Chapter 289: Wrapping Up

The scar-faced man had been feigning death, but was suddenly struck by Mo Hua's club, letting out a pained groan.

But he had been wounded by the Third Boss's claw, his injuries severe, his breath faint; facing Mo Hua, he had no strength to resist, and even after enduring Mo Hua's Thousand-Jin Club strike, he could only endure it.

"Brat, how did you figure it out?"

The scar-faced man gritted his teeth in pain, his mind filled with confusion.

His Turtle-Breath technique, which allowed him to hold his breath and feign death, was stolen from an old evil cultivator.

That old evil cultivator used this technique to escape danger countless times, surviving repeatedly, which is how he lived to old age.

This Turtle-Breath method is exceedingly obscure; few cultivators can detect its flaw—even the Third Boss hadn't noticed it at first.

He couldn't understand: this brat was so young, his experience shallow—how could he see through his deception?

Mo Hua snorted coldly, but had no intention of answering him.

His spiritual sense had now broken its limit, reaching the Foundation Establishment realm.

As for that Third Boss.

Mo Hua considered it with "kindness."

"You big beast—even as a ghost, I'll never let you go!"

That big ghost wasted words with me, just to lower my guard, sabotage my array, and let me struggle—so I'd die utterly!

"Change what?"

But I know deep down—that big ghost means to kill me!

Mo Hua ignored him, lost in his own calculations.

The scar-faced man sneered: "The cultivation world is all about the strong devouring the weak. Your naivety and innocence won't let you survive—you'll die without a grave sooner or later…"

"Exactly what did you do to offend me? Say it clearly, so you die with full understanding."

Without waiting for the scar-faced man to reply, Mo Hua raised the Thousand-Jin Club and brought it down again with crushing force.

The scar-faced man's eyes bulged with rage: "Damn you, you're so cruel!"

Now, those evil cultivators will never find him again.

The tiny amount of spiritual energy he could still recover was utterly useless now.

He had uncovered the contemplation diagram, devoured the Green-Faced Ghost, and refined its spiritual thought.

Mo Hua smiled brightly. "No."

But his realm is Gao Wei, his cultivation boundless—what he can do now is only this.

"Just wait peacefully for death!"

A demon hunter's essential training is recognizing demonic beasts feigning death—how could he be fooled by this crude Turtle-Breath technique?

"I've done good deeds in past lives, never practiced evil arts, never committed wicked acts!" the scar-faced man hurriedly said.

After squeezing out the juice, Mo Hua tossed all the remaining Demon-Stink Grass onto the scar-faced man's body and said:

"If you're a man, I'll let you die with a whole body; if you're a ghost, I'll still scatter your soul!"

Mo Hua thought for a moment, took a handful of Demon-Stink Grass from his storage pouch, squeezed out the juice, and dripped it onto the scar-faced man's body, continuing:

He struggled to rise, but suddenly realized—when had that big ghost already set up an array around him, pinning him in place?

Mo Hua pondered a moment, then nodded with satisfaction: "To recognize one's fault and change is great virtue."

"Really?"

The living suffer endless torment, yet even death is a luxury.

"In the end, they're all excuses for selfishness."

Most importantly, he's not a demon hunter—he has no experience detecting feigned death.

The scar-faced man grew furious.

Mo Hua did not answer the scar-faced man's words; instead, he raised the Thousand-Jin Club, activated the array, and shattered each of the scar-faced man's limbs one by one.

"Remember this well…"

Mo Hua said: "This is Demon-Stink Grass. Its stench will attract demons to come and devour you."

Once demons arrive, he will die without doubt!

"And now, the one without a grave is you…"

Seeing the scar-faced man still babbling as death approached, Mo Hua swung another club blow to his face.

"I let you die without confusion—that's less trouble," Mo Hua said.

The scar-faced man's eyes lit up: "Then will you spare my life?"

The scar-faced man felt utter despair, glaring fiercely at Mo Hua, his expression twisted with hatred:

The scar-faced man's thoughts shifted rapidly, then sneered: "You're not trying to be a righteous hero, right? To right wrongs?"

The scar-faced man couldn't understand, gritting his teeth:

After finishing these deeds, Mo Hua sighed, his mood sinking again.

Mo Hua knocked him unconscious to prevent him from screaming—also sparing him the torment of witnessing his own death.

The scar-faced man passed out; when he wakes, he'll see himself being devoured by demons, truly experiencing "the strong devour the weak."

He should have never met that big ghost before—there should be no grudge between them.

"If I break this vow, may thunder strike me down!" the scar-faced man swore.

The scar-faced man's eyelid twitched—this big ghost spoke irrationally; he couldn't fathom what the man was thinking, what he intended to do, not even sensing any murderous intent.

After staying so long in Shanzhai, enduring so many trials, now that all his tasks were done, he could finally go home.

The scar-faced man smelled a foul stench on his body and cried out in alarm: "What are you doing?"

Although his spiritual energy flowed slowly, it was not stagnant—tiny fluctuations in his spiritual energy were crystal clear to Mo Hua's spiritual sense, so he couldn't deceive him.

"Truly! I've always eaten vegetarian, done good deeds, never committed any act against the Dao!"

"When he's the weak one and wants to oppress the strong, he says 'the strong devour the weak'; when he's the strong one and is oppressed by the weak, he says 'the Dao is perfectly fair'."

The scar-faced man was about to curse again, but Mo Hua hadn't finished handling his affairs—do you think I have patience to waste words with you?"

Nearby, a few night-active beastlings, drawn by the stench of rotting demon herb and the metallic tang of human blood, greedily hurried toward the forest.

And he's a Demon Hunter.

I thought again of the man who took his own life in the night.

"Cruel?"

"Great Ghost, did he have a grudge or enmity with you? Why did you slaughter him utterly?"

"Grudge or enmity?" Mo Hua raised an eyebrow and brought down another blow with his club.

The scar-faced man's eyes filled with terror.

The scar-faced man froze.

Why?

Now Mo Hua's spiritual sense rivals that of a Foundation Establishment cultivator—within the Deep Mountains, who could pierce my concealment technique?

The torment and despair the man endured after death, I'll now let that scar-faced man experience too.

Mo Hua's face showed no expression: "Really?"

Mo Hua picked up the Thousand-Tael Club and walked beside the scar-faced man, looking down upon him.

Mo Hua ignored him.

And along that path, I won't have any more reservations.

"The men he drained to death, the cultivators you slashed to death—did they have any grudge or enmity with him? Didn't he still slaughter them utterly?"

"Guess."

The scar-faced man gritted his teeth and laughed bitterly, "I drain others, I kill others—what's it to you?"

Once we leave Great Baishan Village, it's like a fish entering the sea.

Second, he trusted his own cultivation—he believed that with his own hands, the scar-faced man would surely die without doubt.

After all, the waiting after death is the most delightful part.

"The strong devour the weak—it's nothing but a lie told by deceivers..."

"What nonsense are you spouting?"

Mo Hua snorted: "When you harm others, you don't think yourself cruel; when others harm you, you complain they're cruel. That's not right—favoring one side over another."

Seeing this, the scar-faced man thought there was a chance—he immediately said:

The scar-faced man, already beyond words, spat in hatred:

"Big brother... no, Great Dao Master, spare me—I'll surely change from now on."

He failed to detect the scar-faced man's feigned death because his mind was entirely focused on Mo Hua, neglecting his perception.

Knowing his end was near, the scar-faced man felt fear, rolled his eyes, and softened again:

That blow, unleashed with all his strength, heavy and crushing, utterly smashed the scar-faced man into unconsciousness.

"You said 'the strong devour the weak,' so let me let you experience the taste of being 'devoured' as a strong one. See if you'll still say that afterward..."

Mo Hua began drawing a formation on the ground, answering casually at the same time.

"Oh, by the way." Mo Hua suddenly remembered, then added, "You probably won't have a past life... then let's say your next life—if you're lucky enough to be reborn as a human."

That Great Ghost is mocking me!

Mo Hua put away the Thousand-Tael Club and nodded slightly.

The real Green-Faced Great Ghost was already "eaten" by me—why should I fear a fake ghost like you, who can't even become a human, let alone a ghost?

Mo Hua's spiritual sense had already detected those few beastlings.

"I'm lying to you? 'Knowing your fault and correcting it is the greatest virtue'—that's nonsense too. How can you correct something so vile? Even a dog can't stop eating shit."

He calmly activated his concealment technique, hiding his form, then used the Flowing Water Step and sprinted toward a direction with no beastlings and no Second Boss.

His indifferent, unmoved demeanor left the scar-faced man helpless.