Chapter 48

At the foot of the mountain path leading to Zuowang Cottage stood three cultivators.

Of the three cultivators, two children stood at the front, with a veiled woman behind them.

The two children, a boy and a girl, appeared slightly older than Mo Hua; their clothing was splendid and luxurious, not of mortal grade, clearly indicating high status. At this moment, they stood respectfully on the steps before the gate, bowing toward the mountain.

The boy was handsome, his eyes gleaming brightly.

The girl was exceedingly beautiful; under the sunlight, her skin was even paler and more translucent than snow.

From afar, the two looked like the Golden Boy and Jade Girl attending upon an immortal.

Behind the two children stood a tall woman, veiled, her face hidden, seemingly a family steward or guardian; there was no discernible spiritual energy fluctuation around her, yet she radiated a pressure Mo Hua had never felt before.

"They appear to be scions of noble families, come to seek instruction from Master Zhuang…"

Mo Hua mused to himself, but such matters were clearly for Master Zhuang to decide, not his concern.

Mo Hua only needed to learn the formation arts well from Master Zhuang; after all, he was merely a registered disciple, and he did not know how long Master Zhuang would teach him.

Mo Hua ascended the mountain on his own, and the three at the gate naturally noticed him too; but seeing his plain attire and low spiritual energy, they merely glanced briefly and paid him no further attention.

Until Mo Hua walked straight past them, climbed the distant mountain path, and reached the pavilion shrouded in mist.

Then he reached out a small hand and pushed open the bamboo gate—something they had waited overnight for hours without opening—stepping inside as casually as if entering his own home…

Only then did their expressions grow complex.

The two children involuntarily glanced at the woman behind them; she subtly shook her head, signaling patience, and the two children quieted their minds, continuing to wait with utmost respect.

Mo Hua entered the courtyard, set down his bamboo basket, took out a dish of braised meat and several plates of pastries, and arranged them on the small table in the courtyard, so that when Master Zhuang awoke, he could enjoy wine or tea while gazing at the scenery.

Mo Hua stole a glance inside the inner chamber; sure enough, the master was still sleeping in.

Mo Hua also gave two boxes of roasted pine nuts to Old Puppet, who had risen early and was playing a Five Elements chess game alone, his face expressionless, whether amused or bored impossible to tell.

Mo Hua placed the pine nuts aside; Old Puppet tasted one, his expression subtly shifting. "The flavor is different."

"These are two different flavors: one was stir-fried with sweet-scented licorice, the other with spicy spices. My mother said to let you taste them, for a change."

Old Puppet tasted one from each box, nodded, and said: "First, study the formation arts. When you're tired, come play chess with me."

Mo Hua ran to the study, found the few formation texts he hadn't finished reading, then hurried to the large locust tree in the courtyard, sat on a small wooden stool, leaned over the small stone table, and studied formation arts.

This small table and stool had been specially made for Mo Hua by Old Puppet, then placed exactly where Mo Hua liked them, their heights perfectly suited to him.

Master Zhuang was lazy and imposed few demands on Mo Hua, but Mo Hua knew this opportunity was rare—he would likely never again receive guidance in formation arts from a master like Master Zhuang.

So Mo Hua studied with great seriousness.

For a lone cultivator like Mo Hua, even being a registered disciple was already a great fortune.

Mo Hua felt deep gratitude and never slackened for a moment.

Studying formation texts and sketching formations consumed spiritual awareness; when his spiritual awareness was exhausted, he restored it through meditation, then resumed reading and sketching, exhausting it again, meditating again to restore it—until, when exhausted once more, further meditation was no longer advisable.

In Master Zhuang's words, excess is as bad as deficiency; though Mo Hua felt no issue, he still strictly followed Master Zhuang's teachings.

At such times, when spiritual awareness was depleted, he could neither read nor sketch formations, so Mo Hua would go to play chess with Old Puppet.

Five Elements chess was simple and easy to understand, requiring no deep thought, so it was relaxing to play.

After Mo Hua and Old Puppet played several games, dusk fell, and Mo Hua bid farewell to Master Zhuang and returned home, taking the empty dishes and food boxes with him.

As the sun set and twilight clung to the mountains, when Mo Hua left Master Zhuang's courtyard, he found the three from that morning still standing outside—their posture and expression still respectful, but now showing signs of fatigue.

Even for cultivators, standing an entire day without food or drink would cause discomfort, let alone two children no older than Mo Hua.

Yet Mo Hua had no intention of meddling.

They had stood outside all day; Master Zhuang could not possibly be unaware. This situation clearly meant Master Zhuang did not wish to see them.

Whether to meet or not was Master Zhuang's own decision—none of Mo Hua's business to worry over.

So Mo Hua simply bowed briefly to the three, said nothing, and descended the mountain with his small basket.

The next day, when Mo Hua ascended the mountain, he found the three still standing outside the gate.

By day, the mountain was scorching hot; by night, the air turned cool and dew-heavy.

The three had stood for a full day and night; the veiled woman fared well, for her cultivation was deep enough to withstand heat and cold.

The two children, however, had grown gaunt; the boy looked listless, clearly gritting his teeth to endure, his eyes filled with stubbornness.

The girl's complexion had grown even paler, like pear blossoms dusted with dew, yet her clear eyes betrayed unwavering resolve.

Mo Hua stole another glance and couldn't help but marvel: beautiful people always looked beautiful, no matter the circumstance.

Yet Mo Hua felt no emotion within.

In this world, the more beautiful a woman, the less she had to do with you.

Mo Hua, as before, pushed open the bamboo gate as if they weren't there, and walked into Master Zhuang's courtyard with his small basket, amid the complex and somewhat resentful gazes of the three.

Mo Hua thought the three would leave within three or four days at most—but they waited at the gate for seven days, the two children's faces as white as paper, still showing no sign of retreat; Mo Hua could not help but admire their perseverance.

Especially when he recalled how easily he had gained access to Master Zhuang, while these three had stood seven days without food or drink yet still could not enter the gate—he felt a twinge of shame.

The next day, Mo Hua prepared several questions on formation arts and specifically went to consult Master Zhuang.

Master Zhuang's expression was as usual, patiently answering, though occasionally he glanced toward the gate, his gaze deep, as if lost in thought.

Mo Hua said: "Master, don't you wish to see the people outside?"

Master Zhuang snapped back to awareness; he had no intention of speaking, but after looking at Mo Hua, he said:

"They are the descendants of an old acquaintance, entangled in karmic bonds. I do not wish to involve myself—so it is better not to see them."

Mo Hua said: "Then let me tell them to go home."

Master Zhuang's expression subtly changed. "They have stood seven days—if they could leave, they would have left already. At this point, would they listen to you?"

"How will you know unless you try?" Mo Hua smiled. "They've stood outside seven days, disturbing your peace—you can't even sleep properly anymore."

Before, he usually slept until afternoon; now he rose by noon…

Master Zhuang regarded him with interest. "Very well. Go and try. Tell them to go home—don't disturb the mountain's tranquility."