Chapter 261: Clues

The bald monk relied on his agile body technique and ran rampant across Great Heishan, but he was captured solely because this disgusting Water Prison Art completely nullified his mobility.

The one who cast it had powerful spiritual sense and exquisite technique—fast and precise.

The bald monk had assumed this person, if not a Foundation Establishment cultivator, must be a Gu Diansi of Dao Ting Si, or an experienced Spirit Master.

He didn't kill him, but repeatedly trapped him with the Water Prison Art, playing with him like a cat with a mouse.

It was either personal grudge or the Dao Ting Si's bounty.

Over the years he had committed countless evils, accumulated countless karmic debts—anyone could want him dead.

But he never imagined the one playing him like a puppet was this brat?!

Where did this little monster come from?

The bald monk's gaze was both venomous and incredulous.

Mo Hua smiled at him. "Now do you know who I am?"

"I remember."

The bald monk twisted his lips into a bloody grin. "I've memorized your face—if I ever escape, I'll come back and kill you!"

Mo Hua remained unmoved: "Once you're in Dao Yu, sentenced to death, stop dreaming. Just accept your fate."

"If you really do escape, run as far as you can. Dare you come back for me? Looking for death?"

Mo Hua's tone was calm, his eyes holding a trace of contempt.

The bald monk flew into a rage, his face twitching, but had no retort.

He knew deep down the brat was right.

He couldn't escape this brat's grasp now—how much less so in the future?

Besides, in his impression, this brat moved with incredible agility, slippery as oil, and combined with his profound spiritual sense and precise, eerie Water Prison Art—

Killing him was hard; escaping him was even harder.

The bald monk thought for a moment, then sneered: "You came here to ask me something, didn't you?"

"Yes." Mo Hua didn't hide it.

The bald monk scoffed. "I'm trapped in your hands and want to kill you. Now I'm dead either way—why would I answer your questions?"

Mo Hua shrugged. "I'm just humiliating you. You don't have to answer—I'll ask someone else."

"By the way," Mo Hua added, as if remembering something, "I'll spread word that the infamous, notorious bald monk was defeated by a thirteen-year-old young cultivator, toyed with for hours by his spells, scurrying like a rat, dodging left and right but never escaping…"

The bald monk spat out a mouthful of blood. "You dare?!"

"What's there not to dare?"

"You're asking for trouble—other cultivators will come for revenge," the bald monk spat bitterly.

"You've already fallen into my hands—what about the others?"

Mo Hua clenched his right hand, forming a Water Prison, and smiled. "Then I'll just wait to fish—catch one, catch two; anyone who dares come after me won't get away."

The bald monk gritted his teeth. "I'm dead either way…"

"But dying isn't the end," Mo Hua added. "Think—if I spread this story, you'll become a joke. Dao Ting Si nearby, Beast Hunters, even other criminals will laugh at you."

"They'll mock you—call you a worthless fool who got beaten by a child, call you stupid, call you a pig-brain."

The bald monk coughed up blood continuously.

Mo Hua sighed. "See? Even after death, peace isn't guaranteed. If you're cursed for evil deeds, you might not care—but being mocked for stupidity and weakness? That's unbearable…"

As he spoke, Mo Hua's eyes lit up. "I almost forgot—I heard there's a Fushan Restaurant in town, with storytellers. I'll have them turn you into a tale, and have the storyteller recite it every day…"

The bald monk shouted: "Stop!" After a pause, he relented: "I'll talk…"

Mo Hua was still not satisfied. "I haven't finished yet…"

The bald monk snapped: "Ask! I'll tell you everything!"

He was willing to die—but not to become a laughingstock, mocked by these worthless cultivators!

The several officers holding the bald monk stared in stunned silence, their gazes at Mo Hua filled with shock.

Zhang Lan wasn't surprised, but he felt a deep sense of awe.

No wonder he'd been hanging around Elder Yu—his words were sharper than blades, fit to be used as torture.

Others kill with knives—you kill with words that pierce the soul…

Seeing the bald monk subdued, Mo Hua asked:

"Among the caravans you've robbed recently, were there any trading in pills?"

"Yes."

"How many pills?"

"Not many—just a few dozen vials. Their business is mixed; they don't specialize in pills."

Mo Hua and Zhang Lan exchanged glances, both startled.

That caravan, then, wasn't robbed by the bald monk.

"Do you know Kong Sheng?" Mo Hua asked next.

"Who's Kong Sheng?"

"The young master of the Kong family."

The bald monk sneered. "What kind of trash is the Kong family? Never heard of them."

Mo Hua fell silent—you criminals and the Kong family are equally rotten, yet you look down on each other…

"The Kong family's young master may have been killed by your gang."

"So what?"

Mo Hua asked: "Aren't you in trade with the Kong family?"

The bald monk coughed. "We criminals deal in spirit stones— whoever pays gets to call the shots. No spirit stones? Then no Kong family, no young master—annoy me, and I'll kill you anyway."

Mo Hua nodded, roughly understanding, then said:

"Let me ask you one last question — where does this map depict?"

Mo Hua took the map with its scrawled handwriting out of his storage bag and spread it open in front of the bald monk.

The bald monk suddenly raised his head, shock in his eyes. "You found the hidden compartment?"

"Yes."

The bald monk muttered, "How is that possible…"

Mo Hua said, puzzled, "Why wouldn't it be? That hidden compartment wasn't hidden very deep."

"The hidden compartment was inside a mountain cave, and outside the cave there was a formation…"

"I broke that formation." Mo Hua said it casually.

The bald monk faltered, nearly spitting blood. "How the hell are you still a formation master too?"

Then he understood too — no wonder his divine sense was so strong.

And the formations he had encountered were all drawn by this little brat himself.

Mo Hua, meanwhile, looked at the bald monk with an unfriendly expression.

He thought to himself that if the monk cursed again, he'd pull out the Thousand-Jun Staff and smash his mouth to pieces!

The bald monk dared not curse anymore. The corner of his eye twitched, and then his expression gradually turned despondent.

The mountain cave had been discovered, and all the wealth inside was gone.

That was the fortune he had accumulated over decades of killing and robbery. Even if he managed to escape by sheer luck now, he'd have nothing left at all.

Mo Hua waved the map in his hand again. "Can you tell me now?"

The bald monk was completely dead at heart.

At this point, there was nothing worth hiding anymore.

The bald monk sighed and said, "This map belonged to a good brother of mine back in the day…"

"We were both criminal cultivators — drank together, ate meat together, killed people together, and were both wanted by the Dao Ting Si."

"He treasured this map like a jewel. I wanted to borrow it to look at, but he wouldn't give it to me, so I poisoned his wine, took the chance to kill him, and seized the map."

"After killing him I regretted it. The map is scrawled, its direction unclear, I don't know what use it has. I studied it for decades and still had no clue. What pains me most is that, because of this broken thing, I lost a good brother…"

Mo Hua listened and was utterly speechless.