Chapter 133: Searching for a Person

After Elder Yu finished speaking, he led everyone into Great Heishan.

At a camp near the outer mountain entrance, the group met up with Yu Chengyi.

Elder Yu asked: "How is it going?"

Yu Chengyi's clothes were damp from rain and dew, his face pale, brows tightly furrowed:

"The rain was too heavy—after one downpour, every trace in the mountains vanished. We have no idea where he went."

Elder Yu sighed deeply: "This is trouble."

Great Heishan is so vast—even just the outer mountains would take seven or eight days to cover thoroughly, and a meticulous search would take even longer.

If Old Zhao is fine, all's well; but if something truly happened to him, the odds are grim.

The beast hunters in the camp all wore gloomy expressions.

"Where did Uncle Zhao enter the mountains?"

A clear, youthful voice rang out from the crowd.

Everyone turned to look and saw Mo Hua behind Mo Shan.

Though Mo Hua was young, he was familiar with most of the beast hunters here; they all called him "Little Array Master," so no one dismissed him for his age.

Yu Chengyi quickly called Mo Hua over, unfolded a map, and pointed to a mountain path:

"Old Zhao entered through this mountain pass in the evening."

Mo Hua glanced at it, then closed the map and pulled out his own drawn map from his storage pouch.

When Mo Hua spread his map open, everyone stared, stunned.

The map was excessively detailed—it marked not only mountain paths, toxic swamps, and miasma zones, but also dots for spices, spirit herbs, and minerals.

At a glance, it was densely packed; if the paper weren't limited, Mo Hua probably would've recorded the exact number of trees in every grove and the shape of each one…

Mo Hua pointed to a spot on his map: "Is it here?"

Yu Chengyi nodded.

Mo Hua compared the map, located the nearest stone needle, then took out the compass marked with the South-Control Sub-Mother Array and studied it—his brow slowly furrowed.

Yu Chengyi's heart tightened: "What's wrong?"

Mo Hua tapped several spots on the map: "There was spiritual energy fluctuation here."

"What does that mean?"

"It means someone fought here!"

Everyone exchanged glances, momentarily stunned.

"You can tell that?" a beast hunter couldn't help asking.

Mo Hua nodded: "This is the South-Control Sub-Mother Array—I placed stone needles in the mountains. If there's spiritual energy fluctuation nearby, the compass shows it."

Everyone was startled; their gazes toward Mo Hua grew solemn.

Elder Yu's expression lightened slightly: "No time to waste—let's go now!"

No one delayed—they immediately set out. Mo Shan warned, "Be careful," then fell silent behind Mo Hua.

A cup of tea later, the group reached the spot Mo Hua indicated.

It was a small hillside: below lay a narrow mountain path, above stretched a forest, and to the right loomed a cliff.

Mo Hua found the stone needle—its array markings were dim and warped, distorted by intense spiritual energy.

"How is it?" Yu Chengyi asked, tense.

Mo Hua nodded: "Someone did fight here—and they weren't weak. The commotion was significant; there should be traces nearby."

Yu Chengyi ordered: "Spread out. Search the area."

Soon, someone shouted: "Over here!"

Everyone rushed over and saw the ground's rocks were spattered and shattered, some trees snapped mid-trunk, and on the adjacent cliff face, a diagonal palm print remained—faint earth-element spiritual energy lingered within it.

Yu Chengyi looked and said: "Mountain-Splitting Palm—this is Old Zhao's."

Mo Shan stepped forward, wiped his finger across the cliff, brought it to his nose, sniffed, then his gaze turned cold:

"There's blood here—washed away by the rain."

Everyone's expressions turned solemn.

Elder Yu asked Mo Hua: "Any other traces?"

Mo Hua studied the compass and saw many dots had dimmed—or vanished. He shook his head:

"Too much time has passed. The spiritual energy fluctuations are too faint to distinguish."

The South-Control Sub-Mother Array has a time limit: when the fluctuation first occurs, the dots glow brightly; over time, they fade until they disappear.

Elder Yu and the others frowned.

Mo Hua felt anxious, then suddenly had an insight:

"Uncle Yu, when exactly did Uncle Zhao enter the mountains?"

Yu Chengyi thought: "Around mid-you hour—about an hour has passed."

Mo Hua's eyes brightened slightly—he had an array master's memory. He'd glanced at the compass before eating; though he hadn't memorized it, fragments still lingered in his mind.

He unfolded the map and marked several more points.

"These spots likely had battles after the you hour—but they might not have been Uncle Zhao. They could be other cultivators or beasts. And these points aren't necessarily precise…"

"No matter," Elder Yu said. "Having a direction is better than wandering aimlessly."

Elder Yu patted Mo Hua's shoulder: "You've done all you can. If we still can't find him, it's just Old Zhao's bad luck."

Mo Hua nodded, his spirits low.

"Any other clues?" Elder Yu asked.

Mo Hua studied the map again, then drew several lines across it.

"There have been spiritual energy fluctuations along these paths—search carefully."

Elder Yu's gaze sharpened, and the hearts of the other beast hunters rose in tension.

Continuous spiritual energy fluctuations mean continuous combat—that means he's been chased all the way!

Was the one chasing him a beast, or a cultivator…?

Elder Yu's expression turned solemn, and he declared decisively:

"Split up: teams of three for the small paths, five for the larger ones, and at least ten per route. Stay safe. If you find anything, blow your whistle."

Elder Yu gave the order, and the beast hunters moved with swift precision, vanishing into the surrounding darkness in an instant.

Elder Yu added to Mo Hua: "Stay with your father. Don't get separated."

"Mm." Mo Hua nodded.

Night gradually fell, and the group searched Great Heishan after the rain for the missing beast hunter.

An hour later, they found more signs of battle—even fragments of vine armor—but still no trace of the man.

Mo Hua marked all the battle sites on the map.

Then he stared at the map, frowning in thought.

Signs of combat, being chased all the way—he must be badly wounded. He couldn't have gone far. He should be near these mountain paths on the map.

But with so many people searching, why hadn't they found him?

If alive, they should find him. If dead, they should find his body…

Confused, Mo Hua asked Mo Shan, who stood behind him: "Father, how do you search for people?"

"How do I search?"

"Like… do you use your spiritual sense?"

Mo Shan thought a moment, then said: "Use your eyes to see traces, your ears to listen for sounds, your nose to smell blood. Spiritual sense is only for basic perception."

Searching this way didn't seem wrong…

Mo Hua nodded, then suddenly realized: what if he ignored his five senses and relied solely on spiritual sense?

Mo Hua's eyes lit up. He closed them and extended his spiritual sense.

Around him, everything turned a hollow white.

In the night, the rocks, trees, streams, and cultivators lost their outlines and original colors, becoming faint spiritual energy shadows.

The spiritual energy shadows of all things in heaven and earth were mostly pale blue; the spiritual energy shadows of cultivators varied in color according to their elemental affinity and the nature of their cultivation art.

In spiritual sense, all things had clear boundaries.

Mo Hua further shut out his five senses and pushed his spiritual sense to its limit.

The range of his perception expanded further, and the spiritual energy shadows became sharper.

"Nothing…"

Mo Hua opened his eyes, walked to the next fork, closed them again, and extended his spiritual sense.

Mo Shan didn't know what Mo Hua was doing, but he didn't interrupt—only silently followed behind his son.

"Nothing."

"Nothing…"

Mo Hua kept walking, kept extending his spiritual sense. After crossing several cliffs, he suddenly stopped.

Mo Shan's heart tightened—he saw Mo Hua suddenly open his eyes and point toward a nearby cliff:

"Someone's there!"

Mo Shan and several nearby beast hunters immediately leapt forward, parting the undergrowth and shining their torches.

Hanging from branches beneath the cliff was Old Zhao—barely alive.