Chapter 521

"One who must not be observed, one who cannot be observed."

The withered old man recalled the words his master had once spoken to him.

One who cannot be observed…

He thought of Mr. Zhuang, and of that veil of mist.

The veil of mist Mr. Zhuang had cast may not merely have concealed secrets, but also protected all who dared to peer into that young master's karmic thread.

For within that karmic thread lay great peril.

Yet he could not fathom how a mere ten-year-old array master could be entangled in such deep, such ferocious karma.

What exactly had happened?

The withered old man frowned deeply, racked his brain, and found no answer.

"Enough, enough. Ignorance is bliss… Such perilous matters are better left unknown…"

The withered old man sighed, still trembling with unease.

Everything concerning Mo Hua gradually blurred in his mind.

He remembered only: beneath a sea of blood, amid a tide of corpses, a small, unmoving figure stood firm.

Young Master Yun could not recall it either.

He remembered the Lingshu Array, and that he had befriended a young array master.

But who that man was, he could only dimly grasp—he could not remember at all.

Only a clear, smiling face remained in his memory…

…

On another front, Dao Soldier Commander Yang Jishan was drafting a memorial to the Dao Court.

He wished to commend Mo Hua.

In this Corpse Mine campaign, suppressing the corpse tide, subduing the Corpse King, slaying Lu Chengyun, quelling the corpse plague, and improving the livelihood of cultivators in Nan Yue City, the young master Mo Hua had rendered monumental service.

But as he wrote, everything suddenly blurred.

Yang Jishan intended to write "Mo Hua," but as his brush touched the paper, he froze.

The two characters "Mo Hua" were obscured by mist.

He could not recall the young master's name at all.

"What is going on?"

Yang Jishan's heart trembled violently.

How could I have forgotten his name?

Soon, he realized it was not just the name—his face, his voice, even his very presence, were gradually dissolving into haze, becoming indistinct.

The events of the Corpse Mine were also fragmented, incomplete.

What exactly had transpired within the Corpse Mine, and upon the Grave Mountain?

Yang Jishan frowned.

His mind retained only two images:

One: beneath a sky drenched in blood, the Corpse King roared to heaven, ten thousand corpses bowing before it.

The other: within roaring flames, the Corpse King howled in fury, turning to ash.

What had truly occurred between these moments?

Yang Jishan had forgotten it entirely.

How had such a powerful, ferocious Corpse King been subdued—and reduced to ash?

Yang Jishan could not recall.

In his mind-sea, he faintly remembered: a tiny figure had turned heaven and earth upside down, forcing ten thousand corpses to submit…

"Who was that young cultivator again?"

Yang Jishan frowned, murmuring to himself.

…

The matter had settled.

All karmic threads were gradually veiled in mist.

Cultivators from all factions of Nan Yue City gradually dispersed.

But half a month later, a new group of unwelcome guests arrived.

They were four peculiar cultivators.

A boy, stunningly beautiful, yet with a pallid face, as if wearing a perfectly carved, flawless mask of dead skin.

An old man, carrying a sword case, expressionless, eyes entirely white.

A burly man, towering in stature, but with razor-sharp fingertips and bloodshot eyes.

And an ancient crone, reeking of decay, muttering nonsense to herself.

They stood upon a desolate hilltop, gazing distantly at Nan Yue City and the surrounding mines.

The old man with the sword case spoke in a hoarse voice:

"Such a grand undertaking—what a waste!"

The pale boy sneered, "All he managed was raising a Grade-One Dao Deviant… and even that, he never finished."

The big man grinned savagely, revealing two fangs, his face like a monstrous wolf, "Your father longed to raise one too—yet after half a lifetime, he never raised a single one."

The pale boy said haughtily:

"Only Grade-Three or higher—true great demons, great corpses, great deviants—are worth raising. Grade-One or -Two Dao Deviants? Not worth the effort."

The sword-case old man's voice, hoarse and detached, flowed like drifting desert sands:

"If you say that, you fundamentally don't understand what a Dao Nai is... Dao Nai is an anomaly, not measured by rank."

The pale boy sneered, clearly dismissing it.

The wolf-tooth giant glanced around again, sniffed the stench of decay in the wind, and sighed:

"Too bad, arrived too late—otherwise, we could have feasted well."

He stuck out his tongue, licking his lips—its surface was covered in backward barbs.

The sword-case elder nodded, "Indeed, too bad—this Dao Nai died young; otherwise, the entire continent could have become a breeding ground for demonic Dao."

"Whose handiwork was this?" asked the wolf-tooth giant.

"Who else could it be?" replied the sword-case elder.

A flicker of wariness passed through the wolf-tooth giant's eyes.

Clearly, even they dared not speak the name of that Daoist.

The pale boy scoffed, "I wonder who ruined the treacherous Daoist's plans..."

A trace of contempt crossed his pallid face.

The sword-case elder spoke gravely:

"You'd better show more respect. Don't think that because your father backs you, that Daoist won't touch you."

The pale boy's gaze hardened, "My father's cultivation is higher than his."

The sword-case elder shook his head, "You still don't understand what the title 'Daoist' means..."

The pale boy remained dismissive.

The sword-case elder's entirely white eyes stared coldly at the boy, his voice icy:

"If that Daoist wants to kill you, even your father can't save you."

"Whether you live or die doesn't matter—but don't drag us down with you. Otherwise, we won't let you off either..."

The pale boy was furious, but said nothing in reply.

His teeth bit through his lip—but it was as if he'd only pierced a skin-sack; not a single drop of blood flowed.

None of the other three present cared about him.

The wolf-tooth giant, like a beast, sniffed the mountain air again, his gaze darkening as he spoke:

"Many corpses, many cultivators—the Dao Nai's aura is strong, nearly matured—but something went wrong..."

"That man intervened, didn't he?"

The sword-case elder nodded, "Only that man could ruin the Daoist's arrangement."

The wolf-tooth giant frowned:

"What exactly is hidden within that man? The Dao Court, the Tian Shu Pavilion, every clan and sect, even us—Xie Sect, Mo Sect, Xuan Sanren, Daoists—all are hunting him?"

The sword-case elder smiled faintly, "And then what?"

The wolf-tooth giant froze.

The sword-case elder said, "Unless you've reached Jin Dan, unless you've achieved Liu Yuhua—even if you're given this opportunity, what can you do?"

"Can you resist the Dao Court's suppression? Or the Mo Sect's pursuit?"

"If you're a pawn, then act like one."

"With our cultivation, we're far from needing to consider who holds the black or white stones..."

The sword-case elder's words were sharp.

The wolf-tooth giant took no offense; instead, he extended his crimson tongue, licking his upper lip with a sinister grin:

"I cultivate as a beast—I see meat, I want to eat it. Isn't that natural?"

The sword-case elder's gaze was hollow, laden with meaning:

"Eat flesh that grants eternal life, and your life ends."

Flesh that grants eternal life...

A gleam of hunger flashed in the wolf-tooth giant's eyes.

A strange flush spread across the pale boy's face.

For a moment, all three harbored secret intentions.

The old woman, who had remained silent since the beginning, suddenly opened her eyes wide, her gaze wild:

"My child, my child!"

The wolf-tooth giant frowned, "What's she raving about now?"

But the old woman paid no heed, grinning eerily:

"I found him... my own flesh and blood, my child didn't die..."

In a flash, her form blurred like wind, fleeing southward toward a Shanfeng.

The sword-case elder and the other two had no choice but to follow her.

The four finally halted atop a small hillock.

This hillock was remote and desolate, yet serene in its beauty, bathed in the glow of the setting sun.

Upon the hillock stood a small grave mound.

The old woman's expression was focused; her hands, like iron, dug through earth and stone, unearthing a coffin within.

With a light tug of her fingers, she shattered a corner of the coffin, then heaved—its lid shattered instantly into pieces.

Inside the coffin lay a small zombie.

Trembling, the old woman lifted the small zombie into her arms.

"My child, my child..."

The pale boy frowned, "This is a zombie? Aren't all the zombies nearby supposed to have been burned by the Cremation Array? How is there still one left?"

The wolf-toothed giant glanced around, raising an eyebrow. "It seems someone deliberately left this corpse buried here..."

"Is it the corpse's relative?"

"Why bury it here?"

"Who knows..."

"Could it be for corpse cultivation?"

"This corpse is too small and too weak—what's the point of cultivating it? To serve tea and carry water?"

But the sword-case elder looked solemn. "This little corpse is an excellent vessel for corpse cultivation—pure corpse qi, no blood qi, utterly clean."

"What's so excellent about that?"

"Jade corpse..."

"What?"

The sword-case elder said no more. "You don't practice corpse cultivation—you wouldn't understand."

The pale youth frowned.

But the wolf-toothed giant suddenly seemed to understand. "Now that you mention it... this old woman is a corpse cultivator?"

Among the group, he knew the origins of the sword-case elder and the pale youth, but this old crone was unfamiliar to him.

The sword-case elder nodded slightly. "Her son died young. To revive him, she learned corpse cultivation and turned her own son into a corpse."

"But she made a mistake—she created a special blood corpse."

"It must eat human flesh and drink human blood every day."

"She killed people to feed her son, until the Dao Ting Si discovered her. Her blood corpse was executed before her eyes, and she went completely mad, fully descending into corpse cultivation."

"For all these years, she has hunted only faithless men and Dao Ting Si cultivators."

"She also delights in turning children into corpses."

"All the corpses she creates are her children..."

"But..."

The sword-case elder's gaze sharpened. "This little corpse... might be special..."

The old crone cradled the little corpse tightly, as if soothing her own flesh and blood.

The pale youth made a "tsk" sound, then suddenly exclaimed, "There's a formation on this little corpse's chest?"

"Formation?" The wolf-toothed giant blinked.

The pale youth said in wonder, "Not just any formation..."

He called out loudly, "Old woman, let me take a look at this little corpse."

The old crone acted as if she hadn't heard.

The pale youth repeated himself.

The old crone remained unmoved.

The pale youth flew into rage. "You ancient hag—don't push your luck..."

He reached out to snatch the little corpse from her arms—but as his hand moved, it was as if he had touched her sacred scale.

The old crone's aura shifted violently. Her face twisted, her pupils turned vertical, her withered yellow skin darkened to bronze, transforming into a bronze corpse.

With one rip of her right hand, a chilling wind tore through, shredding the pale youth's arm.

Bright red blood spilled out.

A sinister corpse poison seeped in.

The pale youth's face grew even paler, yet his cheeks flushed with an unnatural crimson from shame and fury.

"Old hag—you're asking for death!"

The old crone clutched the little corpse tighter, snarling at the pale youth, revealing two long fangs.

The pale youth's face darkened—he was about to strike, but the sword-case elder stopped him.

"Don't provoke her."

The pale youth, though wary of the sword-case elder, let out a cold snort and suppressed his aura.

The old crone shed her corpse form, reverting to an ordinary old woman, holding the child in her arms, calm and serene.

The sword-case elder looked up at the sky, then said:

"Time's running out. We must set off."

He turned to the others, his expression blank, but his tone solemn:

"Do what we must do. Don't meddle in other matters."

The elder adjusted the sword-case on his back.

The sword-case trembled slightly, emitting a bloodthirsty hunger.

"Don't rush..."

The elder murmured silently to himself.

"Once we find that person, the true storm will come..."

It will be terrible—blood and wind...

The four gradually departed.

The old crone took the little corpse with her.

In the days that followed, many other cultivators—whose aura was dark, attire bizarre, and behavior erratic—arrived in Nan Yue City,

All from demonic sects, shocked by the handiwork of human-created Dao corruption, and saddened by its premature end.

But none of them entered the city, killed anyone, ate people, or did anything out of line.

Nan Yue City has already been drawn into karmic entanglement.

If they get involved, they are very likely to have their secrets exposed and will struggle to save themselves.

Turbulent currents surge beneath the surface.

But these dangerous currents all bypassed Nan Yue City, flowing toward distant places.

After many trials, the cultivators of Nan Yue City finally welcomed a long-awaited peace...

The cultivators lived day after day as usual.

In Su Lao's cave dwelling.

Shuisheng lay on a small stone table, drawing formation patterns, while Su Lao chattered beside him:

"Why are you holding your brush like that? You're wasting too much spiritual awareness..."

"This formation line—I've taught it so many times, and you still don't get it..."

"Sigh, don't draw it like that..."

Shuisheng paid no attention, drawing the formation patterns as if alone.

When he didn't understand something, he asked; after getting the answer, he let Su Lao's remaining chatter and complaints flow in one ear and out the other, ignoring it all.

His entire focus was on the formation patterns.

Even if he learned slowly, even if his drawings were poor, he still persisted in drawing.

If one attempt failed, he drew twice.

If two attempts failed, he drew three times.

As he kept drawing, he gradually learned...

That was what the little Mr. taught him.

Shuisheng remembered it firmly in his heart.

Su Lao continued complaining beside him, but suddenly fell silent.

Shuisheng's appearance resembled Sister Shuixian's, and now, this focused expression reminded him of himself in his youth...

After a moment of silence, Su Lao's expression softened; he smiled warmly, his gaze upon Shuisheng filled with tenderness.

"I owe the little Mr. a great debt..."

Su Lao sighed inwardly.

The lives of the miners had also improved greatly.

They could eat their fill, support their families, and gradually even had surplus spirit stones to fund their own or their children's cultivation.

The Lu family, once looming over them, had already collapsed and was no longer a threat.

They had all heard rumors about the corpse mine.

"They say that Lu Chengyun, that Wang Ba, killed people and turned them into corpses to mine for him, and finally got his comeuppance—eaten alive by the corpses he himself created."

"That corpse wasn't an ordinary one—it was Lu Bopi, the Lu family's ancient ancestor!"

"That damn Lu Bopi, even in death he refused to let us go—he turned into a corpse and came to plague Nan Yue City..."

"So many corpses—it was terrifying."

"Even now, thinking about it makes my scalp tingle."

"On the day the corpses surrounded the city, I stood on the wall and looked down—a sea of corpses, gnashing teeth and claws, packed tightly..."

Someone jumped in fright, "You think... there might still be corpses down in the mine shafts...?"

"Who knows? With so many corpses, how could they possibly be cleared all at once?"

"Then what do we do?"

"I haven't married yet—if a corpse bites me, I'm done for!"

"I've got elderly parents and young children..."

For a moment, fear spread through the crowd.

"What if," one cultivator said, "we offer worship to that little Immortal Child in the corpse mine..."

Someone didn't understand, "The little Immortal Child—who's that?"

"The reincarnation of a celestial attendant under an Immortal."

"Who?"

"The little Immortal Child who suppressed the corpse tide, subdued the Corpse King, and helped us draw formations and build the mine shafts."

"Is that true?"

"True—I saw him."

"You saw him?"

"Mm-hmm," the miner nodded, "That little Immortal Child had three heads and six arms, impervious to blades and spears, and knocked down the Corpse King with a single punch..."

"What nonsense are you spouting?"

"Yeah, who looks like that?"

"No, that little Immortal Child was handsome—fair and soft-skinned, eyes bright and sparkling, smiling cutely..."

"You're talking nonsense too—how could a little cultivator like that defeat the Corpse King?"

"Have you seen him?"

"Of course I have! That day on the city wall, I saw the little Immortal Child—nine feet tall, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, immensely strong, each punch sending gusts of wind—tens of thousands of corpses couldn't get near him!"

"You're damn right—that's a 'Strength Warrior,' not a 'Little Immortal Child'!"

"Exactly, if you're going to brag, at least make it sound believable."

……

Opinions flew back and forth, and in the end no conclusion was reached.

Finally, the eldest among the miner-cultivators slapped the table and said:

"Since it's an immortal child, he can't be very old. We don't know what he looks like, so we won't draw a specific likeness—just a figure sketched in ink."

"Since he suppressed the corpse tide, it means the jiangshi must fear him. We'll hang this little immortal child's portrait in the mine shaft to ward off evil, and the jiangshi shouldn't dare come out and cause trouble anymore…"

After speaking, he sighed. "This little Mr. did us a great favor. For us miner-cultivators, it's a grace as weighty as rebirth. Even if it can't suppress the jiangshi, we should still pay our respects to him—may his future path be smooth, may his cultivation bear fruit, may his life span match heaven and earth, and may he bring blessings to all living beings!"

"Exactly!"

The miner-cultivators nodded in agreement one after another.

They hired someone to paint several ink-wash portraits of the immortal child and hung them inside the mine.

From then on, the miner-cultivators of Nanyue City, before entering the mine, would all pay their respects to this portrait of the immortal child.

On the portrait was a small ink-wash figure.

Crisp black and white, brimming with subtle mystery.

Paying respects to the immortal child's portrait could dispel evil and quell the jiangshi plague.

They prayed for their own safety, and in their hearts, they also blessed Mo Hua's safety.

In a place that bred karmic sin, cultivators offered incense and devotion, generating wish-power, which, in the unseen workings of fate, merged into Mo Hua's karmic ties, forming a balance.

Only, Mo Hua knew none of this.

On a mountain path several hundred li away.

Mo Hua rode on Da Bai, gazing at the mountains and rivers wreathed in drifting clouds and mist, setting out on the road toward Foundation Establishment…

The mine arc is finally written~

Next up is Foundation Establishment.

It's also the last major arc of Volume Two.

I need to take some time to sort out the detailed outline, so tomorrow's update might be a bit later~

(End of chapter)