must have conducted mature research. There might even be existing spells he could “borrow” from.

However, this kind of abnormal spell was obviously difficult and dangerous.

So few cultivators learned it, and the surviving spells were probably rare.

“Borrow one…”

The first person Mo Hua thought of was Elder Yi.

The principles behind this were originally explained to him by Elder Yi.

The Yi family was a spellcraft lineage; even if they didn’t specialize in this kind of spell, they must have studied it.

So, bandaging his arm, Mo Hua went to find Elder Yi.

Elder Yi immediately shook his head, “No, no, no…”

Mo Hua had already injured his hands tinkering around, earning several days of glare from Elder Xun.

If he taught Mo Hua anything, and Mo Hua practiced it until he blew up his arms and legs… Elder Xun would probably confiscate all his sect stipend.

At the thought, Elder Yi added, “No, no…”

Mo Hua wasn’t surprised and curiously asked,

“Because it’s too dangerous?”

“Dangerous isn’t even the word…”

Mo Hua blinked. “How dangerous?”

“Well…” Elder Yi was about to explain, then froze, glancing at Mo Hua alertly. “You’re not trying to trick me into revealing something, are you?”

Mo Hua smiled sheepishly. “Elder, I wouldn’t. I’m just a kid with hardly any wits—how could I trap your words?”

Elder Yi looked at him silently, clearly believing none of it.

“I’m just a little curious…” Mo Hua said.

“Curiosity doesn’t justify it.”

“Alright then…”

Mo Hua sighed, feeling a bit disappointed.

Seeing Mo Hua’s crestfallen expression, Elder Yi felt slightly guilty.

After thinking for a moment, he finally grit his teeth and said,

“I’ll tell you just a little, but only listen. Don’t experiment on your own, and don’t harm yourself…”

“Mm-hmm.” Mo Hua nodded. “I won’t ‘recklessly’ practice.”

Only then did Elder Yi relax slightly, nodding.

“This kind of spell involves ‘spiritual mutation,’ so it’s extremely dangerous…”

“Powerful, prone to losing control, can harm others and yourself, and practicing it can easily cause irreversible damage to your meridians or qi sea.”

“That’s why these spells are usually classified as ‘Forbidden Techniques.’ Their transmission is either cut off, sealed, or destroyed.”

“Forbidden Techniques?!” Mo Hua exclaimed. “Practicing them is prohibited?”

“Yes.” Elder Yi nodded.

Mo Hua felt a bit guilty, whispering, “If I practiced it, would the Dao Court come, arrest me, and throw me in Dao Prison?”

Elder Yi sighed. “Not quite…”

“Although called ‘Forbidden Techniques,’ there are many categories…”

“Life-harming, demonic, corpse, or ghostly arts—these are forbidden because they kill indiscriminately and are extremely dangerous.”

“‘Spiritual mutation’ spells are forbidden because their power is uncontrollable.”

“As long as you don’t go on a rampage or kill innocents, and only practice secretly, the worst that can happen is losing control and hurting yourself—like when you blew up your arms. The Dao Court wouldn’t bother with that…”

After saying this, Elder Yi immediately cautioned,

“I’m not telling you to secretly practice!”

“Don’t practice it!”

“Mm-hmm.” Mo Hua nodded. “Please continue…”

Elder Yi nodded slightly and continued,

“But still, since these are Forbidden Techniques, all of them carry serious aftereffects.”

“Meridians can burn, mana can backflow, yin and yang can become unbalanced…”

“Some cultivators even turn to evil or demonic paths just to overcome the drawbacks of Forbidden Techniques…”

“So the Dao Court has to enforce a strict ban on all Forbidden Techniques.”

“Unstable spells should not be widely spread, or they become a major hazard…”

Elder Yi’s expression grew serious.

Mo Hua whispered, “Does the Dao Court secretly keep Forbidden Techniques…”

Elder Yi paused, then didn’t hide it. “The Dao Court does keep some, after all…”

He didn’t say more, but Mo Hua understood.

The Dao Court rules everything; its status is supreme, and no one can interfere.

Mo Hua asked again, “Then the sects… do they keep some too?”

Elder Yi immediately shook his head. “No.”

Mo Hua looked skeptical, not believing a word.

Elder Yi sighed, glanced around, and, seeing no one nearby, cleared his throat and whispered, “Some sects… do keep a few…”

“Of course, not the demonic, evil, or corpse-type Forbidden Techniques.”

“Arts of demons, monsters, corpses, or ghosts violate natural order—they are sealed without exception.”

“The ones sects keep are usually extremely powerful, nearly impossible to practice, uncontrollable, or carry severe aftereffects…”

“Whether to keep these Forbidden Techniques is decided by the sect leader, elders, or ancestors.”

“Some spells could be practiced in the past, but the cost was too high. To prevent passing them on, the ancestors label them as Forbidden Techniques and seal them…”

After saying this, Elder Yi looked seriously at Mo Hua.

“Whatever you do, don’t get any ideas about Forbidden Techniques.”

“Even if the sect keeps them, disciples are strictly prohibited from practicing them.”

“In the Great Void Sect, rules are strict. Any disciple who secretly practices Forbidden Techniques, for any reason, will be expelled immediately!”

Mo Hua felt a chill and his expression grew serious.

Elder Yi patted his shoulder and sighed,

“Elder Xun values you so highly. For your own good, and out of respect for Elder Xun’s intentions, don’t let him down…”

Mo Hua nodded solemnly. “Elder Yi, you can rest assured.”

After Elder Yi left, Mo Hua returned to the disciples’ quarters.

He summarized his conversation:

Spells containing the principles of “fireball fusion” definitely exist, but they are all Forbidden Techniques.

Practicing them carries aftereffects.

Some are minor, some severe, and some can even drive a cultivator mad.

Within the Great Void Sect, Forbidden Techniques are surely hidden.

But their locations would never be revealed to disciples; at least, normal classes and merit records would never include them.

He could not secretly learn the sect’s Forbidden Techniques.

Rules were strict.

If he secretly learned them, even Elder Xun’s favoritism couldn’t save him from expulsion.

Elder Xun had treated him so well—he could not betray that trust.

However!

Mo Hua thought again.

As long as he didn’t secretly learn the sect’s Forbidden Techniques, there was no problem!

As long as he didn’t learn demon, monster, corpse, or ghost-type Forbidden Techniques, the Dao Court wouldn’t intervene.

Side effects were not a concern either. He didn’t intend to truly learn the Forbidden Techniques—he only wanted to study the principles of spell fusion.

By “copying” their spell structures, he could refine and improve them, eventually perfecting a truly stable and controllable “fusion fireball spell.”

According to Elder Yi, disciples who secretly learned Forbidden Techniques would be forcibly expelled—labeled as “traitorous disciples.”

Mo Hua’s eyes lit up. Perhaps among the various criminal cultivators on Boss Jiang’s list, one or two had practiced Forbidden Techniques, leading them to betray the sect and descend into evil.

Boss Jiang was truly a “lucky star” for him—the list was like a treasure map of inheritance.

Mo Hua smiled, then took out Boss Jiang’s list again. He marked the names of criminal cultivators with “fire” in them, filtering for those potentially related to fire spells.

He examined each name carefully: “Fire Engineer, Fire Wolf, Blaze Palm, Fire Butcher…”

Frowning, he felt none of these criminals seemed to have studied Forbidden Techniques. Their spells didn’t hint at structural collapse or mana fusion, offering little reference for his research.

More importantly, he felt no instinctive warning or heartbeat-fluttering signal from the Heavenly Secret Algorithm.

“Nothing…” he thought, disappointed.

He put the jade slip back into his storage ring but soon took it out again, unwilling to give up. Placing it on the table, he studied it carefully using his refined derivative Heavenly Secret Algorithm.

Then he noticed a faint red causal chain on the jade slip.

His heart skipped a beat.

There it was! Within the causal premonitions, the list contained inheritance of a forbidden art akin to “fireball fusion.”

He quickly opened it again.

Yet the names of all the criminals seemed ordinary, nothing out of the ordinary. The previous premonition seemed like an illusion.

Mo Hua calculated and analyzed, still finding nothing.

“What’s going on…”

Leaning on the table, chin in hand, he frowned and pondered. “Is there something I’ve missed? Something hidden deep in Boss Jiang’s list?”

He reread Boss Jiang’s diary, letting his Divine-Sense sift carefully, word by word.

The first read revealed nothing. The second read also yielded nothing.

On the third read, he finally caught a clue.

Certain breaks in the text had blank spaces with concealed patterns, hidden more subtly. His eyes had skipped them instinctively before, which was why he hadn’t noticed.

Mo Hua couldn’t help but admire: “Boss Jiang, clever as ever…”

Almost fooled him!

His eyes gleamed as he began decoding, but these blank spaces contained secret patterns different from the rest.

He had no choice but to patiently use the Secondary Thunder Rune Library, comparing each rune one by one.

After three days, he finally decrypted a new name hidden in the blanks of the jade slip.

The name was deeply concealed, written with heavy ink. It seemed entwined with a blood-red hue, emanating the profound murderous energy of a sea of fire, causing a faint sense of dread.

Mo Hua’s gaze sharpened as he slowly read aloud: “Fire Buddha.”