Chapter 479

In the quiet bamboo chamber of Nan Yue City.

Master Zhuang opened his eyes, his complexion paler by a shade, and said with a hint of helplessness:

"A disciple too clever is also a trouble…"

"Once clever, he thinks too much; one slip, and he thinks of things he shouldn't…"

The old puppeteer, who was carving a small tiger from a piece of wood for Mo Hua, paused, frowning:

"Already figured it out?"

Master Zhuang shook his head. "Almost." He let out a faint sigh. "Good thing the boy is quick-witted…"

He knew how to use the earth's Dao essence to mask his own aura; otherwise, if that man had seen his face, more Zhou Zhe would have been needed.

The old puppeteer fell silent for a moment, then murmured:

"Mo Hua hasn't come back in a long time…"

Master Zhuang's face grew slightly paler, yet his eyebrows lifted slightly as he smiled faintly:

"What, missing him?"

The old puppeteer ignored him, silently carving the small tiger in his hand.

Previously, Mo Hua had come to him and said he might need many, many small tigers, asking him to carve some.

Now he had carved many small tigers, but Mo Hua hadn't returned home.

After a moment, the old puppeteer sighed helplessly:

"The pine nuts are gone, and no one roasts them for me anymore."

Master Zhuang suggested:

"Why not let Zi Sheng roast them for you? He's my disciple, so he counts as your junior too—this is the sort of thing he ought to do."

The old puppeteer looked disgusted. "Bai family disciples can only handle blades, spears, swords, and halberds—nothing else."

"You're awfully particular…" Master Zhuang shook his head.

The old puppeteer ignored him, thinking only of when Mo Hua would return.

But he couldn't calculate it, so he asked Master Zhuang:

"How much longer?"

Master Zhuang pinched his fingers, glanced at the distant mine, his gaze shifting slightly, then said slowly:

"Soon…"

Master Zhuang's eyes grew deep.

"He's learned the formation."

"That thing is nearly refined."

"The corpse qi is spreading; the heavenly patterns are murky."

"This calamity in Nan Yue City won't be small—let's see how the boy handles it…"

The old puppeteer nodded.

Master Zhuang glanced again at the mine beyond the city.

Above the mine were the suffering mining cultivators.

They knew nothing, still toiling daily.

Master Zhuang sighed: "Whenever a great cosmic calamity strikes, it's always the lowest cultivators who suffer…"

"You're being sentimental again."

The old puppeteer's voice was flat.

Master Zhuang chuckled bitterly:

"Can't help it—I'm getting old."

The old puppeteer looked at Master Zhuang, his eyes filled with deep regret and sorrow.

He said nothing, only lowered his head and continued carving the small tiger.

One cut after another, his technique flawless, wood shavings falling, the tiger's contours perfectly natural.

Inside the bamboo chamber, silence suddenly fell.

After a while, the old puppeteer suddenly said: "I'll kill your brother."

Master Zhuang froze.

"Kill him, and you'll live a few more years." The old puppeteer's voice was cold.

Master Zhuang felt warmth in his heart; his refined face softened into a smile.

"Thank you."

Then, with regret, he added:

"You've helped me so much, but my time is short—I doubt I can help you anymore…"

The old puppeteer shook his head. "If you don't cherish your sect's bonds, I'll deploy the Heavenly Puppets and Earthly Dolls to kill him—you might live decades longer and still help me."

Master Zhuang fell silent for a moment, then shook his head and sighed:

"Can't be killed anymore…"

The old puppeteer frowned. "The Dao Heart Sows Demons—is it truly that difficult?"

Master Zhuang spoke calmly: "He entered the Demon Hall, became a Daoist, inherited the Dao title 'Gui,' received the divine memory transmission, and at its depths, he is nearly a Heavenly Demon."

"Before, he was cautious; even the Grand Secretaries couldn't touch him."

"Now that his Dao Heart Sows Demons is complete, his divine memory follows the 'Gui' path—deceitful, countless, impossible to kill by mere cultivation or Dao techniques alone…"

The old puppeteer fell silent, his aged eyes holding unreadable emotions.

"How can you know unless you try?"

Mr. Zhuang sighed: "You can kill him, and he will die—but who dies, and whether he truly dies, no one knows…"

Old Kui frowned deeply. "The Dao Heart Sowing Demon technique isn't among the supreme transmissions of the Mo Sect."

How could it be so terrifying?

Mr. Zhuang's expression turned mournful. "The Dao Heart Sowing Demon technique isn't, but my senior brother—he is a cultivator of supreme spiritual insight…"

"On this earth, no one knows who might kill him…"

Mr. Zhuang's expression was helpless; slowly, he closed his eyes.

Suddenly, in his mind, Mo Hua's innocent, radiant smile surfaced.

Mr. Zhuang paused slightly, then his gaze darkened; after long contemplation, he murmured:

"It's still too early…"

"Just don't get killed. Live well—that's enough…"

…

In the Lu family's corpse mine, within the Altar of Ten Thousand Corpses.

Only after completing the Thick Earth Array, his spiritual sense clear and the eerie aura vanished, did Mo Hua finally exhale.

At the same time, he was filled with lingering dread, cold sweat seeping from his back.

"How eerie…"

He hadn't spoken his name, hadn't mentioned his Dao title—yet merely by thinking deeply, the Daoist sensed him, even conjuring his image within his mind.

His body subtly lost control.

Utter his Dao title, submit to his Dao.

What kind of technique is this? Could it also be a form of spiritual insight art?

Mo Hua dared not think further.

He buried the three characters "Weird Daoist" deep in his heart, avoiding all contact, avoiding all deep thought.

At the same time, Mo Hua felt somewhat dejected.

He had previously believed his spiritual insight method had reached perfection—that in spiritual sense confrontations, he could dominate all.

Yet he hadn't expected that merely by thinking, he'd been detected.

And facing the Weird Daoist's eerie shadow, he felt utterly powerless, unable to resist.

Mo Hua sighed:

"Cultivation must be approached with caution; never grow arrogant."

"Beyond mountains lie higher mountains; beyond heaven lies higher heaven."

"The methods of high-realm great cultivators reach heaven and earth, beyond comprehension—far beyond what this mere Qi Refining cultivator can fathom."

"Never become complacent!"

Mo Hua silently warned himself several times, then nodded.

Immediately, another question occurred to him:

If this eerie shadow is a spiritual insight technique…

Could he learn it himself someday?

Cultivate spiritual insight to its ultimate, and attain Dao through supreme spiritual sense.

Could he, too, become like this Daoist—deceptive, unpredictable, impossible to guard against?

Now he was only a Qi Refining cultivator, his spiritual sense merely twelve marks.

But if one day his spiritual sense grew strong enough, and his spiritual insight techniques numerous enough, could he directly resist this "eerie shadow"?

If so, then if he silently murmured the Daoist's Dao title, luring the "eerie shadow" to come—wouldn't it…

Be possible to "eat" it?

If he "ate" its eerie shadow, would his spiritual sense also grow?

After refining it, might he also comprehend some spiritual insight techniques?

…

Mo Hua merely stirred a thought—suddenly, his spiritual sea trembled, and again the withered, ink-like Daoist shadow appeared.

Mo Hua startled, quickly gathering his thoughts.

He silently repeated: "I thought nothing. I thought nothing…"

After an unknown length of time, his spiritual sense cleared, the shadow vanished.

Mo Hua finally exhaled.

Now he dared not indulge in fantasies again; instead, he calmly forgot all those thoughts and resumed investigating the array and altar before him…

…

Far away, in the barren forest.

Sun Yi Leng suddenly sensed something and froze.

He sneered. "Dare to come again?"

"You think of my title, believing I won't know?"

He sat cross-legged, swallowed a Blood Pill, restored his vital energy, and was about to perform divination—when suddenly his heart jolted.

He felt a pang of unease.

This unease arose without cause, came swiftly and vanished quickly.

As if, in some hidden cosmic flow, a spiritual insight had been born.

It had fixed its gaze upon him—malicious, and seemingly, even with a hint of "covetousness"…

What does this mean?

Who could covet him, and who would dare?

"Sun Yi" felt a flicker of anger.

He wanted to trace it backward.

But that wisp of divine sense was like a thought—utterly faint.

Like a fishhook tossed onto the water's surface, it touched lightly, sent out a single ripple, then sank into the still depths and lay dormant.

The water's surface returned to calm, without a trace.

As if someone had buried that thought deep within the heart.

Yet Heaven moves in its own way; all cause and effect had already turned, silent and unseen…

"Sun Yi"'s gaze was deep and hollow, but at last no longer indifferent—a layer of frost had crept over it:

"Who was it…"

The Shenshan mountains were deathly still; strange, eerie cries of yao drifted over.

After a long while, "Sun Yi" turned and continued onward, one step deep, one step shallow, along his original course—only his voice, hoarse as it was, now carried a thread of hatred and dread:

"Don't let me find you…"

"Otherwise…"

His words, unfinished, were swallowed by the deep, uncanny strangeness of the mountains.

Finally managed to finish it before midnight~

(End of Chapter)