Chapter 429: Corpse Blood Pill

Sister Situ led the Dao Ting Si enforcers into the back courtyard of the Hundred Flowers Pavilion.

Moments later, spiritual energy surged everywhere, mingling with the sounds of combat, screams, shouts, and collapsing structures.

Mo Hua was curious, thought for a moment, then said to Sister Qinglan:

"Find a place to hide, and don't come out under any circumstances."

Sister Qinglan looked nervous but nodded.

Then Mo Hua and the other two used their body techniques to reach the second floor and peered out the window toward the back courtyard.

The Hundred Flowers Pavilion consisted of two buildings, front and back, with a courtyard between them.

The front building housed the main hall, used for banquets, wine, and female cultivators dancing and singing; the back building contained private rooms, serving as a brothel.

In the center of the back building was a courtyard with hills, water, and blooming flowers.

The courtyard was spacious and picturesque.

Behind the courtyard stood the back building, surrounded on three sides by tall towers.

The upper corridors connected the towers, the private rooms were exquisitely crafted, and red lanterns and pink curtains hung between the corridors, heavy with the scent of cosmetics.

Various arrays were installed along the corridors: reinforcement arrays, soundproofing arrays, dust-detection arrays, and illumination arrays.

The pale pink light bathed the entire rear pavilion in a languid, sensual glow.

Mo Hua was displeased.

In the mines, miners toiled in hardship, their lives hanging in the balance, yet the arrays painted there were crude at best.

Yet in this pleasure palace of indulgence, the arrays were so thoroughly complete.

They even used arrays to enhance the atmosphere, to cultivate mood.

It was truly excessive.

Suddenly, spiritual energy surged violently, bricks shattered, and wood splinters flew.

Mo Hua turned toward the sound.

He saw that on the far second floor, a room's doors and windows had been utterly shattered, and the arrays on both sides had been completely destroyed.

On the corridor, two Foundation Establishment cultivators were fighting.

One wore black robes; the other, gray.

The black-robed cultivator was the Situ family's Foundation Establishment elder, named Situ Jin.

The masked gray-robed cultivator exuded a gloomy aura—most likely the shadowy figure behind the mine's corpse trade that Mo Hua was seeking.

Sister Situ, accompanied by the Dao Ting Si enforcers of Nan Yue City, stood guard all around, preventing the gray-robed cultivator from escaping.

They were all Qi Condensation cultivators, unable to match a Foundation Establishment cultivator in direct combat, but when arrayed together, they could hold their own for a few exchanges and buy precious time.

The Dao Ting Si cultivators stood ready in formation.

On the corridor, Situ Jin and the gray-robed man exchanged blows repeatedly.

Mo Hua watched for a while, then frowned.

Bai Zisheng whispered:

"This gray-robed cultivator seems kinda weak…"

Mo Hua nodded involuntarily, "Yeah, he's really weak…"

He appeared sinister, his spiritual energy soft and yin, but his cultivation was truly feeble—even among ordinary early-stage Foundation Establishment cultivators, he was at the bottom.

Among all the Foundation Establishment cultivators Mo Hua had seen, this gray-robed man was the weakest.

Even the elderly Zhou Zhangsi of Tong Xian City, and Old Master An, who was poor at Dao arts, would outmatch him in combat.

The gray-robed cultivator was a body cultivator, but his bloodline was weak, and his martial arts were mediocre.

Besides that, he seemed to have learned one or two spell techniques.

Judging by his movements, they were earth poison arts—but he clearly wasn't following the spiritual cultivation path; these spells might work against Qi Condensation cultivators, but against peers, they were utterly inadequate.

From head to toe, the gray-robed cultivator radiated the aura of an amateur.

Mo Hua's frown deepened.

How could he be this weak?

Even Mo Hua couldn't bear to watch anymore.

The situation on the field reflected this: Situ Jin's palm strikes were like gales, relentlessly overpowering the gray-robed cultivator.

The gray-robed cultivator struggled desperately, barely holding on.

He tried to flee, but the enforcers blocked all exits; every time he attempted to break through, he was delayed for a moment, then immediately re-engaged by Situ Jin.

After dozens more exchanges, the gray-robed cultivator, seeing defeat imminent, leapt from the building, landing in the garden, and a flash of gray light enveloped him—he vanished.

Situ Jin landed immediately, scanned the surroundings, and frowned.

Mo Hua was also startled, and turned to ask:

"What kind of Dao art is that?"

Bai Zisheng hesitated, "Is that… an escape art?"

Bai Zi Xi nodded, "It's an Earth Element escape art, one of the Five Elements escape arts."

"Escape art?" Mo Hua blinked.

Bai Zi Xi explained:

"An escape art is a type of body technique, specifically designed for fleeing. When activated, spiritual energy envelops the body and merges with the Five Elements of Heaven and Earth, concealing one's aura to vanish and escape."

The gray-robed cultivator used the Earth escape art only at the last moment to avoid revealing his true abilities.

Once such an escape art is known, opponents become far more cautious.

Mo Hua understood, and sincerely praised:

"Little sister, you know so much!"

"This is very simple."

Bai Zi Xi spoke calmly, though the tips of his long eyebrows lifted slightly, a faint pride glimmering in his eyes.

Bai Zisheng couldn't help saying:

"Mo Hua, you're such a suck-up."

Mo Hua frowned:

"Speaking the truth isn't sucking up. Besides, why don't I suck up to you? Isn't it because you don't even know?"

Bai Zisheng had no reply.

In terms of Daoist knowledge, he truly couldn't match his sister Bai Zixi.

Not just Daoist knowledge—in many ways, he was simply inferior…

Bai Zisheng stopped bickering with Mo Hua and frowned: "If he used the evasion technique, won't he run away?"

Mo Hua smiled warmly: "He won't get away."

The gray-robed cultivator's spiritual sense was only ten marks.

But Mo Hua's spiritual sense was twelve marks!

Mo Hua's expression hardened. He closed his eyes, focused completely, and extended his spiritual sense to its utmost limit.

Within the vast white expanse of his spiritual perception, he searched for the gray-robed cultivator's trail.

Moments later, Mo Hua opened his eyes, pointed his finger, and summoned fire energy, forming a fireball at his fingertip.

Then, as his intent moved, the fireball shot across the garden in an instant, exploding on a patch of grass and reducing the vegetation to ash.

The charred ground revealed a blackened face.

The gray-robed cultivator looked utterly bewildered.

Where had that fireball come from? How had it hit him?

This fireball technique caught Sister Situ's attention.

He too soon spotted the gray-robed cultivator's whereabouts.

Sister Situ, who had been searching fruitlessly, perked up, channeled his spiritual energy, and slapped his palm toward the gray-robed cultivator.

The gray-robed cultivator couldn't dodge in time—he took the blow, his disguise shattered, his robes torn, his face smeared with soot.

Mo Hua's fireball technique, though powerful, inflicted little damage on a Foundation Establishment cultivator—only made him look disheveled.

The gray-robed cultivator cursed, stepped back several paces, then threw himself onto the ground and vanished.

Sister Situ frowned—he couldn't find him again.

Just then, another swift fireball shot through the air, landing in the garden and exploding against a flower tree, forcing the gray-robed cultivator to reveal himself.

Sister Situ froze, looked up at Mo Hua, his eyes filled with disbelief.

Could this young cultivator actually see through the Earth-Travel evasion technique?

Even he, a Foundation Establishment cultivator, couldn't detect the gray-robed cultivator's trail.

How had he seen it?

But now was no time for amazement.

Sister Situ activated his body technique, lunged forward, and attacked the gray-robed cultivator.

Sister Situ activated his body technique, lunged forward, and attacked the gray-robed cultivator.

The gray-robed cultivator was forced to reveal himself. He looked up—and naturally saw Mo Hua on the upper floor.

He was both shocked and furious, shouting:

"Damn brat, you've ruined my plans—I'll kill you—"

But he didn't finish his curse—Sister Situ cut him off.

Sister Situ slapped his palm forward, coldly saying:

"Thief, die!"

The gray-robed cultivator braced himself against the blow, staggered backward, spat blood, then quickly swallowed a pill to stabilize his qi, and immediately activated his evasion technique, vanishing into the ground.

But again and again, he was struck by fireballs.

Sister Situ grew smarter—he stopped searching himself. Wherever the fireball went, he struck there.

The gray-robed cultivator was like a mole—just burrowing down, only to be blasted back up, utterly miserable.

He felt like vomiting blood.

What the hell was this brat?

How the hell had he seen through his evasion technique?

After taking several more fireballs, the gray-robed cultivator suddenly understood.

It was spiritual sense!

He'd been locked onto by this brat's spiritual sense?!

The gray-robed cultivator found it utterly unbelievable.

He, a Foundation Establishment cultivator, had been locked onto by a Qi Condensation brat's spiritual sense?

Before he could even fully register his shock, he merely hesitated for a moment—then a fireball smashed into his face.

Pain seared across the gray-robed cultivator's face; he ground his teeth in fury.

Fuck, this brat's getting even better at aiming…

If this kept up, he'd be trapped here.

Meanwhile, Sister Situ struck again—this time, his palm hit the gray-robed cultivator's left shoulder. Wind energy coiled around it, shredding his robes and tearing off the black cloth covering his face.

Beneath the cloth was a cold, pale, bloodless face.

The gray-robed cultivator, enraged, rasped:

"You fucking idiots want to die!"

Then he pulled out a strange-looking bronze vial covered in blood-like veins and violently poured the pills inside into his mouth.

"Bad!"

The instant he pulled out the vial, Sister Situ knew something was wrong and struck instantly, launching a palm strike.

Though he didn't know what kind of pill it was, he absolutely could not let him swallow it.

That palm struck the gray-robed cultivator's chest, tearing through skin and flesh with spiritual force, hurling him backward—but failed to stop him from swallowing the bottle of blood-colored pills.

The gray-robed cultivator lay motionless on the ground like a corpse, not moving for a long while.

The scene fell silent.

Sister Situ's gaze turned solemn; he dared not act rashly, only remaining alert.

After a moment, sudden change erupted.

The gray-robed cultivator lying on the ground suddenly began convulsing irregularly, his limbs twisting and deforming, his body swelling gradually, veins bulging, until he stood upright in a grotesque posture.

His skin turned iron-blue, his frame muscular, his eyes reduced to pure whites, like a corpse, radiating deathly aura.

Sister Situ sucked in a sharp breath.

The surrounding enforcers also turned pale with shock.

At that moment, the corpse-like gray-robed cultivator took a step and appeared before Sister Situ, punching straight for his chest.

Sister Situ exerted all his strength, channeling palm force to block the punch.

The Foundation Establishment spiritual force shockwave shattered the surrounding grass, trees, and rocks into fragments.

Sister Situ could not withstand the gray-robed cultivator's punch; he was thrown back seven or eight steps, finally forced to kneel half-on-one-knee, spitting blood.

Just as the gray-robed cultivator moved forward to press his advantage, a fireball suddenly appeared and slammed into the back of his skull.

The spiritual explosion sent him stumbling.

The power was weak, but the humiliation was immense.

The gray-robed cultivator slowly turned his head, his deathly white gaze fixed upward.

On the upper floor, Mo Hua stuck out his tongue at him.

That grimace nearly made the corpse-like gray-robed cultivator explode with rage.

In that instant, the gray-robed cultivator had only one thought.

No matter what, kill this brat!

He abandoned Sister Situ and strode toward Mo Hua.

Sister Situ Fang was horrified and tried to stop him, but was punched away.

The other several Qi Condensation enforcers were no match for him even for a single blow.

The gray-robed cultivator reached Mo Hua's side.

Mo Hua stood on the second floor, looking down at him.

The gray-robed cultivator's iron-blue face let out a strange roar, then leapt upward to the second floor.

Bai Zisheng's eyes turned cold; he stepped forward, crossing his hands and clenching them—silver-white spear materialized, his body moving like wind, spear thrusting like a dragon, golden light blazing fiercely as he attacked the corpse-like gray-robed cultivator.

The gray-robed cultivator's iron-blue skin, knotted with veins, was nearly impervious to blades and spears; he could clash directly with Bai Zisheng's spear using only his flesh.

Bai Zisheng's spear could not pierce his skin or harm him.

Despite his fierce aura, he was still on the defensive.

After all, no matter how gifted he was, he was still only Qi Condensation.

At that moment, Bai Zi Xi's eyes, like glass, shimmered; the sword light condensed at his fingertip burned with snow-white flame.

His pale, slender finger pointed, sending forth several sword beams—fierce sword qi pierced the gray-robed cultivator's flesh, the snow-white flame scorching his wounds.

The gray-robed cultivator cried out in pain, a monstrous, inhuman roar.

But that was all.

The flesh torn open by golden light slowly healed.

The snow-white flame gradually faded, leaving only a few charred marks.

The gray-robed cultivator's expression turned fierce again, yet his heart trembled with dread.

What were these two young cultivators?

He had swallowed the Corpse Blood Pill—his cultivation had surged, his body now like an iron cadaver, impervious to blades and spears.

Yet these Qi Condensation cultivators could fight him alone.

And even use spells to pierce his flesh?

The gray-robed cultivator's heart tightened.

He couldn't prolong this battle—if the Corpse Blood Pill's potency ran out and he suffered backlash, it would be trouble.

Kill that brat to vent his rage, then flee immediately!

The gray-robed cultivator made his decision, glanced around, and on his corpse-like, grotesque face, suddenly appeared confusion…

Where was that brat?

Where did he go?

Where did he disappear to?

Did he become invisible?

The gray-robed cultivator widened his deathly white eyes—no one to be seen.

He released his spiritual sense—no trace detected…

A surge of fury rose in the gray-robed cultivator's heart.

That brat…

His escape art had been seen through, then he'd been ambushed, humiliated, and even mocked with a face pulled at him—and now he couldn't even catch a glimpse of that little brat's shadow…

He can't see him—so how is he supposed to kill him?

It was like throwing a punch at a wad of cotton.

And he hadn't even hit the cotton.

Watching the time slip away, the drug's potency about to run out.

The grey-robed cultivator's fury had nowhere to vent; he trembled all over with rage, gnashing his teeth, his voice hoarse, and threw his head back to howl at the sky:

"Come out!"

"Come out, damn you!!"

This impotent, raging fury was brimming with pent-up frustration.

This chapter ran a bit long, so it was written a little later than usual.

(End of chapter)