Chapter 712: Grounded

Chapter 713: Grounded

And so, in name, Mo Hua became the “Little Senior Brother” of all disciples of the current generation in the Great Void Sect.

The disciples had mixed feelings, their expressions varied.

Always keeping a low profile, Mo Hua now felt like he’d been tossed onto a roasting fire — a little uneasy, a bit confused.

In that moment, he really started to doubt—

Could his father, or his mother, actually be Elder Xun’s long-lost blood relative?

Could he be Elder Xun’s… what, great-great-great-great-great-grandson?

Otherwise, why would Elder Xun treat him so well?

Mo Hua was thoroughly muddled.

After class, Elder Xun added, “Mo Hua, stay behind.”

More than a thousand gazes shot toward Mo Hua like a barrage of arrows.

Mo Hua sighed.

The disciples gradually left, and soon, the enormous lecture hall was empty save for Elder Xun and Mo Hua.

Mo Hua whispered, “Sir, me being ‘Senior Brother’… isn’t that a bit inappropriate…”

Elder Xun’s face straightened. “What’s inappropriate about it? On the Dao path, seniority is determined by attainment. The worthy take the lead. With your level of skill in formations, you fully deserve the title of ‘Senior Brother.’”

“Besides, I didn’t ask them to call you ‘Great Senior Brother.’ Just a ‘Little Senior Brother.’ What’s the issue with that?”

“Early Foundation Establishment cultivation, yet with divine sense comparable to late-stage seventeen-rune Foundation Establishment… capable of learning high-tier second-grade formations — such an outrageous talent more than qualifies you to be the Formation Hall’s Little Senior Brother.”

Elder Xun thought to himself silently.

Mo Hua hesitated. “But…”

Elder Xun seemed to read Mo Hua’s hesitation and said:

“Only mediocrities avoid jealousy. It’s good to keep a low profile, but when it’s time to shine, you shine. When there’s a position worth fighting for, you fight for it.”

“If you’ve got the skill, why let someone less capable stand above you?”

Mo Hua pondered for a moment and nodded slowly.

Seeing that Mo Hua understood, Elder Xun continued reassuringly:

“Rest easy. In other talents, you may be average, but in formations — you’re leagues ahead of the pack!”

“Remember, you are a disciple of the Great Void Sect — one of the Eight Great Schools of Qianxue. From today on, you’re the Little Senior Brother of the entire generation.”

He emphasized the words “Little Senior Brother” heavily, driving it into Mo Hua’s mind.

“…Being modest is good, but you also need the bearing to ‘tower above the mountains.’ You need the aura of someone truly outstanding — the spirit and stature of a Little Senior Brother!”

Elder Xun emphasized “Little Senior Brother” once more.

Sure enough, Mo Hua puffed out his chest and lifted his head, confidence swelling.

“There’s one more thing…” Elder Xun looked at Mo Hua and suddenly said, “I’ve heard about the matter with the Fire Buddha.”

Mo Hua froze.

In a flash, he finally understood why Elder Xun had been so angry those days — like he was about to give him a serious scolding.

Mo Hua felt a bit guilty.

Elder Xun glanced at him, sighed, and said gently:

“Hating evil and upholding justice is admirable, but you’re still young — there’s no need to rush into such dangerous matters.”

“Right now, the priority is to raise your cultivation and master formations.”

“The stronger your cultivation, the deeper your formations, the greater your power — only then can you do more in the future.”

“The Kunpeng lies dormant, waiting for fate — only then can it rise with a single leap, soar into the sky, and break through the nine heavens.”

“To change the pattern of the world, to defy the fate dictated by the heavens — not merely to kill a few sinful or demonic cultivators…”

Mo Hua’s eyes lit up, lost in deep thought.

Seeing the clarity in his gaze, Elder Xun nodded slightly and said:

“Therefore, from today on, focus on cultivation and formations. You’re not allowed to leave the Qianxue Prefecture.”

Mo Hua froze on the spot, his mouth wide open.

Elder Xun declared firmly, allowing no argument:

“Your cultivation is still too low… At the very least, reach mid-Foundation Establishment.”

“Your formations, while impressive, still need polishing. You must study more, practice more — the more, the better; the more solid, the better.”

“Stop running around outside. It distracts you.”

And it’s dangerous…

Elder Xun’s gaze slightly darkened.

“But…” Mo Hua said weakly, “I need to earn contribution points…”

Elder Xun’s eyes turned cold. “I checked at the Contribution Pavilion. Most of your points were earned by drawing formations.”

“You draw them fast. Taking outside commissions doesn’t earn you more than just drawing a few extra formation scrolls here.”

Mo Hua was speechless.

Busted. He really dug up all the dirt.

Seeing Mo Hua’s reluctant expression, Elder Xun figured he couldn’t just ground the kid without offering something sweet. Otherwise, he might hold a grudge. So, Elder Xun said generously:

“How about this — stay in the sect and focus on studying formations. As for formation diagrams… I’ll give them to you. No need to spend contribution points anymore.”

Mo Hua couldn’t believe it. “High-tier second-grade formation diagrams?”

Elder Xun nodded. “Yes.”

Mo Hua looked utterly shocked.

No points spent and I still get to learn formations?

A fat pie just fell straight from the sky!

Afraid Elder Xun would take it back, Mo Hua immediately nodded like a drum:

“Mm! Mm! I’ll stay in the sect and study formations — I won’t go anywhere!”

Seeing Mo Hua’s serious little face, full of enthusiasm, Elder Xun finally relaxed and nodded slightly.

Thus, Mo Hua was officially “grounded” by Elder Xun.

His range of activity was now limited to Qianxue Prefecture.

Primarily within the Great Void Sect, and at most, as far as Qingzhou City at the edge of Qianxue.

Taking outside bounty missions? Not a chance.

Mo Hua now spent every day practicing formations, and every other moment cultivating.

Through this period of cultivation, he could clearly feel his spiritual power steadily increasing.

The bottleneck to mid-Foundation Establishment was already within reach.

Elder Xun kept his promise and gave him ten high-tier second-grade formation diagrams — each with seventeen runes, all based on the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams.

Their total value in contribution points was around four to five thousand.

Mo Hua was beyond thrilled and even more grateful to Elder Xun.

This was a rare opportunity, and Mo Hua threw himself into his studies with even greater effort.

Whenever Elder Xun had spare time, he would summon Mo Hua to quiz him on formation theory related to the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams, and assess his formation practice.

Mo Hua, with his full attention, not only learned quickly but also practiced with exceptional solidity.

Elder Xun didn’t say it out loud, but inside, he was amazed every time.

Young, perceptive, gifted, and extraordinarily hardworking.

Each formation — even if he only studied it for one day, practiced it a few times — by the next morning, it was as though he’d practiced it for ten days.

His brush flowed smoothly; the formation runes were second nature.

Comprehension came swiftly, and his foundation was rock solid.

If this pace continued for several decades, or even a century…

Once Mo Hua truly matured, with stronger cultivation, his formations would reach unimaginable heights—

Elder Xun didn’t even dare to imagine.

This… is a disciple of my Great Void Sect.

After centuries of worldly experience and emotional tempering, Elder Xun’s heart—once calm as an ancient well—was suddenly surging with excitement and profound expectation.

To Elder Xun, Mo Hua, diligently studying formations, had become a peerless treasure. From head to toe—even down to his pores—he seemed to gleam with brilliance.

Mo Hua, on the other hand, had no such lofty thoughts. He simply immersed himself in formation studies with single-minded focus.

Each day was the same: cultivation, attending class, and in his free time, studying formation diagrams and practicing formations.

Once he finished one set, he’d go ask Elder Xun for more.

Though it was a bit monotonous, as long as there were always new formations to learn, Mo Hua didn’t mind in the slightest.

He couldn’t leave Qianxue Prefecture, and bounty tasks were off the table.

In this peaceful sect life, the only “excitement” came from a handful of same-generation disciples who, dissatisfied with Mo Hua being named “Little Senior Brother,” would deliberately come pick a fight.

Usually, Mo Hua couldn’t be bothered.

Like when someone would suddenly block his path, taunt him into comparing skills or strength, with the condition that if he lost, he’d give up being Little Senior Brother—

Too childish.

Mo Hua wouldn’t even spare them a glance.

His time was precious and better spent on delving into the boundless depths of formation comprehension.

Besides, win or lose, he was the Little Senior Brother. There was no need to compete over it—it would only waste energy for no reward.

This, Mo Hua mused, is what Elder Xun meant when he said a Little Senior Brother must have the bearing of “towering above the mountains.”

And so, Mo Hua was completely unshakable. Provocations went in one ear and out the other. He didn’t care at all.

This left those disciples with no way in.

They didn’t dare say anything too harsh—insulting a fellow disciple would earn them punishment.

And they definitely didn’t dare lay hands on him in the sect.

Sect rules strictly forbade private duels and internal strife between disciples.

If anyone even tried to raise a hand, Mo Hua would immediately file a report.

With Elder Xun backing him, every single one of them would be dealt with harshly.

The only remaining option was to cause trouble during formation class.

But if Elder Xun was present, or one of the instructors, they didn’t dare make a move.

Only when both Elder Xun and the instructors were absent—and Mo Hua was helping teach or explain beginner-level second-grade formations—did they have the nerve to act out.

But they forgot something critical: Elder Xun had said very clearly—

When he or the instructors weren’t present, Mo Hua had full authority over the classroom.

If anyone acted up, Mo Hua would “abuse his power” and assign them double the homework.

If double wasn’t enough, then triple.

If they couldn’t finish it? Their formation assessment scores would drop. Their year-end evaluation would suffer. And with that, so would their standing back in their respective families.

The disciples were stunned.

Mo Hua’s behavior was clearly an abuse of authority—treating his feather duster like a command baton. Outrageous!

You’re just a Little Senior Brother, not an instructor, let alone an elder—where did you get this much authority?!

So someone reported it to Elder Xun.

And the shock only deepened: Elder Xun approved of Mo Hua’s actions.

Mo Hua dared to abuse his position—and Elder Xun actually covered for him.

Unbelievable.

Forget being a rogue cultivator—even if Mo Hua were the biological grandson of some ancestor, he probably wouldn’t be treated this well.

But with Elder Xun supporting him, everyone could only suck it up and endure.

And Mo Hua was… a little petty.

Anyone who had acted out, made a jab, or tried to provoke him—even if Mo Hua didn’t seem to care at the time—they were all quietly recorded in his little mental notebook.

Mo Hua also noticed a pattern: the ones who picked on him were always those with poor formation skills.

The ones good at formations? All it took was a few words of formation theory from Mo Hua, and they instantly grasped his deep mastery. They wouldn’t dare cause trouble.

It was always the clueless ones who barked the loudest.

They couldn’t comprehend the skill gap and assumed Mo Hua, being even younger than them, couldn’t be that much better—even if he was skilled in formations.

But jade needs carving to become a gem—just as formations must be studied to reveal their meaning.

As the Little Senior Brother, Mo Hua took it upon himself to “gently guide” them—by assigning tougher, more extensive homework.

The results? Confused disciples, overwhelmed practice sessions, and more frustration than progress.

After being “disciplined” like this for a while, their attitudes began to change.

They slowly came to understand: the Dao of formations was vast and profound.

Two people may appear to be studying the same thing, but their abilities could be worlds apart.

And for some… the gap was so wide, they couldn’t even see how far behind they were.

These few disciples gradually became more humble.

And they also came to another realization—

That this so-called “Little Senior Brother” named Mo Hua, with his gentle looks, pale skin, innocent face, and seemingly easygoing nature—

Was actually a white lotus on the outside, black-hearted on the inside.

A soft knife wrapped in silk.

He didn’t even need to get his hands dirty to make someone suffer.

Once he held a grudge against you? There was no escaping the consequences.

They got the message loud and clear and stopped causing trouble.

The atmosphere between Mo Hua and his “Little Junior Brothers” and “Little Junior Sisters” improved significantly. In class and outside of it, few dared provoke him anymore.

A subtle balance was established—live and let live.

While most still didn’t truly recognize Mo Hua as their Little Senior Brother in their hearts, on the surface they were polite enough, and their attitudes were decent.

That was fine by Mo Hua. He was satisfied.

After all, he was busy studying high-tier second-grade formations. He didn’t have the time or energy to play games with these junior disciples.

…

And so, without fanfare, Mo Hua’s proficiency in formations advanced by leaps and bounds—quietly but drastically.

He hadn’t forgotten his master’s teaching either: “Apply what you learn.”

During each rest period, Mo Hua would take a trip to Qingzhou City to greet Aunt Wan, and if the opportunity arose, he’d visit Master Gu to chat about array media.

When he had time, Master Gu would also return from Gushan City to the Gu family estate in Qingzhou.

Any time Mo Hua had a question about array media, Master Gu would answer without holding anything back. For Mo Hua’s occasional requests, he was equally accommodating.

But array media, after all, was a form of craftsmanship—it emphasized practicality.

Since Mo Hua was now confined to the sect, he didn’t have many opportunities to put formations into real-world use. So, many of his ideas remained just that: ideas. There was no way to implement them.

Still, from his conversations with Master Gu, Mo Hua gained valuable insight—though one lingering question began to form in his mind.

“Master Gu, in a sense, isn’t array media refined using artifact-refining techniques? That makes it essentially a type of spiritual artifact, right?

And if spiritual artifacts require formations to function, doesn’t that also make them a kind of array medium?”

“So, by that logic… array media are spiritual artifacts, and spiritual artifacts are array media?”

Master Gu, per tradition, offered a mildly exaggerated compliment first:

“Young Master Mo, your mind is as sharp as ever—so meticulous in thought…”

Then he explained:

“Whether it’s array media or spiritual artifacts, these are just classifications created by cultivators to support different paths of cultivation.”

Mo Hua had a sudden realization.

“So in essence, both are ‘objects’ used as a medium for drawing formations? The difference is just a man-made distinction for the sake of convenience?”

Master Gu paused for a moment, then sincerely nodded:

“Young Master Mo is truly gifted.”

He went on:

“It’s true—they are very similar. But when you break it down, the differences stem from the cultivation industry itself.”

“Industry?” Mo Hua echoed.

“Yes.” Master Gu nodded. “Spiritual artifacts in the cultivation world are usually standardized spiritual artifacts. Their materials, dimensions, crafting procedures, and compatible formations are all fixed, following established norms.”

“This standardization increases refinement efficiency, allows for mass production, and boosts overall output.”

“In such artifacts, formations serve the artifact. The artifact dictates the formation’s purpose.”

“Array media, on the other hand, are the opposite. They serve the formation. A single piece of array media can host a variety of formations—so their purpose is defined by the formation, not the other way around.”

Mo Hua’s eyes lit up with understanding. Then he asked:

“Then… are there spiritual artifacts specifically tailored to support formations?”

“There are!” Master Gu nodded. “Array media may be versatile, but they can’t perfectly suit every formation or fully bring out a formation’s potential.”

“In such cases, you need specific materials, dimensions, structure, and crafting processes—all customized to suit the formation perfectly.”

“These are what we call custom spiritual artifacts.”

“The most iconic example is the spiritual sword.”

“Spiritual sword?” Mo Hua’s eyes gleamed with interest.

Master Gu nodded again.

“We can ignore low-grade standardized spiritual swords for now. The truly exceptional ones—even some life-bound magical swords—are refined using secret techniques passed down through generations.”

“The material and shape of the sword must match perfectly with the internal sword formation, or it won’t be able to unleash its full power.”

Sword formation!

Mo Hua’s heart skipped a beat. He immediately asked:

“Master Gu, have you ever seen a sword formation?”

Master Gu gave a bitter smile.

“Sword formations are extremely rare and highly specialized formations. They’re core inheritances of sword cultivation clans.

As an artifact refiner, I have no business being anywhere near them.”

Mo Hua sighed in disappointment.

Master Gu continued:

“Aside from swords, other custom spiritual artifacts also need to be precisely matched with high-level formations.”

That’s when Mo Hua realized another issue:

“If a custom spiritual artifact can eventually be mass-produced, wouldn’t that make it a standardized artifact?”

Master Gu looked surprised, then nodded:

“Exactly. But the reason they’re called custom spiritual artifacts is because they can’t be mass-produced.

That’s what sets them apart from standardized artifacts.”

Mo Hua frowned slightly.

“Because of limitations in the cultivation industry?”

“Exactly.” Master Gu began explaining:

“Standardized spiritual artifacts are meant to be general-purpose. Their materials are common and cheap. The formations applied to them are simple and easy to draw.”

“General-purpose artifacts are easier to sell. Common materials mean broader sourcing. Cheap materials reduce costs.

And basic formations can be drawn by any formation master—or even learned in ten to fifteen days.”

“All of this makes mass production possible.”

“But custom spiritual artifacts are different. They have higher costs, specialized designs, and niche applications.

The formations required are often far too advanced for most formation masters.”

Master Gu shook his head and sighed.

“Think about it—if a formation on a custom spiritual artifact can only be drawn by one or two master-level formationists, how can you possibly mass-produce it?”

“Even a highly skilled formation master can only draw a handful of formations per day.”

“If they stop drawing, it’s almost impossible to replace them.”

“So, yes—technically, if you could mass-produce a custom spiritual artifact, it would become standardized.”

“But in practice, due to cost, structure, and especially formation complexity, they simply cannot be mass-produced at all…”

Master Gu let out a long sigh, clearly feeling some kind of professional lament.

“Oh…”

Mo Hua didn’t comment, only gave a slight nod of understanding.