Immortality Through Array Formations (The Quest for Immortality)

Chapter 991: Rebirth of Yimu (乙木回春)

Inside the high pavilion, the atmosphere was stifling—so oppressive that even the void itself seemed to have solidified.

The swirling smoke hovered mid-air, completely still.

The celestial instrument representing the Three Talents had also stopped rotating.

Even the flow of time appeared to slow.

Only within the Elder's eyes, terrifying fate and perilous karma surged like tidal waves crashing in the abyss—ceaseless and monstrous.

Who knew how long it took before the tension finally eased.

The void began to move again.

The mist resumed its swirling; the celestial instrument resumed its spinning.

Everything returned to normal.

The Elder remained that same sleepy figure, disoriented and drowsy, looking like he could doze off at any moment.

Yet the ripples stirred by the tides of fate within his heart had not settled.

"Rebirth…"

"That person's... rebirth?"

The Elder found it inconceivable.

Karma that had already perished was now quietly sprouting once more.

That already inscrutable and heaven-shaking game of chess had now, unknowingly, spawned yet another terrifying variable.

"The Yin-Yang Rebirth Array—reversing Yin and Yang, turning death into life, defying all norms and disregarding Daoist laws…"

"This is not a formation one should ever dabble in…"

"These days, people really are bold. There's nothing they won't dare to imagine, nothing they won't dare to do...

I wonder if it's ignorance giving them courage—or if they truly possess a mind so profound that even gods and ghosts cannot fathom it."

"Why… must it be this formation…"

The Elder remained silent for a long time before finally sighing.

No one knew better than him how terrifying the words 'Yin-Yang Rebirth' truly were.

Once revealed, the karma it would stir was so vast that even those ancient monsters in slumber might be forced to "rise from their graves."

If this storm grew any bigger, even his own position as Elder would be forfeit.

The Elder went silent again.

Switch bait—or switch fish?

Should he use this "bait" to catch the big fish?

Or replace the "fish" to revive the whole board?

Even a fool would know which to choose.

This "bait" was a world-shaking array, containing the celestial secrets of Yin-Yang and Rebirth—something that could even impact his own standing as Elder.

Forget one fish. Even a hundred, a thousand fish weren't qualified to touch this bait.

Even a golden dragonfish wouldn't cut it.

"If this fish won't bite, I'll simply change the fish."

After some thought, the Elder moved to put away the Yin-Yang Rebirth Array. But just as his divine sense flickered, his hand suddenly stopped.

He fell into quiet contemplation:

"Even a fool knows which choice to make…"

Would he, an Elder of the Pavilion, do something that even a fool would do?

His gaze narrowed, falling into deep silence.

A true seeker of the Dao follows the will of the heavens. One should use all things but not be used by them.

One must exhaust the laws of nature without being bound by them.

Do not limit oneself within the framework of worldly fame and profit. Maintain a heart like that of an innocent child—treating all things equally. Only then can the heart reflect the true form of destiny and karma.

Following this line of thought…

"If fate has presented this choice before me at this very moment... then perhaps it is not just a decision, but also... a revelation?"

"What is this revelation…?"

The Elder sat before the chessboard, motionless like a clay statue, silently pondering.

All manner of karmic threads and heavenly secrets flowed through his mind.

The pendulum of destiny continued to swing.

Time slowly passed.

The incense burned down little by little.

The moon set. The sun rose in the east, and then dimmed again. The sunset bathed the skies in orange, and night once more approached.

The Elder sat unmoving on the meditation mat for an entire day and night before finally making his decision—slowly, but with firm resolve.

Even he felt a chill at the choice.

But at the same time, a sense of relief washed over him.

In this world, there is no gain without loss, no loss without gain. All is the revelation of fate and karma.

At this realization, the world seemed to widen.

A sharp glint flashed in the Elder's eyes. He retrieved the Yin-Yang Rebirth Array, forged from golden karma, from the void.

With a finger tap, his spiritual power pierced the boundary of illusion and reality, etching layer upon layer of dense array patterns onto the jade slip—overlaying it with a new set of formation runes.

Finally, he personally inscribed five new characters on the jade slip:

乙木回春陣 – Rebirth of Yimu Array.

After doing all this, the Elder summoned a young attendant and ordered:

"Bring me the Supervisor."

The boy acknowledged the command and left.

Before long, the Supervisor arrived—half-white hair, a face like polished jade. He cupped his hands and said:

"Elder, you summoned me."

The Elder waved him over. "Come, play a game of chess with me."

The Supervisor froze.

The affairs in the Qianxue region were extremely complex.

Under orders from the Dao Court, he had many things to prepare—his schedule was tight. How could he have time to play chess with the Elder?

Not to mention… the Elder was notorious for being a terrible chess player.

But of course, he didn't dare refuse.

"Yes."

He respectfully cupped his hands and sat opposite the Elder, beginning the match.

As expected, within moments, the Elder's pieces were scattered and defeated, a complete mess.

And that was with the Supervisor holding back.

The Elder frowned. "Your chess is lacking."

The Supervisor sighed inwardly.

Everyone knew that in the Heavenly Pivot Pavilion, the hardest task was to play chess with the Elder.

Not because chess was hard—but because guessing his thoughts was.

No one knew what exactly the Elder was trying to accomplish. His skill was awful, yet he always criticized others.

If you played seriously and crushed him—he'd say your technique was crude.

If you played casually and made it a draw—he'd say you weren't taking it seriously.

If you deliberately let him win—he'd accuse you of having a crooked heart and flattering your superiors, and scold you into the dirt.

Truly impossible to please.

"I really don't know what kind of person could play a game of chess and actually get along with the Elder…" the Supervisor grumbled internally, but didn't dare slack off and continued the match seriously.

After a while, the Elder suddenly said:

"Have you heard… about the Pavilion of the Young Lord?"

The question came so abruptly that the Supervisor's fingers trembled as he held a piece.

The chess piece fell… right into a dead spot.

He wanted to retrieve it, but then remembered—a move made is a move committed. He hesitated, then slowly withdrew his hand.

The Elder didn't seem to notice and continued studying the board, deciding where to place his next piece.

The Supervisor replied softly, "Just some children… playing games…"

The Elder didn't comment, only said:

"The word 'Pavilion' is not something to be used lightly."

"Yes…" the Supervisor replied in a low voice. "The children don't know the weight of things…"

The Elder said nothing more, focusing entirely on the board.

Meanwhile, the Supervisor sat with a storm churning in his heart.

Uneasy thoughts stirred in the Supervisor's heart.

The two continued their game of chess—black and white pieces falling in succession.

The Elder was still being thoroughly trounced, making one blunder after another, losing his pieces left and right.

In the midst of the game, the Elder suddenly said,

"This position of Elder... would you like it?"

That sentence was like a thunderclap on a clear day.

The Supervisor dropped his piece in fright and fell to his knees.

"Master, I... your disciple..."

The Elder waved his hand dismissively.

"Just speaking casually. Why so nervous?"

The Supervisor stayed kneeling, not daring to move.

The Elder's cloudy gaze fell on him—there was appreciation in his eyes, but also a trace of disappointment. With a sigh, he said slowly,

"Even if you don't want the Elder's position now, one day I will still have to give it to you…"

The Supervisor replied bitterly,

"Master, your words are too heavy. I…"

The Elder gestured again—no need to go on.

Staring at him meaningfully, the Elder said,

"You must think clearly—what is it that you truly want?

Once you're clear, pursue it with unwavering resolve."

"Whether it's the Dao, immortality, fame, power—even this seat of Elder—it's fine to pursue.

But you must know why.

Don't get dragged forward blindly, step by step, without knowing your path."

The Supervisor respectfully bowed,

"Your disciple understands."

The Elder sighed in his heart and shook his head with faint disappointment.

"Have you finished preparing matters in the Qianxue Prefecture?" he asked.

"Yes…"

The Elder retrieved a jade slip and handed it to him,

"Add this formation as part of the first-place reward in the Sword Debate Assembly. Consider it a token of goodwill from the Heavenly Pivot Pavilion."

The Supervisor rose respectfully and took the jade slip with both hands. As his eyes swept over it, he saw the inscription: "Rebirth of Yimu Array (乙木回春陣)", and asked:

"Master…"

"You're in the Pavilion now," the Elder cut in.

The Supervisor paused, then said,

"Forgive your disciple's dullness—but what's the deeper meaning of this array?"

The Elder's expression turned gently compassionate.

"The Sword Debate has become too bloodthirsty.

We must help the disciples understand that the true goal of swordsmanship is to save people with the sword—

Not to dominate or to kill."

The Supervisor cupped his hands in admiration,

"Master, your heart is truly benevolent."

The Elder had already started cleaning up the chessboard, muttering,

"Playing chess with you really isn't fun…"

After packing away a board on which he couldn't even last ten moves, he waved his hand and said,

"You may go."

Helpless, the Supervisor carefully put away the jade slip inscribed with Rebirth of Yimu Array, bowed deeply and said,

"Your disciple takes his leave."

The Elder ignored him, already drifting off into another nap.

And this nap—was one of deep peace.

He no longer seemed like a high and mighty Elder, but just a simple old man, one who liked to nap and play chess.

The Supervisor respectfully withdrew from the pavilion and returned to his own chamber. He rubbed the jade slip in his hands, brows furrowed.

"Rather than just a lesson for the Sword Debate disciples,

could it be… the Elder was really trying to give me a message?"

"Keep kindness in your heart, let dead wood spring to life—saving others is saving oneself?"

"...Could it really be that simple?"

His gaze deepened. For a moment, he was tempted to crack the jade slip open and examine it thoroughly.

But when he recalled the Elder's deep, ocean-like gaze—and the pointed lesson from earlier—he immediately extinguished that thought.

Just because the Elder didn't say something didn't mean he didn't know.

Trying to trick him? That would be as foolish as covering your ears while stealing a bell.

The Supervisor carefully placed the Rebirth of Yimu Array into a jade box, wrote an official order, stamped it with his personal seal, then summoned a trusted aide.

"Deliver this box under the name of the Heavenly Pivot Pavilion,

to the Qianxue Sword Debate Grand Assembly.

It will serve as an additional reward for the champion."

"Yes, sir."

The aide respectfully accepted the jade box and withdrew, following Pavilion protocols to the letter.

And just like that, this ornate yet seemingly ordinary jade box was officially sent to Qianxue Prefecture—bearing the seal of the Heavenly Pivot Pavilion, the Supervisor's personal stamp, and the formal emblem of a sealed reward.

Everything appeared completely above board.

But no one knew… what this box truly contained—

A formation that defied the Great Dao and inverted Yin and Yang.

"Rebirth of Yimu Array?"

"What's that?"

In the dining hall of the Great Void Sect, several disciples, including Cheng Mo, had heard the news—but were all puzzled.

"You idiot, it says Rebirth of Yimu Array—of course it's a formation."

"No duh, I know it's a formation. I'm asking what kind of formation would be worth a special reward from the Dao Court?"

"Sounds like a pretty ordinary one, to be honest."

"What grade is it?"

"Didn't say—just the name."

"Actually, I think my family has an old scroll with a formation by the same name…"

"Pfft, stop dreaming. Whatever your family has is probably trash."

"Formations can have the same name, you know.

The Dao Court's Rebirth of Yimu Array is definitely not on the same level as your family's bargain-bin version."

"Exactly. If it were some dime-a-dozen thing, it'd be embarrassing to offer it as a reward."

"Why give this kind of formation anyway? Wouldn't a sword array, killing array, or something like a Heaven-Earth-Man Three Talents Array make more sense?"

"They said they don't want you guys getting too bloodthirsty.

Besides, even if they gave you something like the Three Talents Array… would you dare learn it?"

"…That's fair."

"Still feels a bit strange though…"

The disciples chattered away.

Then Cheng Mo turned to look at Mo Hua and asked,

"Little Senior Brother, you're great with formations. Do you know what kind this is?"

Mo Hua furrowed his brow and shook his head.

"Rebirth of Yimu Array... sounds like a healing or restorative formation.

But formations are vast and complex. Lots of them have the same name.

Without seeing the actual diagram, I can't say for sure."

"Oh…" Cheng Mo nodded.

Everyone chatted for a bit longer but gradually lost interest.

Among the Sword Debate rewards, formations had the least appeal to them.

Cultivation techniques, Dao methods, supreme treasures, pills—those were far more useful.

Besides, only the champion would receive that reward.

To them, it was a prize far too distant.

So after a brief burst of interest, they quickly moved on.

But Mo Hua… was still quietly pondering that formation in his heart.

There was something about the Rebirth of Yimu Array… that felt deeply strange.

"Rebirth of Yimu Array"...

Yimu belongs to the Wood element in the Five Phases, and Rebirth (Huichun) indicates the array's function.

Based on basic formation logic, it should be a healing array.

Healing formations... Mo Hua had hardly studied them until now.

He'd dabbled in killing arrays, trapping arrays, sword formations, and even industry-type formations—but healing arrays were the one domain he'd barely touched.

Healing arrays were extremely rare, and very few formation diagrams had been passed down.

But that wasn't because they were too complex—it was because most healing-type formations had been... eliminated.

And the one responsible for replacing healing formations wasn't another array... it was alchemy.

With the growth of the cultivation industry and the refinement of alchemical techniques, most injuries and ailments that plagued cultivators could now be treated simply by concocting spiritual medicine or refined pills.

Most cultivators preferred pills over arrays—not only were they cheaper, but also faster and more convenient.

You're hurt? Just pop a pill. Why bother laboriously arranging a formation?

As a result, the situations where healing arrays were actually used became few and far between.

In fact, healing formations used to have their own classification—they were called "medical arrays."

Mo Hua had seen the term in old books on formation theory.

But since such arrays fell out of use, the term "medical array" had all but vanished.

And it was exactly this that puzzled Mo Hua.

This was supposed to be the top prize of the Sword Debate—why choose such a niche, obscure, and obsolete type of formation?

This question had been nagging at Mo Hua for a while now.

The phrase "Rebirth of Yimu" kept echoing in his mind, as if it carried some mysterious pull, constantly plucking at his heartstrings.

That evening, Mo Hua sat at his desk in the disciples' quarters. He tried to study his formation books, but once again found himself distracted by the same thought.

"Rebirth of Yimu Array… there's definitely something strange about it."

"But what exactly?"

No matter how much he mulled it over, he couldn't figure it out—but he also couldn't let it go.

In the end, he decided: he'd do a reading.

He didn't dare pry too deep—this was something from the Heavenly Pivot Pavilion of the Dao Court—but perhaps he could use a light touch, just "graze the surface" of its karmic ties.

He took out his divination coins, letting their energies flow.

He silently recited the name: "Rebirth of Yimu Array."

And in that very instant, his heart suddenly clenched tight.

In the haze before his eyes, an image began to appear:

—a tall, refined, and scholarly figure, with immortal grace and Daoist elegance.

This person stood proud between heaven and earth, sharp and piercing like a sword, exuding an air of unshakable arrogance.

Yet as he turned around, all the sharpness melted away. His expression softened; his brows carried a gentle smile. He looked at Mo Hua with deep fondness, full of reluctant warmth.

Mo Hua's heart trembled. He could hardly believe his eyes.

"Master…"

A pale yellow memory cloaked in karma flowed back to him.

He saw the days in Tongxian City, all the little moments.

He saw his master smiling gently at him.

He saw himself waiting outside the bamboo house, eager to ask about formations after his master had rested.

He saw himself with his senior brother and sister, doing homework beneath the old locust tree, while his master sat quietly in the bamboo house, watching them from afar…

He also saw the journeys they'd taken together, through wind and rain.

He saw their final parting within the Five Elements Sect—when the Demon Sword hung in the sky, and the Blood Banner blotted out the heavens.

He saw the final glance, and the lingering words of advice, heavy with reluctance.

A bitter ache welled up inside him.

Mo Hua's eyes grew moist.

A single tear fell silently down his cheek.

Who knows how much time passed before Mo Hua slowly came back to himself.

His gaze had sharpened.

"The Rebirth of Yimu Array… is linked to my master's karma…"

"Could this formation… save my master?"

His expression grew firmer and more resolute.

If that were true…

Then he had to obtain this array—no matter the cost.

Any obstacle in his path… would be flattened.

Any enemy in his way… even if they were the top prodigies of the Four Great Sects in Qianxue Prefecture—he would cut them down.

Mo Hua's eyes blazed with sword-light, brilliant and pure gold, radiating terrifying sharpness.

"This formation… will be mine!"

Meanwhile, far away in Dao Prefecture…

Within the Heavenly Pivot Pavilion—

The Elder, who had been dozing, suddenly stirred and opened his eyes.

He looked at a black chess piece in front of him.

From it burst forth a brilliant golden light, pure and dazzling, and faintly… the sound of a dragon's roar.

He let out a breath, a strange peace settling over him.

"So it's finally… taken the bait," he murmured.

Then, with a touch of awe:

"Seems like… it's even a true dragon…"

He stared at the black piece, at the golden light shimmering upon it, at the vague shape of a dragon curled inside it.

But as he kept looking… his expression suddenly changed.

Within that piece—though the form appeared to be a dragon—there was a vague and brutal aura coiled around it, trapping the dragon within.

"…No, this isn't a dragon."

The Elder froze.

His gaze grew deeper and deeper—until it shone with a chilling, ominous light.

(End of this Chapter)