Immortality Through Array Formations (The Quest for Immortality)

Chapter 665 – Image

The night was deep and the forest deathly silent.

Hao Xuan stared wide-eyed at the three black-robed corpses lying on the ground.

"Little Senior Brother… your formation is way too powerful…"

Just one contact.

A boom, a flash of fire, and then the formation detonated.

The three black-robed cultivators—each one of them not weak—had died without even a chance to react…

Hao Xuan looked shocked.

Mo Hua, deep down, was rather pleased, but on the surface, he kept up his humble "Little Senior Brother" demeanor and simply gave a reserved nod.

"It was alright…"

Normally, he would've followed up with a fireball to finish the job.

But this time, Hao Xuan was nearby, so Mo Hua held back.

He didn't want to seem too ruthless and risk ruining his carefully maintained image of being "pure-hearted and kind" among his fellow disciples.

The three black-robed men were dead.

Mo Hua flicked his finger, drawing a golden line of light that sliced through their masks—but beneath the masks, there was only demonic qi-corrupted, blackened flesh.

"So the moment they die… their faces are ruined too?"

Mo Hua frowned slightly.

If that was the case, he'd have to catch one alive just to see what they actually looked like.

Hao Xuan whispered, "There are four left. Should I lure them over too?"

Mo Hua thought for a moment, then shook his head.

"No need. Four left—it's not worth luring them. Besides, you probably can't anymore."

"Five of their men have already disappeared. Even if they were dumb before, they'll start getting cautious now. If you show your face, they might even try to run."

Hao Xuan frowned in confusion. "Then what should we do?"

"I'll go take a look," Mo Hua said, then added, "You're still injured. Stay hidden nearby. Don't get involved."

"But…" Hao Xuan hesitated, worried. "If you go in without a formation ready, won't it be dangerous facing those black-robed cultivators?"

"My spellcasting is very strong!" Mo Hua replied confidently.

Hao Xuan blinked.

Wait… if he remembered right, didn't Mo Hua only get a "C" grade on the Daoist Arts exam?

C is strong now?

Hao Xuan wanted to say something, but seeing how calm and composed Mo Hua was, he decided it was best to just be obedient.

"Then be careful, Little Senior Brother."

Mo Hua nodded. "Don't worry."

Nine Foundation Establishment black-robed cultivators.

Five had already been baited and wiped out with formations.

The remaining four? Just fish on a chopping board—no chance of escaping his grasp.

Mo Hua's gaze turned sharp.

Hao Xuan looked at him—and for a moment, he had the odd feeling that these terrifying black-robed attackers, who had hunted their group to near despair, were no different in Mo Hua's eyes than…

Little baby chicks?

…No way, right?

On the other side, Cheng Mo and the other two were still locked in battle with the four black-robed cultivators.

They were at a disadvantage.

They'd been fleeing and fighting all the way, drained and exhausted.

Even though the enemies were down to just four, the three of them felt the fight only getting harder.

But this was their best chance to escape.

If they could hold on, there was hope. A chance to survive. Maybe even counterattack.

If those other black-robed cultivators caught Hao Xuan—or gave up and returned—they'd be completely doomed.

They all knew Hao Xuan was fast on his feet.

In this situation, all Cheng Mo and the others could do was hope he could last a little longer.

The four black-robed cultivators, though still pressing the attack, were looking more serious by the minute.

Five of their comrades had left—and still hadn't returned.

Were they stalled? Ambushed?

It was hard to imagine they were dead, but if they were being delayed too long, things could go south fast.

Their black-cloaked actions under cover of night were never meant to see daylight.

The longer things dragged on, the greater the risk.

If they were exposed—death was certain.

The leader of the black-robed group grew more and more uneasy, until he suddenly growled:

"Pills. We end this now."

The other three froze in surprise, hesitant.

But when the "boss" gave an order, none dared disobey.

Each stepped back half a step, then pulled out a blood-colored pill from who-knows-where.

Before Cheng Mo's group could react, the pills were swallowed.

In an instant, the aura of all four surged, and their eyes turned bloodshot.

Cheng Mo and the others stiffened.

"Demonic Pills?"

They all felt a chill in their hearts.

Already struggling—and now these four just juiced up with forbidden demonic drugs, pushing their cultivation up another level.

This could really turn deadly now…

Cheng Mo clenched his teeth and roared:

"You damned demonic bastards! Even if I die today—I'm taking at least one of you with me!"

With that, he howled, his eyes bulging, and his upper body took on a deep bronze hue.

His blood surged like boiling water, and his whole presence exploded outward like a giant axe splitting mountains.

Mountain-Splitting Axe!

A Cheng family ancestral technique—simple, brutal, overwhelming.

When activated, his skin hardened like steel, and his axe could cleave mountains.

But it didn't last long.

Given his current cultivation, he couldn't fully bring out its potential.

Cheng Mo was burning his own life force just to force the technique, going all-in.

Beside him, Situ Jian and Yang Qianjun saw Cheng Mo go all-out and knew the moment had come—either fight with everything or die for sure.

Fight, and there was still a sliver of hope.

Don't fight, and you were a corpse.

Situ Jian pressed two fingers together, sending sword qi soaring. A layer of blazing crimson flame—Fiery Separation Flame—engulfed his spiritual sword.

(This chapter isn't over—click next page to continue!)

Yang Qianjun's eyes gleamed gold, and brilliant golden light surged along his spear.

In that moment, the three looked pale and worn—but their battle spirit burned bright.

Mo Hua arrived just in time to see this sight—and couldn't help but feel a bit impressed.

Noble clan disciples really are something.

These clans, with generations of inherited techniques, truly held power and presence.

Especially Cheng Mo.

Normally he seemed unreliable, but now—dual axes in hand, fighting for life and death—he looked like a wrathful Vajra, terrifying in his momentum.

Situ Jian and Yang Qianjun were no slouches either.

One flame, one gold—spiritual energy surging like waves.

It was just that…

They looked a little too dumb.

These wide-open, flashy techniques were powerful—but if your experience wasn't enough, they had serious drawbacks.

Sure enough, the black-robed leader, though looking grim, didn't panic. Instead, he barked:

"These three are going all out. Don't meet them head-on—play it safe."

His eyes flashed coldly.

"Their strength is spent—they won't last. Just drag it out. Once their blood and spirit are drained, they'll be easy pickings."

The other three nodded, replying in unison, "Yes!"

With lightning speed, the fight resumed.

Cheng Mo and the others knew time wasn't on their side. They aimed to end it fast—strike like thunder, take one or two down, then reassess.

The black-robed side, meanwhile, was stalling—holding them in place, avoiding direct hits, waiting for them to burn themselves out.

A storm of axe-light, sword-glow, and surging blood and spirit clashed on the battlefield.

The clash looked epic—but the fight was deadlocked.

Cheng Mo grew more desperate.

His Mountain-Splitting Axe was rough but short-lived—no good in drawn-out battle.

Situ Jian and Yang Qianjun weren't doing any better.

Their spiritual energy was running dry, and using those high-powered killing techniques drained them fast.

Watching from the shadows,

Mo Hua shook his head slightly.

"Strong, sure—but still too young…"

"Before using a killing move, you should consider: can you actually kill your target? And if not, what are the consequences…"

"Charging in with nothing but passion just wastes a ton of spiritual energy for nothing…"

"Don't they know spiritual energy should be conserved?"

He sighed inwardly, then extended a finger from his hiding place.

A fireball shot out with a sharp whoosh, cutting a blazing arc through the darkness and striking a black-robed cultivator squarely—one who had just dodged Cheng Mo's axe.

It was fast. Too fast.

And far too precise.

The black-robed man was caught completely off guard.

He had no idea where that fireball had come from—or who had cast it.

A moment later, panic flooded his expression.

The fireball wasn't especially powerful—not enough to seriously wound him.

But the blast of spiritual force knocked him off balance for a split second.

In a life-or-death battle, a split second is fatal.

His face turned ghostly pale.

Cheng Mo blinked, then immediately recovered and broke into a grin.

He raised his axes high and brought them down hard.

The black-robed cultivator tried to dodge, but it was too late.

With the strength of a mountain split in two, Cheng Mo's axes cleaved his chest wide open.

One down. Just like that.

Everyone present was stunned.

Cheng Mo's trio felt a rush of hope.

"Someone's helping us!"

The remaining black-robed cultivators, on the other hand, were thrown into panic.

"An ambush?!"

The leader of the black-robed group shouted loudly,

"Who dares to sneak around in the dark?! Show yourself if you've got the guts!"

The forest around them was pitch black, shadows deep and still, the occasional wind rustling branches like ghosts whispering.

The black-robed men broke out in cold sweat.

Cheng Mo's group, meanwhile, had regained momentum. Their eyes sharpened as they pressed the attack on the remaining enemies.

The leader barked another command:

"Keep stalling! Watch for sneak spells!"

The battle resumed.

Cheng Mo and the others fought with renewed vigor.

The black-robed cultivators, however, grew increasingly timid.

They were terrified that another fireball might suddenly come flying out of the dark—and finish them off when they least expected it.

And Mo Hua's fireballs were too fast. Practically impossible to defend against.

A few rounds later, another fireball suddenly ripped through the night sky and exploded against a black-robed cultivator's back.

He grunted in pain, stumbling forward.

Situ Jian was lightning-quick.

He formed a sword gesture and slashed out with a searing Flame Separation Sword Qi.

It pierced the man's heart in a flash of fire.

Another one dead.

Then, only moments later, yet another fireball blasted forth—this one aimed right at the face of another black-robed man.

Having learned from the others' deaths, this one was on high alert.

The moment the fireball launched, he sensed it and ducked desperately, narrowly avoiding a direct hit.

It singed past his ear—blazing pain—but didn't catch his face.

He exhaled in relief… but before he could even finish that breath, he saw the tip of a spear burst through his chest.

Yang Qianjun had circled around behind while he was focused on the fireball, and drove his spear straight through his heart.

And just like that—the tide turned.

Three fireballs. Three lives.

Only the leader of the black-robed group was left standing.

(This chapter isn't over yet—click the next page to continue!)

He stood there, stunned, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"What the hell just happened?!"

In just a blink, a few fireballs had turned the entire battle upside down. Three of his strongest men—gone.

"There's a master! I have to run! If I stay, I die!"

Without a second thought, he turned to flee.

In the darkness, Mo Hua pointed a finger.

Ripples of light-blue water appeared out of nowhere—a Water Prison condensed in an instant, locking the man in place.

"What… what is this…"

His face went completely pale.

Cheng Mo raised his axes, preparing to finish him.

But just then, a crisp voice rang out:

"Take him alive!"

The voice sounded… strangely familiar.

But in this remote mountain forest, in the dead of night, it also felt oddly eerie.

Cheng Mo didn't recognize it right away.

Still, he instinctively changed course, slashing the man in the back instead of the head.

However, the black-robed man's eyes widened in horror the moment he heard "take him alive."

Just then, a streak of golden light flew in from afar—heading straight for his face.

It wasn't powerful—clearly not intended to kill.

It was trying to cut off his mask, to expose his face.

But that seemed to horrify him more than death itself.

His expression twisted with despair.

Before the golden light could reach him, he crushed one of his own fingers.

In a flash, dark demonic qi exploded from his body, swallowing his flesh and turning him into a puddle of foul black liquid.

Cheng Mo and the others jumped back in shock, avoiding the splash.

Then they looked at one another in disbelief.

"That… was some kind of demonic trick?" Cheng Mo said solemnly.

But there was no one left to answer.

The battlefield was covered in blood.

The forest was silent once more.

After a moment, the three of them all let out a long breath.

No matter what… they were still alive.

Yang Qianjun cupped his hands solemnly toward the forest, bowing deeply.

"Thank you, stranger, for your help!"

"May we know the name of our benefactor?"

No answer.

Situ Jian frowned. "Could it be a senior from one of the sects in Qianxue Prefecture? A righteous cultivator passing by, lending a hand?"

"Even though they only used fireball spells—they were scarily accurate. Each one perfectly timed and placed, completely turned the tide…"

"Must be a spellcasting expert."

"Would a real expert only use fireball, though?"

"Doesn't seem likely…"

Cheng Mo nodded seriously.

"Normally, top-tier cultivators wouldn't bother with basic spells like fireball. But true masters? They return to simplicity—turning mundane techniques into miracles."

"...That makes sense."

"Then… who could it be?"

Cheng Mo thought for a moment, then hesitantly said,

"Could it be… some powerful senior cultivator?"

"Just call me 'Little Senior Brother,' no need for 'senior'—feels too distant."

A crisp voice rang out.

Mo Hua silently revealed himself before the three of them, appearing with a dazzling smile.

Yang Qianjun froze.

Situ Jian was dumbfounded.

Cheng Mo's jaw almost hit the ground.

"Mo… Mo Hua?!"

Mo Hua nodded calmly.

"You, you…"

Cheng Mo stammered, struggling to form a sentence. After a long mental reboot, he finally blurted:

"The fireballs… that was you?!"

"Who else?" Mo Hua replied.

Cheng Mo looked around suspiciously.

"There's… no one else?"

"Nope!"

"But… you—"

Cheng Mo's brain was short-circuiting.

How could it be Mo Hua?

How was that even possible?

His mind was swirling with questions, but he was too stunned to even know where to begin.

Mo Hua, meanwhile, ignored him and crouched down to examine the black-robed cultivators' corpses.

As expected, all of them had their flesh and spiritual essence corrupted by demonic qi.

The leader of the group had even dissolved into a puddle of black sludge.

Mo Hua looked disappointed.

Still no live capture…

These people, the moment they sensed death was inevitable, would commit suicide without hesitation—using demonic qi to destroy their own bodies.

Truly ruthless—to themselves.

Or… were they hiding some utterly unmentionable secret?

Mo Hua frowned in thought, then shook his head.

"This place isn't safe. You guys are injured—we should find somewhere to hide and recover."

"Yeah."

The three nodded solemnly.

They carried the unconscious Yi Li, while Mo Hua went to fetch Hao Xuan. Together, they circled through the forest and found a hidden cave to take refuge.

Mo Hua laid down a few simple alert and concealment arrays at the entrance.

Cheng Mo's group stayed inside the cave to heal.

After taking recovery pills, their injuries and spiritual power slowly began to improve. Finally, Situ Jian couldn't help asking:

"Mo Hua, how are you even here?"

Mo Hua replied offhandedly:

"I was on my way back to the sect, passed through here, saw blood traces, and followed them… Happened to find Hao Xuan being chased."

"Then, by pure luck, I rescued him. Followed him to you guys, and 'coincidentally' saved all of you too…"

"…Oh."

Cheng Mo nodded.

But halfway through nodding, he suddenly paused—

Wait a second…

Was that something you could just do by luck and coincidence?

"…How did you save us?" he asked.

"Ah, just… set up an array, boom, done." Mo Hua said casually.

"And the five black-robed guys that got lured away earlier?"

(This chapter isn't over yet—click the next page to continue!)

"Same thing. Set up an array, boom, they're gone."

The three exchanged looks—then all gasped sharply.

"All dead?!"

Mo Hua nodded, then sighed and said helplessly:

"You know I'm an array cultivator. My body's weak, my spiritual energy's limited. Head-on combat's dangerous for me."

"When facing vicious, masked black-robed cultivators like these, what choice did I have? I had to come up with something—so I set a few traps to blow them up."

"How was I supposed to know they'd be so fragile? One boom and they're toast. Can't blame me for that…"

Cheng Mo: "..."

Situ Jian: "..."

Yang Qianjun: "..."

Seeing the shocked expressions on their faces, Mo Hua decided it was time to tone it down.

He put on a serious face and said:

"Anyway, those were minor details. The important thing is—what do we do next?"

"These black-robed cultivators… they're traffickers, right?"

The others were stunned.

Then their expressions turned grim.

"Should we report to the Dao Court?" Situ Jian suggested.

"Yes, we should."

"But… we won't make it in time."

"By the time the Dao Court arrives, those traffickers will be long gone…"

"And who knows where the captured cultivators have been taken…"

"If they ended up in the hands of regular rogue cultivators, maybe they'd be okay. But if they got sold to demonic or devil cultivators, then…"

Dark tales came to mind—of people being killed to refine pills, to forge weapons, to cultivate dark arts.

Everyone's faces grew darker with dread.

"…So maybe…"

Mo Hua's eyes gleamed faintly. He whispered:

"Should we just… kill all the black-robed guys we find?"

The group was stunned.

Then they turned to silently look at Mo Hua.

Especially Cheng Mo and Situ Jian.

They stared as if seeing him for the very first time.

This "Little Senior Brother" of theirs—who had always seemed sweet, innocent, harmless, and mediocre in cultivation, only focused on his silly arrays…

(End of chapter)