Chapter 271: Asking for Directions

Between the cliffs, on an invisible path, Mo Hua walked with utmost care.

After a cup of tea's time, Mo Hua finally reached the opposite side.

Climbing onto the opposite cliff, the instant his feet touched ground, the mist around him thickened abruptly, the miasma intense, making his head spin.

Mo Hua quickly pulled out two Spirit-Repelling Pills and swallowed them, then channeled his Qi to metabolize the medicinal power, only then feeling somewhat relieved.

He looked around and realized he was in a small grove, with no one in sight.

Aside from the heavier mist and stronger toxins, it was no different from the Inner Mountains.

"Where are those criminal cultivators? Could they not be here?"

Mo Hua muttered to himself.

Mo Hua cautiously wandered about for a while, discovering that sunlight was blocked by the thick fog, the forest dim and hazy, and he could no longer tell direction—had no idea where he was.

Most crucially, there was not a single trace of any cultivator.

Mo Hua sat on the ground, feeling lost.

Had he guessed wrong?

That shouldn't be…

Mo Hua thought for a moment, then suddenly felt something odd.

On the other side of the cliff, sunlight was bright, and the fog was light then—yet here, on the Shenshan side, past a stone path, why was the mist so dense?

The sunlight on both sides was nearly identical; logically, even if the mist were heavier, it shouldn't be this thick.

Mo Hua extended his spiritual sense and examined closely—suddenly furrowed his brow.

Within the mist, faint Qi interwove like patterns, coagulating around him.

Ordinary cultivators might not notice, but Mo Hua saw at a glance: these were array markings drawn by an Array Master!

Mo Hua suddenly understood.

The fog in Shenshan had never been this thick—it was the Array Master's technique causing it, making the fog dense enough to blind even at arm's length.

Mo Hua's spirits lifted; he followed the array markings to a large tree, pulled out a dagger, and carved into its bark.

The dry bark split open, and inside, sure enough, lay a complete array.

The array had nine markings—a first-grade array, primarily water-elemental, with slight variations in brushwork and unfamiliar structure.

Mo Hua had never seen it before, but guessed it must be a Fog Array.

Its function was to condense moisture, causing it to hover over the ground and among the trees, forming persistent fog.

Mo Hua found it novel; seeing no one around, he took out paper and ink and carefully copied the array, stroke by stroke.

Generally, learning an array is best done with an array diagram.

Array diagrams contain detailed schematics: brush order, ink ratios, array-marking types, array-core structure, and other notes.

Reverse-engineering an array's drawing method from an existing one is difficult.

But however difficult, it was still just an ordinary first-grade array; the markings were unusual, yet still within the Five Elements framework—nothing significant to Mo Hua.

After drawing it five or six times, Mo Hua grasped most of it—he had a clear sense of it now.

The fog could deceive, but the array was fixed—it could not deceive, especially not Mo Hua.

Not just inside this tree bark, but scattered across the ground, rocks, and thickets around him, were fragments of this same array.

Based on the positioning of the Fog Array, he could roughly deduce the path through the fog.

With this realization, Mo Hua's mind cleared instantly.

He needed not concern himself with the fog—so long as he used the Fog Array as a landmark, he would not lose his way.

The Array Master who laid this Fog Array intended to use the fog to confuse direction.

But the Fog Array he laid down instead helped Mo Hua find his path.

Mo Hua put away his paper and ink, extended his spiritual sense, sensed the positions of the Fog Arrays, and began walking deeper into Shenshan.

After a few steps, Mo Hua suddenly thought: if others could lay arrays, so could he.

In his storage pouch were still some stone needles inscribed with the Si Nan Zi Array—leftover from the Inner Mountains—perfect to plant along the way.

If anything unexpected happened, he'd be warned in advance.

Preparation ensures success; lack of preparation leads to failure.

Having a plan ready is always better than being caught off guard in danger.

Mo Hua walked along the direction of the Fog Arrays, and as he went, casually planted Si Nan Stone Needles in concealed spots.

As he walked, Mo Hua gradually grew familiar with the path through the fog forest.

Yet after half a day, he still saw no trace of the criminal cultivators.

Mo Hua frowned—had he overlooked something? Or were these criminals hiding too well?

Should he return for now, and come back later?

As he hesitated, footsteps suddenly reached his ears.

Mo Hua's heart leapt; seeing no rocks or deep vegetation nearby to hide behind, he took three steps in one, used the Flowing Water Step, and leapt straight up onto a nearby large tree.

Once settled on the branch, Mo Hua realized he had already activated his Concealment Technique—ordinary Qi Condensation cultivators could neither see nor sense him with spiritual sense.

Still, better safe than sorry—caution never hurts.

What if the approaching person was a Foundation Establishment cultivator?

The footsteps drew nearer; through the fog, two human silhouettes faintly appeared, accompanied by muffled voices.

"Brother… this is the right path, right? You're not lying to me?"

"Relax, it's correct."

"This fog's damn thick… we've been walking half a day…"

"If the fog weren't thick, wouldn't we be spotted?"

"... Can we get in?"

"What? Don't you trust me?"

When they drew closer, he saw two cultivators—one fat, one thin—both at the late Qi Refining stage.

Mo Hua exhaled in relief; as long as they weren't Foundation Establishment, it was fine.

Qi Refining cultivators, even if they spotted his concealment technique, could still be dealt with.

Besides, Qi Refining cultivators, unless they possessed a Foundation Establishment's spiritual sense, couldn't possibly detect his concealment technique.

Mo Hua studied them more closely; the mist blurred their faces, but their robes differed, one voice was shrill, the other careless, and their movements were furtive—they were surely no good.

"Could they be criminal cultivators?"

Mo Hua's eyes lit up; if they were criminal cultivators, there might be a lead.

Even if they weren't from Shenshan, they must know the paths within Shenshan.

The fat and thin cultivators walked side by side; Mo Hua slipped quietly down from the tree and followed them stealthily behind.

They chatted all the way, utterly unaware they were being followed.

The two cultivators wandered through the misty forest, occasionally checking maps, pointing out mountain trails; after turning several Shankou, they stopped before a large tree stump.

"Is this it?" asked the thin cultivator.

"Correct," nodded the fat cultivator.

"What now?"

"Wait."

"Wait for what?"

"Wait for midnight, the third watch."

Mo Hua's heart leapt—he suddenly recalled those words:

At midnight, the third watch, cast your head to ask the way.

It seemed they were outsiders, seeking to join the criminal cultivators of Shenshan.

Mo Hua frowned; did he have to wait with them until then?

Time was running late; he wanted to return early.

But he'd come this far—if he didn't follow them, the lead would vanish, and he'd never get another chance.

"Wait then..."

Mo Hua patiently waited.

Near noon, the fat and thin cultivators grew bored and hungry, pulling out dried rations to eat.

The thin one ate a few bites, then spat out in disgust:

"Dry and hard as birdshit—damn hard to swallow!"

The fat cultivator glanced at him coolly. "At least you've got something to eat. Or do you want to go to Dao Ting Si and eat prison gruel?"

The thin cultivator chuckled. "I won't eat prison gruel for long—probably just a few meals before I get the executioner's meal."

The fat cultivator shook his head.

The thin cultivator suddenly asked, "Brother, how many lives have you taken?"

The fat cultivator thought a moment, then raised an eyebrow. "Just..."

The thin cultivator raised his thumb. "You're impressive, brother—I've only got four."

He began counting: "An old man over a hundred, a thirty-something cultivator, a female cultivator, and her child."

The fat cultivator blinked in surprise. "You count the child?"

"If I didn't, it'd only be three—I'd be ashamed to face you, brother."

"No matter," the fat cultivator slapped his shoulder. "Follow me into Shenshan—you'll eat well, drink well, have everything you want, and no one will look down on you."

The thin cultivator beamed. "Then I rely on Big Brother!"

The fat cultivator pulled a bundle from his robe—dried meat and a flask of wine.

"I saved this specially. We met by fate, escaped Dao Ting Si's hounds, traveled thousands of miles to reach Shenshan—now hardship ends, sweetness begins. Worth celebrating."

The thin cultivator's eyes gleamed. "Big Brother thinks of everything."

They split the meat, drank the wine; the meal wasn't filling, the wine wasn't enough—but they were content.

After eating, the fat cultivator noticed it was the third watch of noon—he suddenly frowned and pointed.

"There's something by that stump."

The thin cultivator, slightly drunk, frowned in confusion and stood to investigate.

The fat cultivator slipped silently behind him and, catching him off guard, thrust his sword clean through his chest.

As the thin cultivator puzzled, sudden pain pierced his chest—he looked down and saw the sword tip protruding from his front, his heart-meridian pierced; then the blade withdrew, and blood gushed forth.

He slowly turned, face filled with disbelief.

The fat cultivator's expression was cold. "Good brother, this meal of wine and meat? It's your executioner's meal."

The thin cultivator's eyes blazed with grief and fury—he struggled, but the fat cultivator seized his throat, shoved him against the stump, and sliced off his head with one stroke.

The head rolled away, blood splattered the ground, staining the fat cultivator's robes.

The fat cultivator didn't care.

"We were brothers. You drank my wine, ate my meat—I borrow your head for a moment. That's not too much, is it?"

He stepped forward, grabbed the still-open-eyed head, and hurled it toward the dark, distant mountain wall.

The head struck the ground with a thud—and the mountain wall vanished.

A bloody, sinister mountain gate appeared, bearing three ancient characters:

Great Heishan Shanzhai.

Thank you to An Ye Xing Chen for the reward~

This book isn't a survivalist cultivation novel.

The protagonist will act cautiously, but not for caution's sake.

If there's something that needs doing, even if it's difficult or carries some risk, the protagonist will strive to do it.

In a few days there will be a recommendation, and then I'll post more.

Finally, thank you all for your support, and I wish you all happiness every day~