Immortality Through Array Formations (The Quest for Immortality)

Chapter 577: A Frightful Night

The deep mountains were steep and beautiful.

Fallen leaves had piled up into thick layers, rotting into the soil—soft underfoot.

A pale yellow miasma drifted between the mountains.

Milky-white mist curled through the forest.

A murmuring stream trickled by—its source unknown, its destination a mystery—soaking jagged rocks as it passed.

Mo Hua took a Miasma-Repelling Pill to dispel the toxins in his body. With his divine sense extended to guard against beasts, he cautiously followed the rugged mountain path northward.

He walked for most of the day. As the sun set, twilight cloaked the mountains, and the forest grew darker and more foreboding.

Looking up, Mo Hua saw that the night had grown thick with mist, and the miasma was heavier now, further blocking his divine sense.

Its range was less than half of what it had been in daylight.

Demonic aura in the mountains was also thickening.

Some nocturnal beasts—active at night, asleep during the day—were awakening. They let out eerie, strange howls that echoed low and mournful through the hills.

Mo Hua frowned.

No more traveling tonight...

He recalled the old man's mention of a ruined temple, and following his memory, released his divine sense to locate the place, then headed toward a hidden mountain trail.

After crossing a grove and climbing a giant rock, he walked for another half hour before finally spotting a rundown temple halfway up the mountain.

Though dilapidated, the temple held faint traces of human presence, as if passing cultivators sometimes rested there.

Even the surrounding miasma and demonic aura were thinner.

A rough and steep stone staircase led up to it.

Mo Hua ascended with his [Flowing Water Steps], moving lightly and swiftly, soon arriving at the temple gates.

One door was missing, the other weathered and warped from sun and rain.

Inside, the walls let the wind through, and the place was a mess.

Cold moonlight streamed through the rooftop gaps, illuminating a central clay statue with a ghostly pale glow—it looked sinister.

The statue's face was long, vaguely human, but not quite.

Its eyes, bathed in moonlight, seemed oddly eerie—staring through the darkness at Mo Hua, half-human, half-unreal.

Unfazed, Mo Hua opened his wide eyes and stared right back at the statue.

After a moment of staring, the moonlight shifted, and the statue's gaze… subtly turned away.

Mo Hua didn't let it go. He walked straight to the statue, his deep gaze fixed.

The statue instantly went back to being well-behaved and motionless.

Mo Hua hopped up onto the altar and examined it from all angles, muttering:

"That's not right. Why's there nothing here?"

"There should be something…"

"I couldn't have been mistaken…"

His face was full of doubt.

The statue's eyes had already lost their light—if they could, they probably would've shut completely.

Mo Hua licked his lips. "What a shame…"

Then he hopped down from the altar, cleared a spot on the floor, and used his divine sense to draw a Warmth-Fire Array.

The moment it lit up, orange flames rose, dispelling the chill of the mountain night from the temple.

Mo Hua wrapped himself in a small blanket, warming by the fire—feeling wonderfully cozy.

The warmth rising, his stomach growled. He pulled some mountain yams and dried meat from his storage ring and began roasting them over the array.

While roasting, he munched on soft, sweet yams, chewed spicy beef jerky, and sipped his mother's sweet, homemade fruit wine.

Mo Hua swayed back and forth happily, fully content.

After eating and drinking his fill, he extinguished the array, wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, and dozed off on the lingering warmth.

The temple fell silent.

Cold moonlight poured down again, lighting up the statue's eyes.

The clay statue's cold, dead gaze slowly lowered… falling upon Mo Hua—bundled up like a little rice dumpling, fast asleep, completely relaxed.

The statue's eyes flickered, as if deep in thought.

After a full cup of tea's time, a faint white light began to rise from the statue.

It was hazy and elusive—barely perceptible to the eye but clear to divine sense.

The light gradually stretched, forming a long, narrow human-shaped shadow.

It peeled itself from the clay statue—a humanoid form, but with a monster's face, narrow eyes, long whiskers, and a yellow, hairy body.

The ghostly shadow tiptoed forward with the howling wind, quietly approaching Mo Hua. It stretched out long, clawed fingers and spoke in a strange voice:

"Little one..."

"Turn around and look..."

"See who I am..."

It tried to weave its ghostly voice into Mo Hua's dream—so he'd wake in fright.

But before it finished speaking, the "sleeping" Mo Hua suddenly turned his head. Big eyes stared straight at it and asked:

"Who are you?"

The monster-faced shadow jumped in fright.

"You—you're not asleep?!"

Then it gasped again, "Wait—you can see me?!"

"Aren't you the one who wanted me to look at you?" Mo Hua replied, confused.

"N-no…" the shadow stammered, shaking its head rapidly. It had meant in the dream—for Mo Hua to see the monstrous nightmare it conjured, not literally see it in real life.

Now flustered, it panicked. What's going on with this kid?!

How can he see me?

Could it be… his divine sense is too strong?

Impossible—he's just a child! How strong could it be?!

"Who are you?" Mo Hua asked again.

The shadow snapped out of it, face twisted with anger, just about to speak—when Mo Hua's sharp, clear gaze bore into it. Even stranger, there was a faint glimmer of eerie insight, as if he could see right through it.

The shadow's heart trembled as Mo Hua calmly asked:

"You're the thing that was in that statue, right?"

"The Mountain God Temple's statue…"

"You're the Mountain God?"

"No… the old man down the mountain told me the Mountain God turned into an evil spirit and was already slain."

"So, you're a fake?"

"Human body, monster face, parasitizing a clay statue—you're neither man nor monster, but a divine remnant. Either a naturally born fiend… or a ghost-turned-wraith…"

The shadow's heart sank.

How does this brat know so much?!

How old is he? And he talks like he deals with monsters and ghosts every day…

The shadow's face twisted with malice. "Afraid now? Since you know, then you better—"

But it didn't finish.

A fireball came screaming toward its face.

Fast. Accurate. Flaming.

It soared straight into the shadow's head—but passed through it, exploding outside the temple, flames scattering and reducing some mountain rocks to ash.

The shadow blinked… then exploded with rage.

A fireball to the face?!

This little outsider was so rude!

Just like that, no warning? Straight to violence?!

Thankfully, it was a divine-sense form—spells made of spiritual power couldn't hurt it. But if it had been physical, that would've messed up its face!

"How dare you!!"

Furious, the ghostly shadow prepared to show this brat a thing or two about respect!

Teach him the rules of being a cultivator!

But Mo Hua wasn't even looking at it.

"Fireball doesn't work, huh…"

"Because it only harms spiritual power, not divine thought…"

"Evil intent… divine sense…"

Mo Hua muttered to himself, lost in thought.

Up until now, all his battles involving divine sense had been inside the Sea of Consciousness—there, spells and techniques manifested through thought could harm evil will.

But out here, beyond the mind's sea, he had little experience and wasn't sure what would work.

He just kept mulling it over.

The ghostly shadow fumed.

This brat! Arrogant to the core!

He didn't even consider it a threat.

He, a former mountain god, worshipped and revered—now reduced to being humiliated by a kid!

But this was his temple. His image was still worshipped here. His divine will remained solid.

As a being of pure divine thought—unaffected by blood, untouched by spells—he should've been practically unbeatable.

Originally, the monster had only intended to scare the brat away, thinking he was just a child.

But since the boy clearly didn't know what was good for him, then he had no choice but to use a little force—so the brat would understand just how dangerous the cultivation world could be…

The demon's eyes turned blood-red, and its aura exploded upward, surging rapidly. Its previously thin and bony form began to grow thicker and stronger. Hair sprouted along its limbs as it transformed into a giant "yellow weasel"—a Huang Pizi.

Mo Hua, however, wasn't afraid at all. In fact, he looked quite intrigued.

He'd seen people transform into ghosts, seen people turn into corpses, but this was his first time witnessing someone turn into a weasel...

The Huang Pizi stared at Mo Hua with a ferocious, murderous glint, clearly about to strike.

Mo Hua thought for a moment, then decided to strike first and gain the upper hand. He raised his hand and, using spirit ink and divine sense, drew a Golden Lock Formation at the weasel's feet.

A first-rank Golden Lock Formation was simple, so he completed it quickly.

As soon as the formation activated, golden chains burst forth, wrapping around the Huang Pizi's shadowy body.

The weasel struggled violently, breaking free after several tugs—but it was clearly startled.

"A formation?!"

"No brush, no paper—how did this brat set that up?!"

Mo Hua, on the other hand, nodded to himself.

Just as he'd expected.

The power of spells depended on spiritual power.

While formations were also powered by spiritual energy, they carried laws of the Dao and condensed divine sense.

And divine sense could counter divine intent.

That's why ordinary spells couldn't harm it—but formations, especially those embedded with spiritual will, could affect creatures like this bloodless, fleshless Huang Pizi.

Of course, formations outside the Sea of Consciousness were less effective than those composed entirely of divine sense inside it.

Still, as long as it worked, that was good enough.

And this was just a first-rank formation...

Mo Hua immediately pulled out several bottles of spirit ink, held his breath, focused his mind, and began using divine sense to construct a more complex formation...

Seeing the calm look on Mo Hua's face, the Huang Pizi began to panic.

Something felt… off.

This kid wasn't panicking, wasn't flustered—he just kept making moves, full of confidence.

The weasel couldn't see through him anymore.

Should I just give up?

But... how could a dignified mountain god lose to a kid and not be a laughingstock?

The Huang Pizi steeled itself and decided to force an attack on Mo Hua.

But before it got close, golden ink patterns lit up underfoot—three layers of Golden Lock Formations bound it tightly again.

The weasel thrashed and clawed, finally tearing through the chains.

Even though it was weakened, it could still handle first-rank formations.

But just as it escaped, it glanced down—and saw even more golden lock arrays activating under its feet.

The weasel was both shocked and afraid.

"What's with this brat…?"

"What kind of training did he go through? How can he paint formations like this?!"

If this keeps up, I'll never win…

The weasel hesitated.

Should I beg for mercy?

The idea had barely formed before it angrily shut it down.

I'm a proud mountain god! How could I beg a child for mercy?! I'd die from the shame alone!

I'll just stall him for now...

He's just a junior cultivator—sure, his divine sense is strong and his formation skills are good, but how long can he keep it up?

Once we're both drained, I'll fake a draw, call it even—no major loss to my pride.

But just as it had that thought, its eyelids twitched violently.

It suddenly realized—without noticing—it was surrounded by glowing red formation lines. Torrents of spiritual energy flowed within them, carrying a surge of divine will...

Second-rank formation!

Not just any second-rank formation—it was at least a 12- to 13-pattern killing formation of the second rank!

The Huang Pizi shuddered, eyes wide, and immediately tossed away its mountain-god pride, crying out:

"Little friend! Little friend!"

"Let's talk this out!"

Mo Hua ignored it and continued drawing.

The Huang Pizi grit its teeth and shouted again, "Young master! Ancestor! Please!"

"I'm begging you, stop drawing! One more line and I'm dead!"

It had barely managed to preserve its remnant form—if it got hit again, its soul would be obliterated!

Mo Hua stopped.

Not because he wanted to—but because… he physically couldn't go on.

His divine sense was strong, yes, but painting a high-difficulty 13-pattern Earthfire Formation using pure divine sense? That was a serious strain.

The Golden Lock Formations from earlier had already consumed a lot.

Now, even if he managed to finish the Earthfire Formation, his divine sense would be on the verge of collapse.

Besides, since the weasel had become so obedient, even calling him "ancestor", Mo Hua decided to be magnanimous and spare it for now.

He walked up and asked seriously:

"You were trying to hurt me?"

The weasel replied helplessly, "I only meant to scare you…"

Mo Hua frowned. "Why scare me for no reason?"

The Huang Pizi forced a bitter smile. "Your divine sense is strange. The moment you stepped in, you stared right at the mountain god statue—as if you saw something…"

"I was afraid you'd see through me and bring disaster upon me. I only wanted to frighten you into leaving early. I had no real malicious intent…"

"Oh…" Mo Hua half-believed, half-doubted.

Then he asked again, "Who are you?"

The weasel said, "I am the mountain god of this place."

Mo Hua raised an eyebrow. "Nonsense—the mountain god here was killed!"

The weasel quickly explained, "I wouldn't dare deceive you, little friend. I am that mountain god—my name is Lord Huang of the Mountain. I wore a yellow demon pelt, my surname is Huang, and as a mountain god, I was given the title 'Mountain Lord'..."

"Back when I was cultivating, I made a mistake. Evil thoughts grew in me, and that's why righteous cultivators struck me down…"

"But I had deep roots and survived by a thread."

"These years, I've stayed in this ruined temple, driving away miasma and warding off monsters, offering a safe haven to passing cultivators. I've even built up a little good karma…"

Translation:

"These past years, I've stayed in this broken temple, dispelling miasma and repelling monsters, offering a place for traveling cultivators to rest. I've managed to accumulate a little bit of good karma."

"Thanks to the offerings made to the mountain god statue, I've also received a trace of incense power."

"That trace condensed into this current remnant body of mine. But my strength is far from what it once was—barely clinging to life…"

Lord Huang sighed.

Mo Hua, seeing that he didn't seem to be lying, reluctantly believed him a little, but still sharply threatened:

"You better not be lying to me, or I'll eat you!"

Lord Huang froze for a moment—then couldn't help but chuckle.

Still a kid. Can't even threaten properly. I'm a being of divine will—how's he supposed to—

But then his smile froze. The moment the word "eat" was uttered, he felt a strange tug of karmic cause and effect, and his heart trembled violently.

"…What the—"

Can this little cultivator… actually eat me?!

No… maybe it's not the first time he's done it…

Lord Huang's mouth dropped open, his eyes filled with terror.

"What even is this little cultivator? Why is he more terrifying than me?!"

He wanted to slap himself.

Why was I so unlucky… why did I have to provoke this little disaster?!

If only he'd just pretended to be a dead statue when this little ancestor walked through the door!

Why did he have to peek at him?

That one glance nearly cost him his life…

Lord Huang was bitter to the core.

Meanwhile, Mo Hua was still scrutinizing him when he suddenly asked:

"I want to ask you a few questions."

Lord Huang immediately dropped his beastly form, revealing a humanoid form with hints of his original monster nature, and respectfully said:

"Please ask, young master."

Mo Hua asked, "Your body is made of divine sense—but are you considered a human, or a demon? Also, what is a mountain god exactly?"

"What counts as a 'god'?"

He fired off several questions in a row.

Lord Huang was a bit surprised.

He'd assumed the boy had immense talent, mastered divine sense techniques, and clearly came from a powerful lineage—but the questions he was asking were oddly mixed in depth.

The things he shouldn't know, he knew—and not just knew, but knew deeply.

But the things he should know, he seemed unaware of…

Did he inherit only fragments of a legacy? Or maybe his master only taught him half of what he should know…

Lord Huang guessed inwardly but dared not lie.

He was afraid this little cultivator was testing him—pretending to ask questions while secretly knowing the answers. If he said the wrong thing, he'd get "eaten."

The cultivation world was ruthless, after all…

So Lord Huang began:

"All beings of divine sense—whether cultivator's spirit, a ghost's lingering will, or a demon's twisted essence—are all types of illusory, intangible 'thought-bodies.'"

"Ghosts are one such form."

"When a cultivator reaches their end, dies, and their path is severed, their divine sense may remain and turn into a ghost."

"Ghosts and evil spirits often lose their rationality and mutate. They devour divine sense to survive—especially that of their close kin, which is particularly nourishing."

"'Gods' are also a type of thought-body."

"But becoming a god is extremely difficult. It involves things like the Dao, karma, worship, and incense offerings."

"I'm just a small mountain god—received a little incense, a bit of faith, and by chance obtained the title of a mountain god. As for the more profound aspects… I don't know."

"Especially…"

Lord Huang's face turned fearful. "They say there are primeval beings in this world—ancient and supreme demon gods, evil gods, and devil gods…"

"These existences cannot be seen or known. They're close to the 'Dao,' close to 'Immortality'…"

Mo Hua felt a chill.

This cultivation world… was even vaster, deeper, and scarier than he had imagined.

He looked at Lord Huang again and asked, confused:

"Mountain gods… are they on the righteous path? Are they good?"

Lord Huang gave an awkward smile. "Sort of… At the very least, I maintain clarity of mind, seek incense, accumulate karma, and hope for good results…"

"Then why did you go bad before? Even got yourself killed?" Mo Hua asked curiously.

It was like a dagger in Lord Huang's heart. He paused before reluctantly answering:

"That… sigh. In cultivation, mistakes are sometimes unavoidable…"

"I grew too comfortable as a mountain god. My divine sense hadn't improved in ages. Then wicked thoughts crept in, and I… I ate a few people…"

Mo Hua's gaze turned cold.

Lord Huang felt ice run through him and immediately corrected himself, "No—not me, I mean the old me…"

Mo Hua's face stayed stern. "So the old you wasn't still you?"

Lord Huang was nearly in tears. "I… I had evil thoughts. It split my will. I couldn't help it…"

"And then?"

"And then… after eating a few people, my divine sense got stronger—but also corrupted. Just as the old me was getting smug, a righteous sect nearby caught wind of it…"

"There was a sword cultivator in white, very powerful—he cut me down with one sword strike."

"After that, because of the good karma I'd accumulated earlier, a wisp of divine sense was preserved…"

"That sword cultivator said things like 'Heaven cherishes life,' and 'There must be life after death,' and 'Leave a thread of fate'—and he spared me."

"But he also warned me—if I ever did evil again, he'd come back and wipe me out completely."

"So, young master, I really wouldn't dare harm you…"

Lord Huang wished he could split open his heart and show it to Mo Hua to prove his sincerity.

"Mm-hmm." Mo Hua nodded, then suddenly thought of another question:

"You're a mountain god, a being of divine sense. How did the sword cultivator kill you with a sword?"

"That was…"

Recalling the memory, Lord Huang's eyes still carried deep fear.

"A sword… made of divine sense."

Mo Hua froze—then his eyes lit up.

Divine sense…

Turned into a sword!!

(End of Chapter)