Chapter 140

Amid the cultivator's cries of pain, Zhang Lan and the other two regarded Mo Hua with even more complex expressions.

Mo Hua placed Zhang Lan's sword on the ground and wiped it, but the bloodstains remained, untouched.

Zhang Lan sighed, helplessly took back the sword, and returned it to its scabbard.

"Alright, now it's done. Let's head back."

Mo Hua led the way again, while Zhang Lan and the other two took turns dragging the cultivator down the mountain path.

As for whether the cultivator would be jolted to death, they didn't care.

If he survives the bouncing, it's luck; if he dies, he deserves it.

Along the path, Sister Situ couldn't help praising:

"Mo Hua, your body technique is amazing!"

She had watched from the side earlier and had broken into a cold sweat.

Seeing Mo Hua evade every attack from the cultivator, she felt a sigh of relief and couldn't help but admire him.

Mo Hua felt delighted inside, but still replied modestly:

"Nowhere near that. Just average."

"Who taught you?" Sister Situ asked.

Zhang Lan coughed several times.

Mo Hua glanced at him, then said plainly: "A passing, nameless, kind uncle taught me…"

Sister Situ frowned. "There are people like that?"

She thought for a moment, then whispered to Zhang Lan: "Looking at it, doesn't it resemble your Zhang family's Flowing Water Step?"

Zhang Lan choked, coughed again, and after a long pause managed to recover, urgently saying:

"Don't smear someone's good name! What Flowing Water Step? Where's the resemblance?"

Sister Situ nodded. "Actually, it doesn't seem quite like it—your Zhang family's Flowing Water Step isn't that impressive anyway."

Zhang Lan was offended again. "How isn't it impressive? This is…"

Sister Situ looked at him.

Zhang Lan's tone weakened.

"It's… slightly more impressive than our Zhang family's Flowing Water Step."

Zhang Lan himself was confused.

The Zhang family had two body techniques: Falling Petals and Flowing Water—one was Falling Petals Step, the other Flowing Water Step.

He primarily trained in Falling Petals Step, but he knew Flowing Water Step too, and had seen other Zhang sect cultivators use it—but none used it as…

As effortlessly, as elusive, and with a touch of cunning and strangeness…

"How exactly did I teach him?"

Zhang Lan frowned, struggling to recall, muttering to himself:

"Did I teach him Flowing Water Step? Yes, I must have…"

While Zhang Lan was lost in chaotic thoughts, Mo Hua heard a faint whisper: "Thank you."

He turned his head and saw Shi Xiù's eyes flickering, yet her expression stubborn.

She wanted to thank him, but felt too embarrassed, so her voice was as quiet as a mosquito's buzz.

When climbing up, she had been confident and arrogant, had suffered several wounds and shed much blood—now she looked far more composed.

Mo Hua nodded, feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction.

Indeed, a boy who endures setbacks grows.

He forgot that he himself was even younger, not even a boy yet.

As they walked along the mountain path, Zhang Lan remained preoccupied with the Flowing Water Step.

He replayed in his mind, over and over, the scene of Mo Hua dueling the cultivator.

He carefully compared Mo Hua's Flowing Water Step with his own memory of it.

The basic footwork was identical, but every movement and shift was far more refined, and some motions were simpler, eliminating unnecessary actions—it looked like he'd learned something else…

Why? The movements were nearly the same, yet the impression was completely different.

Zhang Lan thought, then suddenly realized: "Is it spiritual sense…?"

Because his spiritual sense was strong enough, his qi control was exquisitely precise, making his body technique more ethereal, delicate, and varied.

Zhang family cultivators were poor at arrays and lacked strong spiritual sense, so they never grasped the essence of this body technique, and thus found it mediocre.

"Oh no!" Zhang Lan's heart turned cold.

When he taught Mo Hua the body technique, he assumed Mo Hua would just learn it superficially, never well.

That way, even if he used it, others would glance and forget.

A child born with weak constitution—how good could his body technique possibly be?

But now, not only had Mo Hua mastered it, he'd mastered it to an absurd degree—even better than Zhang family disciples…

In the future, if Mo Hua ever gained fame, people would see him and say:

"That's the Zhang family's Flowing Water Step—he uses it better than the Zhangs themselves!"

Where would the Zhang family save face then?

Zhang Lan had unintentionally added another black mark to his clan's history.

Zhang Lan's scalp prickled.

Being punished himself was one thing—but bringing shame to the family? That was no longer just kneeling before the ancestral hall or being locked in confinement.

While Sister Situ and the other were distracted, Zhang Lan quietly tugged Mo Hua's sleeve, with a solemn expression:

"Absolutely! Absolutely! Absolutely—don't say I taught you!"

Mo Hua's small face turned serious as he patted his chest and promised:

"Don't worry—I won't turn you in!"

Zhang Lan nodded, then suddenly realized something was off.

What do you mean, "turn you in"? … It makes me sound like your criminal accomplice…

As the group reached halfway, they stopped on a small hill to rest.

Mo Hua took out beef and shared it with everyone.

He didn't give any to the cultivator of evil— he wasn't worthy to eat his mother's cooking.

As Zhang Lan ate the beef, savory and spicy, he couldn't help but reflect:

"Mo Hua's family beef is truly excellent—tender yet chewy, the cooking skill is masterful…"

Then Zhang Lan froze, suddenly remembering: Mo Hua had just used a fireball spell?

The power was average, but the speed of release seemed unusually fast…

At least much faster than his own spells.

Zhang Lan gave Mo Hua a long, thoughtful look.

He had assumed Mo Hua's spiritual energy was weak, so his spells couldn't possibly be refined—but now, he wasn't so sure…

With the Flowing Water Step combined with such fast, precise fireball spells, Zhang Lan found the prospect daunting.

After eating, the group continued on their way.

Before dusk, they reached the foot of Great Heishan.

Mo Hua remembered something and walked up to the evil cultivator, who was awake; he asked:

"A few days ago, did you chase a beast-hunting cultivator in the mountains?"

The evil cultivator snorted and said nothing.

"I'm asking you a question."

The evil cultivator gave Mo Hua a look of contempt.

Mo Hua's temper flared—he turned to draw Zhang Lan's sword from his waist.

Zhang Lan jumped back, blocking him: "What are you doing?"

Mo Hua said: "He's stubborn—I'll break another leg!"

Sister Situ whispered: "That's enough—you've already broken one."

Mo Hua replied: "I've only broken one—there are still two left!"

Sister Situ hesitated: "If you break them all, he'll probably die."

Mo Hua sighed: "Then it's just his bad luck."

At once, the evil cultivator blurted:

"Ask me anything—I'll answer!"

Mo Hua froze.

Why did this evil cultivator suddenly become so cooperative?

The evil cultivator's eyelids twitched.

He wasn't afraid of death.

He could be killed by enemies, drained dry, sentenced by Dao Ting Si, or executed in the cruelest ways.

No matter how a cultivator killed him, he didn't care.

But he could never die at the hands of a ten-year-old brat!

To be slain by a mere Qi Refinement Fifth Layer brat—this humiliation he could not bear!

"Then speak," Mo Hua said.

"It wasn't me who chased him."

"And then?"

"That's all."

Mo Hua said slowly: "You say it wasn't you who chased him—that means someone else did, and you saw them."

The evil cultivator fell silent.

Mo Hua moved again to draw his sword; the evil cultivator hurriedly added:

"Several cultivators were chasing him."

"What did they look like?"

"Their faces were unclear, but they wore silver-white Dao robes."

Mo Hua's gaze sharpened—silver-white…