Chapter 553: Dao Heart Planting Demons

Can I learn it?

Mo Hua thought it over and shook his head.

Probably not…

"Dao Heart Planting Demons" — just from the sound of it, it's a demonic Dao method.

He's a proper cultivator; he can't go down crooked, unorthodox paths and learn improper Mo Sect Dao techniques.

What if he learned it, suffered qi deviation, fell into the demonic path, and turned into a little demon…

"But if I can't learn it, can I at least study it?"

Mo Hua turned the thought over in his mind.

He also recalled the night they parted, when his Master gave him this counsel about the "Gu Daoist":

"He's already fallen into the demonic path, and what he cultivates is the art of 'Gu' Dao…"

"His nature is cold, his methods are extremely powerful, and he is an exceedingly arrogant man — but he is thoroughly versed in divine sense arts, and his use of spiritual consciousness has reached the absolute pinnacle…"

"If you ever encounter him in the future, you must be very careful and on your guard…"

……

If he meets him in the future, he must be very careful and on his guard…

Mo Hua frowned.

Did his Master's words carry some other deeper meaning?

Had his Master foreseen in advance — or rather, calculated — that he would encounter the Gu Daoist, and that was why he told him to be careful and on his guard?

But how exactly should he guard against him?

Mo Hua thought for a moment, then said uncertainly in his heart:

"Know yourself and know your enemy?"

To guard against Dao Heart Planting Demons, one must first understand it.

If he knew nothing at all about "Dao Heart Planting Demons," and in the future fell into his "Senior Uncle's" trap, becoming his puppet, unable to control himself, he might not even realize it.

Moreover, his Master had said the Gu Daoist's "use of spiritual consciousness has reached the absolute pinnacle…"

If even his Master said "absolute pinnacle," then the Gu Daoist's divine sense arts must be utterly refined — terrifyingly strong.

No matter what, he had to take a good look and pick out whatever he could learn.

As for the orthodox path and the demonic path…

Mo Hua stroked his chin and thought it over carefully.

The so-called orthodox, the so-called demonic — both are forms of "Dao," both are manifestations of the Great Dao.

Take formation arrays, for example.

Unorthodox arrays and orthodox arrays may seem to be worlds apart, but in essence, both follow the basic principles and framework of formation arrays.

The only difference is that orthodox arrays aim to comprehend the Heavenly Dao and grasp the true nature of spiritual power's operation.

Unorthodox arrays are impatient for results; to make arrays quick to master, they pursue raw destructive power — using human blood as ink, human bone as the hub, flesh and skin as the medium, and seas of blood and qi seas as the eyes.

Being and non-being give rise to each other; difficulty and ease complete each other; the orthodox and the unorthodox oppose each other, yet also confirm each other.

Isn't Dao Heart Planting Demons the same way?

Learn its method, grasp its principle, understand its Dao.

Even if he can't use the "Dao Heart Planting Demons" technique itself, he can still draw parallels by analogy, understand the principles of divine sense application, and learn the methods of divine sense application.

At the very least, he can know himself and know his enemy, and guard against his "Senior Uncle" harming him in the future.

But he must hold fast to his Dao heart and never lose his original mind.

It is easy to slide from the orthodox into the unorthodox, but to return from the unorthodox to the orthodox — that is hard…

Mo Hua nodded unconsciously.

He must not be bewitched by "Dao Heart Planting Demons."

He must not turn into a little demon!

Mo Hua made up his mind, and from then on began following behind the Gu Daoist, poking his little head out to peek at how the Gu Daoist used "Dao Heart Planting Demons" to toy with hearts and slaughter cultivators…

The Gu Daoist acted without scruple, slaughtering in all directions, and used Dao Heart Planting Demons with great frequency.

After watching so much, and combining it with his own understanding of divine sense and his experience with divine-sense killing techniques, Mo Hua gradually gained a rough grasp of Dao Heart Planting Demons.

It was a demonic divine-sense art that sounded ordinary, looked eerie, grew terrifying on reflection, and when actually deployed, was cold, cruel, and nearly unsolvable.

Blood and qi wound the flesh.

Spiritual power wounds the meridians.

But Dao Heart Planting Demons wounds the spiritual consciousness itself.

It transforms one's own spiritual consciousness into demonic thoughts; once divided, it spreads like a plague, lodging itself within others' seas of consciousness.

It's somewhat similar to the specters in the visualization diagram, but vastly more powerful.

Specter parasitism gnaws at the sea of consciousness, but it has many limitations and works very slowly.

But Dao Heart Planting Demons takes effect extremely fast — cultivators "planted" with demons by the Gu Daoist would, within just a few breaths, have demonic thoughts planted so deeply they could not break free.

Specters are an invasion of external evil.

Planting demons is more like pollution from within — it directly transforms a cultivator's Dao heart, turning it demonic.

It isn't that the Gu Daoist is controlling them.

It's more that they themselves cannot control their own demonic thoughts.

Clearly they are being controlled by someone else, yet it feels as though they are acting in accordance with their own will and desires.

Planting demonic thoughts within the Dao heart…

From this perspective, what Dao Heart Planting Demons gnaws at and destroys is, in truth, the Dao heart itself!

Mo Hua's heart tightened slightly, then he looked at the Weird Daoist and felt a flicker of doubt:

"The Dao Heart Sows Demons, splitting demonic thoughts… then where is the true 'Weird Daoist'—or rather, the origin demonic thought of the Weird Daoist?"

"If we don't kill that demonic thought, won't the Weird Daoist never die?"

"Perhaps, as long as we don't erase all demonic thoughts—even if we destroy the origin demonic thought—the 'Weird Daoist' still won't die?"

"Then wouldn't that make him truly… immortal and indestructible?!"

Mo Hua was stunned.

His "senior uncle" seemed far more terrifying than he'd imagined…

Mo Hua shifted his thoughts:

"Such a terrifying senior uncle, such a powerful Dao Heart Sows Demons—I must study it thoroughly…"

Mo Hua involuntarily nodded his small head, then resumed stealthily observing the Weird Daoist.

This time, he watched more carefully—and noticed even more…

First, Dao Heart Sows Demons requires a medium.

The six sense organs—eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—all can serve as media.

The six sense objects—forms, sounds, smells, tastes, tactile sensations, and dharmas—all are gateways.

Some cultivators who fell to Dao Heart Sows Demons merely glanced at the Weird Daoist; others heard him speak;

some smelled the bloodstained stench clinging to him; some tasted his blood;

others had struck him, touched his deathly pale, slightly decayed flesh—and thus their Dao Hearts shattered, becoming puppets.

So, one must not look, not listen, not smell, not touch—even not think.

Otherwise, a medium for sowing demons forms; unconsciously, the mind sea takes root with a demonic thought embryo, becoming soil for demonic thoughts to grow—and thus one dies beneath Dao Heart Sows Demons…

And those who died beneath Dao Heart Sows Demons each met different fates.

Low-realm cultivators needed only one glance to have their Dao Hearts corrupted, causing them to turn on each other.

All the lowly demonic cultivators along this path were killed this way by his senior uncle;

those of higher realm were infected through close contact, their minds parasitized by demonic thoughts.

Like the twenty-odd Jin Dan who had been slain earlier.

They had been seeded with demonic thoughts, desired to become "Daoists," and killed each other in madness;

if the realm were even higher—like the old man beside the Sacred Son, who summoned a bell, wore a blood-red robe, and wielded a black demonic sword, his mind firm and his cultivation profound, hard to deal with—

then the senior uncle had to speak.

With words, he disrupted the mind, shattered mental defenses, destroyed the Dao Heart, and unleashed demonic desires.

The old man could not withstand it—and perished by his own hand…

Then what if the realm were even higher?

With the demonic thought currently parasitizing his senior uncle, could he not act?

Mo Hua thought about it—but couldn't figure it out.

The blood-robed old man at late Jin Dan was the highest-realm cultivator Mo Hua had ever seen die beneath Dao Heart Sows Demons.

He had never seen his senior uncle target a cultivator of higher realm.

With no reference, he could not analyze it.

But it was too far from him—Mo Hua did not dwell on it.

The urgent task was to start from the basics and concrete examples, analyzing Dao Heart Sows Demons bit by bit.

As he watched more, Mo Hua gradually grew familiar with the methods of Dao Heart Sows Demons.

Though its surface was complex, strange, and unfathomable,

its essence remained the manipulation of spiritual awareness.

Mo Hua felt a sudden clarity—but still faintly sensed he had not crossed the threshold, had not truly grasped the concept of Dao Heart Sows Demons.

He needed to watch more, learn more, think more…

Every time the Weird Daoist used Dao Heart Sows Demons to kill someone, Mo Hua's understanding of it deepened a little more.

At first, the Weird Daoist sensed nothing.

Later, after using Dao Heart Sows Demons to kill several demonic cultivators, he noticed Mo Hua was unusually quiet, turned back—and saw Mo Hua, his large eyes gleaming intently fixed on him.

As if memorizing something, calculating something, learning something, and summarizing something all at once…

At first thoughtful, then suddenly enlightened, his eyes growing brighter and brighter…

The Weird Daoist's pitch-black pupils trembled—he was utterly stunned.

This little thing… what is he stealing?!

Stealing Dao Heart Sows Demons?!

How in the world did his younger brother find such a deranged little disciple?!

The Weird Daoist's wooden face shifted through expressions, then settled back into calm.

He said nothing—but from then on, his killing grew restrained.

He no longer killed indiscriminately.

Dao Heart Sows Demons was used with great restraint.

Even when used, he employed only the simplest, most basic methods of sowing demons.

Mo Hua noticed—and quietly asked:

"Senior Uncle, these demonic cultivators are scheming against Master—won't you kill them?"

But the Weird Daoist's expression remained indifferent—he ignored him entirely.

Mo Hua sighed—he understood now: the Weird Daoist was guarding against him.

Hide it from him, don't let him see!

Mo Hua was a little unhappy, muttering to himself, "My uncle is so stingy…"

He wouldn't even let me look.

I haven't even figured it out yet…

But Mo Hua had no choice.

"Fine, don't show me then…"

He could only memorize the scenes of the Dao Heart Seed Demon technique, recalling them one by one in his mind, turning them over and over when idle, studying them meticulously, trying to glean some methods of spirit manipulation—from his uncle, who had reached the pinnacle of spirit technique…

…

The two were still on their way to Shancheng.

Several days later, one evening.

Mo Hua followed the Weird Daoist into a ruined temple.

No one knew what this temple had once enshrined; it had long been neglected, crumbling, its doors and windows broken.

Yet for some reason, the Weird Daoist insisted on spending the night in this ruin.

At night, the moonlight was cold and clear.

A mountain breeze passed, bringing a chill.

Mo Hua drew a Warm Fire Array on the ground himself, using it to warm himself, and placed on it the wild sweet potatoes, wild yams, and several fish he had gathered along the way to roast.

As he roasted, he heard footsteps.

It seemed several people were approaching the ruined temple.

At the same time, faint voices drifted in:

"... Maybe we should go back…"

"... Are you willing to give up?"

"We have no choice…"

"The situation near Great Li Mountain is chaotic; we can't stay here anymore, and besides, Young Master Yun can't afford any mishaps…"

Young Master Yun?

Mo Hua froze.

The voices grew closer.

Mo Hua recognized them: one elderly, one middle-aged, and one youthful.

They were the same three he had met in Nanyue City.

"Senior, don't worry about me, I—"

"What are you saying? Your father entrusted you to me. If you die, how can I face him?"

"In my opinion, if we proceed carefully, there may still be a chance…"

That was the middle-aged cultivator's voice.

"You're good at divination—surely you can turn misfortune into fortune…"

"Precisely because I'm good at divination, I don't want to stay here."

"These days, I've felt my heart race and my flesh tremble—I sense some great calamity coming. I can't sleep day or night, which is why I want to leave…"

"If we leave, the opportunity is gone…"

"Stop dreaming. The true demons of Great Li Mountain haven't even arrived yet…"

"Our Dao Court isn't short of great cultivators, is it?"

"Is that the same thing? You—"

The three spoke as they entered the ruined temple, looked up—and froze upon seeing Mo Hua and the Weird Daoist.

The Weird Daoist sat in the shadows, indistinct and blurred.

Mo Hua had drawn the Warm Fire Array, warming himself, his small face glowing red in the firelight, his cheeks bulging with sweet potato.

The withered old man—Mo Hua remembered he was surnamed Wen—after a moment of shock and suspicion, bowed and said:

"This old man and his two companions are passing through and wish to spend the night here. We apologize for the disturbance—please forgive us!"

After speaking, the withered old man glanced at Mo Hua, puzzled.

He felt that under the dark night and howling wind, in this crumbling temple, it was strange for this child to sit so carelessly, roasting food and eating.

Yet he also felt Mo Hua looked familiar.

He was certain he had seen him somewhere before—and the memory should have been vivid.

But he couldn't recall where.

Mo Hua was also surprised.

These three hadn't recognized him.

But it didn't matter—under these circumstances, pretending not to know was better.

Mo Hua said nothing, only nodded.

The withered old man bowed again in thanks; the middle-aged cultivator, arrogant, sat down directly.

Young Master Yun, too, glanced at Mo Hua with confusion, stared for a moment, still didn't recognize him, and finally gave a slight bow as thanks.

Mo Hua remembered Young Master Yun clearly.

A second-rank Array Master, thin-skinned, shy, yet kind-hearted and generous, never hoarding knowledge in arraycraft.

He had a decent relationship with Mo Hua.

Mo Hua turned his head, stole a glance at the Weird Daoist, and felt worried.

Would his "uncle" kill these three…?

He held the sweet potato without eating it, and instead studied the Daoist of Guile intently. He found that his aura was steady, his six senses—sight, sound, smell, taste, touch, and mind—all restrained, with no sign of the Dao Heart Demon Seed technique being used. Only then did he slowly let out a breath of relief.

Mo Hua took advantage of the warmth to finish the sweet potato, then dimmed the warming fire array's light a little.

The night grew deeper, and it shrouded the Daoist of Guile's figure in even darker obscurity.

Mo Hua gave a slight nod.

This way, Young Master Yun and the others wouldn't be able to see the "Senior Uncle-Martial's" figure.

On the other side, Young Master Yun and his two companions found a clean patch of ground, sat down on the bare earth, and began to talk in low voices.

They seemed afraid that Mo Hua and the two outsiders would overhear, so their voices were very low and their words very guarded.

Mo Hua's divine sense was exceptional, so he could catch a little, though it was muddled and unclear.

It seemed the gaunt old man wanted to leave, the middle-aged cultivator disagreed, and Young Master Yun was wavering—wanting to go, yet still thinking of something, reluctant to part with it.

The middle-aged cultivator mocked the gaunt old man: "The older you get, the smaller your courage."

The gaunt old man retorted: "It's precisely because my courage is small that I've lived this long."

He glanced at the middle-aged cultivator and said coldly with a sneer: "You may not even live to my age…"

The two argued briefly for a while, then began chatting about the Dao Court and the Mo Sect. They said a great deal, and it sounded very impressive, but Mo Hua's experience was limited—not a single one of the names was familiar to him.

Things like some Venerable, some Immortal Lady, some Rakshasa, some Valley Master, some Old Ancestor, and the like…

Who were these people, what were their identities and statuses, what grudges did they hold.

They prattled on for a long time.

Mo Hua didn't know these people, and listening to their talk—mostly trivial matters like aristocratic marriages, clan promotions, an Old Ancestor's grand birthday, the burial of an ancestor—found it boring, and began to feel drowsy.

Half-asleep, half-awake, Mo Hua suddenly heard them say:

"You say that person… what exactly does he have on him?"

Mo Hua gave a start and was instantly wide awake.

That person…

Were they talking about… Master?

Mo Hua subtly raised his head to look.

The gaunt old man's expression was solemn, Ye Yuyan.

The middle-aged cultivator's gaze sharpened. "You actually really know?"

The gaunt old man was silent.

The middle-aged cultivator said impatiently: "Things have come to this, just say it…"

Young Master Yun was also somewhat curious.

After a long internal struggle, the gaunt old man sighed and said: "I… also only heard about it. You all just know and don't speak of it to outsiders…"

The middle-aged cultivator assured him: "Don't worry."

The gaunt old man sighed again, then continued:

"The old Sect Master of our branch was skilled in derivation, with extremely senior qualifications. Unfortunately, before his death his Sea of Consciousness failed, his mind grew dull, and his speech became somewhat… unguarded…"

The gaunt old man didn't want to be disrespectful to his forebear, so he put it very tactfully.

"One day, he accidentally let something slip, and I happened to overhear it…"

"He said the secret that person carries involves… the Ruins of Return Heavenly Burial…"

The Ruins of Return Heavenly Burial?

What does it mean?

Mo Hua frowned.

Suddenly the surrounding aura shifted. Mo Hua Sun Yi Leng, turned to look at the Daoist of Guile, and his expression changed drastically.

Under the pitch-black night, the Daoist of Guile had already opened his eyes. His pupils were darker than the night itself, his aura rose and fell, and his six senses had undergone a strange change.

He… had developed the intent to kill!

Can't write anymore today, I'll write more tomorrow.

(End of Chapter)