Immortality Through Array Formations (The Quest for Immortality)

Chapter 689: Rumors

Even though he had already guessed it, Mo Hua still felt a chill creep through his heart.

His gaze darkened slightly, and he asked,

"How did those two children go missing?"

Gu Changhuai replied,

"According to nearby fisherman-cultivators, the two kids were playing in the village around dusk. But by nightfall… they'd just vanished."

"Old Yu and his family at first thought the kids were just being naughty and didn't want to come home. But as the night grew later and the boys still didn't show, they realized something was wrong and searched the village overnight—but found nothing."

"They looked near the river too. Still nothing."

"It was like they vanished into thin air…"

"Some of the villagers think the children might've wandered too close to the Mistwater River and were dragged in and eaten by river fiends…"

"But right now, it seems more likely they were abducted by Crossing Dragon."

"If we don't act quickly… and Crossing Dragon sells them off, it'll be almost impossible to rescue them…"

Gu Changhuai's expression was grim.

No… not sold off.

A chill gnawed at Mo Hua's heart.

It's entirely possible… Crossing Dragon used them as sacrifices—offered to the Evil God.

And if that's the case…

They may never come back.

"Did the Dao Court send anyone to search?" Mo Hua asked.

Gu Changhuai hesitated for a moment, then said helplessly,

"The fishing village is full of scattered rogue cultivators. It's not part of any immortal city. Many of them don't even have registration, and the jurisdiction there is loose. The Dao Court usually avoids meddling in such places—since helping unregistered cultivators earns no merit points."

"I could only send some people from the Gu clan to search near the Mistwater River and around the village…"

"But we haven't found a single clue."

"If they're not outside, then they must still be in the village."

"Which means it's very likely Crossing Dragon brought those children into that hideout you mentioned. Now we just need to find the entrance as soon as possible…"

"Mm." Mo Hua nodded.

He actually already knew where the entrance was—but now wasn't the time to reveal it.

After a bit of thought, he said,

"On my next rest day, I'll go back to the village and take another look."

Gu Changhuai:

"I'll try to make time and go too…"

Mo Hua was about to agree, but then paused and said thoughtfully:

"Uncle Gu, you're a third-rank inspector. You've got a lot on your plate—maybe hold off for now. Once I find the entrance, I'll let you know."

Gu Changhuai fell silent for a moment and then agreed:

"That might be better."

Though he was a Golden Core cultivator, he wasn't necessarily more "skilled" than Mo Hua at investigating missing persons.

And with Mo Hua's intelligence and sharp instincts—if even he couldn't find it, Gu Changhuai doubted he could do much better.

Having been through many trials with Mo Hua by now, Gu Changhuai wasn't especially worried about his safety anymore.

Unless he ran into someone like Fire Buddha—who, at the peak of Foundation Establishment, was nearly unmatched below the Core stage—Mo Hua likely wouldn't face much danger. Especially not in a second-grade region's humble fishing village.

Even if trouble did arise, Mo Hua had enough skills to protect himself.

Not doubting him, Gu Changhuai simply gave the usual warning:

"Just be careful."

"Mm."

After the chat, Mo Hua couldn't help but sigh as he thought of old man Yu—who had tried so hard to carve out a path for his two grandsons.

"Misfortune always strikes the weakest string… and fate just loves to bully the poor."

"The more someone suffers, the more life seems to pile on."

"Let's just hope Old Yu's grandsons weren't really taken down into that blood-misted well by Crossing Dragon…"

When the rest day came, Mo Hua once again set out for the fishing village.

Originally, he had planned to visit Withered Mountain first, to see his old friend Lord Huangshan in the ruined temple. He'd wanted to chat, and subtly ask whether there were any methods or precautions for dealing with an evil god.

But now, there was no time.

If he delayed any longer, Old Yu's two grandsons might not even leave behind bones…

He'd just visit Lord Huangshan later.

Mo Hua set out early from the Great Void Sect, traveling by carriage through Qingzhou City and then down the road along the Mistwater River.

When he arrived at the fishing village, it was already noon.

There was far less cooking smoke than usual in the village.

Most of the fisherman-cultivators had skipped lunch and were spread out, calling:

"Xiaoshun!"

"Xiaoshui!"

Xiaoshun and Xiaoshui were Old Yu's grandsons' nicknames.

Everyone was helping Old Yu search for them.

Though the village was poor, the residents lived together, ate together, and shared their days. Their bonds were strong.

Even a few villagers who'd had past grudges with Old Yu had come out to help.

After all, children are innocent.

Skipping a few days of fishing meant some hunger.

But losing a child… meant losing a life, a flesh-and-blood loved one.

One you'd never see again.

That kind of grief… everyone could understand.

Mo Hua sighed.

After a moment, he headed for Old Yu's home.

There were several elderly cultivators gathered there—all white-haired and gaunt, likely senior villagers.

Old Yu sat beneath the eaves, gaze blank, spirit shattered.

His shoes were worn through.

Though he was a Foundation Establishment cultivator and physically strong, his feet were cracked and bleeding, clearly from walking too far for too long.

"Take a break…"

"Keep looking—but slowly. Don't push too hard…"

The elders were trying to comfort him.

But Old Yu sat like a statue, unhearing.

Only when Mo Hua entered did his dull eyes shift slightly, and a mix of regret and hatred surfaced on his ashen face.

"I… was wrong…"

Old Yu stared at Mo Hua, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Young sir… I was wrong. I shouldn't have ignored your warning…"

"I was too greedy."

He slapped himself hard.

"Why couldn't I just be satisfied?"

"I deserve to die…"

His eyes were bloodshot with remorse.

The old cultivators around them looked stunned, glancing at each other in confusion.

Mo Hua's gaze sharpened slightly, and he asked softly:

"Uncle Yu… what exactly happened?"

Old Yu lowered his eyes, expression tangled.

Finally, as if all strength had left his body, he sighed in defeat:

"That day I listened to your words. They made sense—people should know contentment. We shouldn't keep asking the River God for more…"

"So I decided to stop raising bloodfish, stop offering sacrifices, stop making wishes to the River God…"

"I really had made up my mind… but that night, I had a dream…"

"In the dream, my grandsons had entered a sect—but because they came from humble origins, they were mocked, bullied, and oppressed by the noble children of the great clans. Forced to serve them… to be their dogs…"

"In the end, Xiaoshui couldn't endure the humiliation… and silently took his own life…"

"His brother Xiaoshun tried to avenge him—but he was no match for those young nobles. They beat him to death…"

"Afterward, his body was corroded by some kind of black poison—completely unrecognizable…"

Upon hearing that, Mo Hua's scalp tingled. A chill ran down his spine.

"Could this be…"

Old Yu didn't notice the shift in Mo Hua's expression, and continued:

"And just like that… I lost them both…"

"My two grandsons… they're just gone like that…"

"When I woke up, I was drenched in cold sweat. That's when I realized—I had underestimated things. Life in a sect isn't that simple. The waters run too deep. I'm just a rogue cultivator… I know nothing."

"Eight thousand spirit stones… it's no small sum for rogue cultivators like us. But for noble clans and major sects, it's just a drop in the ocean."

"That amount of spirit stones isn't nearly enough to buy my two grandsons a good future."

"But I'm useless. I'm only a Foundation Establishment cultivator because I got lucky late in life. I've got no cultivation heritage, no real skills…"

"So I could only… turn to the River God again."

Old Man Yu's face twisted with grief.

Mo Hua already had a guess in his heart and sighed.

"And then?"

"Then…" Old Yu's tears streamed down again. "Then retribution came. I was too greedy…"

"The River God was angry with me."

"It took away my two grandsons… as punishment."

"They'll never come back…"

Old Yu's expression was one of total despair.

Mo Hua frowned.

Suddenly, an elderly cultivator nearby cried out in shock,

"Sacrificed to the River God? You…"

His pupils shrank; his voice trembled.

"What… what did you use as the offering?"

His reaction startled everyone around.

Old Yu, puzzled, rasped,

"A kind of small, blood-red fish…"

The old man's face instantly went pale.

"This is bad… this is very bad…"

Mo Hua's heart skipped a beat. He quickly asked the white-haired elder,

"Grandpa, do you know what that blood-red fish is?"

The old man looked terrified.

"That fish is the omen of a village's destruction…"

The other villagers looked confused.

"You don't know…" the old man's eyelids twitched, his voice chilling.

"I've lived three hundred years. Long ago, I heard stories from my elders… This region wasn't always this fishing village."

"There was another fishing village here—larger than this one, with far more fisherman-cultivators."

"At first, everything was fine. The seasons were kind, the harvests enough to live on."

"Then… people started dying in the river. No one knew why. Everyone was scared."

"One day, someone passed through the village and told them they had angered the River God—that the deaths were divine punishment."

"They said the villagers had to dig a well, raise bloodfish using human blood, then toss the fish into the well as offerings."

"That way, the River God would accept their faith and forgive them."

"The villagers didn't fully believe it, but they tried it anyway—and sure enough, the deaths in the river stopped."

"But over time… people in the village started acting strange. Blank-eyed. Slow. Like walking corpses…"

"As if… something had eaten their minds."

The elder's voice trembled. He looked haunted by the memory.

"Then, not long after, for some reason, the entire village… just vanished."

Mo Hua's pupils contracted.

"Vanished?"

The old man nodded.

"Yes. Everyone gone. The whole village disappeared. No one knew what happened."

"And ever since, for ten li around that place, a heavy fog rises at night. So thick you can't see your hand in front of your face."

"Anyone who enters that fog… never comes back out."

Mo Hua's expression turned grave, thoughts swirling.

"Oh—wait," the old man suddenly paused, then remembered something.

"There was one person… one person did come out."

Mo Hua blinked.

"Who?"

The old man shook his head.

"I only heard it when I was little, from the older generation. I don't know who it was."

"They said it was a swordsman—a cultivator with long eyebrows and a sword on his back. He ignored all the warnings and walked straight into the fog."

"Everyone thought he was dead for sure. But just before dawn, he came back out."

"He didn't look injured… but his face was pale. Like he'd gone through a terrible battle."

"Before he left, he left two warnings:

First—never enter the blood fog, or your life will hang by a thread.

Second—never raise blood-red fish, or the entire village will perish."

"But his words were strange too."

"The fog's just fog, right? Where's the 'blood' part? Why call it blood fog?"

The old man shook his head and continued,

"Still, that sword-carrying cultivator—no one knows his name or origin, but he clearly wasn't ordinary. So people passed on his warning."

"Eventually, the blood fog faded. The old village was gone. And nearly a hundred years later, this small village was built in its place."

"Those old cultivators—dead or aged—are gone now. The swordsman's words were forgotten. Almost no one knows about the terrifying taboo hidden here…"

The old man's voice was full of sorrow.

The others nearby were visibly shaken.

Though not everyone believed it.

"A curse that destroys a whole village? Sounds like superstition to me."

"Probably some old rumor someone made up…"

"Yeah, what's with all this talk about gods and disasters? Xiaoshun and Xiaoshui probably just fell into the river and got taken by a river beast."

"Nonsense! If a river beast got them, they're already dead!"

"I bet they were kidnapped by traffickers. Maybe we'll find them in a few days."

"Kidnappers? How do you even track them down?"

"Old Yu, don't worry too much. The kids probably just got lost playing. They might come walking back home any day now…"

...

Surrounding cultivators were all trying to comfort Old Yu.

But Old Yu only shook his head miserably and muttered with grim certainty:

"It was the River God…"

"It was my greed… I angered the River God. That's why it took my two grandsons. They'll never come back…"

"I've lost everything in this life…"

"Not even a sliver of hope left…"

His gaze was vacant. Despair clung to his face like death—like the last light of his life had just been snuffed out by the weight of cruel reality.

Mo Hua's pupils shrank.

He sensed that Old Yu's willing force—his faith-born power—was being drained away.

And at the same time, something inside the fish tank in the room began to swell violently, distorting and growing rapidly…

Mo Hua's expression turned cold. He formed a sword-finger and shot out a golden beam of light. It streaked through the air and struck the small fish tank Old Yu had used to raise the bloodfish—shattering it instantly.

Water spilled everywhere.

And from the ruins, a red creature leapt out.

It had sharp fangs and scales covering its body. Its gills had twisted into limbs, and its lifeless eyes stared blankly as it stood upright like a person.

—It was the bloodfish Old Yu had raised.

Mo Hua warned,

"Stand back!"

Then raised his hand and launched several fireballs at the blood-colored fish demon.

The fireballs weren't particularly powerful—when they hit the strange creature, they only staggered it.

The bloodfish cackled wildly, its grotesque features twisted with arrogance.

Mo Hua pointed again. More fireballs whooshed through the air.

This time, the fish demon had begun adapting to its new body—it moved faster, dodging the blasts with ease. Then it looked at Mo Hua with eyes full of malice and contempt.

Mo Hua's expression remained calm. He kept casting Fireball Art.

Once again, the fireballs missed their mark and struck the ground, kicking up clouds of smoke.

Under the cover of that smoke, Mo Hua subtly traced runes with his fingers—guiding his spiritual ink with his divine sense, forming an array on the ground.

Several Second-Rank Earthfire Arrays emerged, hidden beneath the fish demon's feet.

His technique was swift and discreet.

By the time the smoke cleared and the demon noticed the glowing red runes beneath it, its eyes went wide with alarm.

But it was already too late.

A wave of intense flame burst upward, engulfing the creature.

With a wailing shriek, the newly born fish demon was blown apart by several Earthfire Arrays, reduced to a pool of blood mist.

The elderly cultivators around were stunned. They hadn't even grasped what happened before the monster was already dead.

But although the demon perished, the blood mist remained.

Mo Hua took a step forward, approaching the mist. As he had expected, it surged toward him, flowing straight into his nose and mouth.

After swallowing the blood mist, Mo Hua immediately sat down cross-legged and entered meditation, diving into his sea of consciousness.

Within it—the red fish demon reappeared.

It laughed maniacally, its dead fish-eyes spinning with hunger. It thought this was its domain now.

But the next moment, Mo Hua's figure appeared.

The demon froze.

Before it could react, Mo Hua—his body shining with golden light—reached out with a small hand and grabbed its throat. With one firm squeeze, he crushed the creature to death in a single instant.

Then Mo Hua withdrew from his sea of consciousness and opened his eyes.

The courtyard was silent.

The old cultivators nearby were a mix of fear and confusion. They didn't understand what had happened—nor how Mo Hua had done it.

As for Old Yu—his eyes still held terror and confusion—but beneath that was the shattered, hopeless stare of someone who had lost everything.

Mo Hua felt a pang in his heart.

Now he understood.

In a life full of suffering, to give someone a shred of hope—only to cruelly crush it—creates a despair far deeper than any pain.

That kind of despair instantly drains a person of their will to live.

It produces an extreme, agonizing wish-force—the very best offering for a heretical god.

Mo Hua looked at Old Yu, now little more than a walking corpse, and sighed.

"There is no River God."

Old Yu's gaze shifted slightly, dull and mechanical.

Mo Hua said,

"The River God never existed. What you did wasn't a sacrifice. That fish you raised—it wasn't divine at all. Just a common water demon."

"Your grandsons weren't taken by a god. They were kidnapped—by traffickers."

"The Dao Court has been tracking them for days."

Old Yu slowly came back to his senses.

"The… Dao Court?"

Mo Hua nodded and pulled out his bronze Dao Court badge.

"I'm actually a member. I came to this village because we received word that the trafficker was hiding among you. You all just never realized it…"

"Your two grandsons were taken by them."

"The Dao Court already has leads and is closing in. You don't need to worry—we'll have news very soon."

Hope began to flicker in Old Yu's eyes again.

He mustered all his strength, knelt down, and gave Mo Hua a deep bow.

"Thank you… please, young master…"

But his wish-force had already been drained. His divine sense devoured. His face was deathly pale, and he was too weak to even stay upright.

Mo Hua gently helped him up and whispered:

"This matter is under secret investigation. We can't alert the enemy. Don't tell anyone."

Old Yu nodded solemnly.

His grandsons weren't taken by some unknowable deity—but by men. That meant there was still hope… still a chance…

A glimmer of desire and will to live slowly returned to his eyes.

Mo Hua sighed inwardly.

Though he said they were taken by traffickers…

...in truth, it's not much different than being taken by a heretical god.

—

Afterward, Mo Hua left Old Yu's house, walking through the fishing village deep in thought—formulating his next move.

No matter what, he had to go down that well.

From the conversation between those old villagers earlier, he had finally pieced it together:

What lies at the bottom of that well... is the entrance.

The entrance to the village that vanished centuries ago—polluted by the Heretical God.

(End of this Chapter)