Chapter 578: Night of Surprise

The deep mountains were steep, their scenery serene and beautiful.

Fallen leaves lay in a thick layer, rotted and fused with the soil, soft underfoot.

Pale yellow miasma floated among the hills.

Milky mist clung to the forest.

A gentle stream flowed from nowhere, soaking the jagged rocks, and vanished toward no known destination.

Mo Hua swallowed a Miasma-Repelling Pill, expelled the miasma from his body, extended his spiritual sense, guarded against the beasts in the forest, and cautiously walked north along the rugged mountain path.

He walked most of the day until the sun set, dusk enveloping the mountains, the deep forest growing darker and more profound.

Mo Hua looked up and saw the night deepened, the mist thickened, and the miasma blocked his spiritual sense.

The range of his spiritual perception was less than half of what it had been by day.

The beastly aura in the mountains also grew denser.

Some "nocturnal, diurnal-sleeping" beasts seemed to stir awake, emitting strange, inexplicable low growls that echoed faintly through the desolate night.

Mo Hua frowned.

It seemed he couldn't travel through the night…

He recalled the old man's words about the ruined temple, remembered its location, extended his spiritual sense, found a direction, and walked toward a hidden mountain path.

After passing through a grove of trees, climbing over a massive boulder, and walking another half-hour, he finally saw a ruined temple on the mountainside.

The temple was dilapidated, yet carried a faint trace of human presence, as if occasional cultivators passed through and rested here.

The beastly aura and miasma nearby were also lighter.

Before the temple stood a simple, steep stone staircase.

Mo Hua ascended the steps, his body flowing like water, his steps light, and soon reached the temple's entrance.

One door of the temple was missing; the other, weathered by sun and rain, was peeling and battered.

Inside, the walls were drafty and filthy.

Cold moonlight streamed through the roof, illuminating a clay statue in the center, its face glowing faintly white, eerie and chilling.

The statue's face was elongated, human-like, yet devoid of any true human expression.

Under the moonlight, its eyes gleamed with something unnatural, staring through the pitch-black night with a gaze that was neither human nor beast.

Mo Hua felt no fear; he opened his wide eyes and stared back at the statue.

After a while, perhaps due to the shifting moonlight, the statue's gaze silently drifted away…

But Mo Hua did not let it go; he walked right up to the statue, his eyes deep and fixed upon it.

The statue instantly became still, obedient, and quiet.

Mo Hua leapt onto the altar and examined the statue from all angles, muttering to himself:

"Strange… why is there nothing here?"

"There should be something…"

"I couldn't have been mistaken…"

Mo Hua looked puzzled.

The statue's eyes had lost all luster, even seemed eager to shut them.

Mo Hua licked his lips. "What a pity…"

Then he jumped down from the altar, cleared a patch of ground, and used his spiritual sense to summon ink and draw a Warm Fire Array.

As the Warm Fire Array ignited, orange-yellow flames rose, dispelling the night's darkness and the mountain's chill.

Mo Hua wrapped himself in a small blanket, warmed by the fire, feeling thoroughly cozy.

The warmth rose, and suddenly he felt hungry; he rummaged through his storage pouch and pulled out some mountain sweet potatoes and dried meat, placing them on the Warm Fire Array to roast.

Roasting by the fire, he ate the sweet, sticky mountain tubers, chewed the spicy beef, and sipped the sweet, clear fruit wine his mother had brewed.

Mo Hua swayed his head, utterly content.

After eating and drinking his fill, Mo Hua extinguished the Warm Fire Array, wrapped the blanket tightly around himself, and, lulled by the lingering warmth on the ground, fell into sleep.

The ruined temple fell silent.

The cold moonlight fell again, illuminating the eyes of the clay statue upon the altar.

The statue's icy gaze slowly lowered, fixing upon Mo Hua, curled up like a "little rice ball," oblivious and snoring loudly.

The statue's gaze flickered, as if lost in thought.

After a full cup of tea's time, a faint white glow surfaced on the statue.

The glow was insubstantial, illusory, vague and obscure.

Detectable by spiritual sense, invisible to the eye.

The white glow gradually stretched, slowly coalescing into a slender human silhouette.

It emerged from within the statue, body human-like, face demonic, with long whiskers, narrow eyes, and yellow fur.

The demonic shadow crept silently, carried by gusts of cold wind, approaching Mo Hua, extending its long claws, speaking in a strange voice:

"Young friend…"

"Turn around and look…"

"Look… who I am…"

It sought to weave this sinister whisper into the young cultivator's dream.

To jolt him awake from sleep.

But before it finished speaking, the "sleeping" Mo Hua suddenly turned his small head, his wide eyes fixed on it, and asked:

"Who are you?"

The demonic figure with its sinister face was startled.

"You, you're not asleep?"

Then it was startled again, "No, you can see me?"

"Didn't you tell me to look at you?" Mo Hua said, puzzled.

"No, no…"

The demon shadow shook its head again and again. The "look" it meant was to look in a dream—to look at the nightmare it had manifested, eerie and terrifying.

Not to actually use one's eyes to look in reality.

The demon shadow was a little flustered. "What's going on with this little brat…"

How on earth did he manage to see it?

Could it be… his divine sense is just too strong?

That couldn't be either. He's just a little brat—how strong could his divine sense possibly be?

"Who are you?" Mo Hua asked again.

The demon shadow came back to its senses, its face showing anger. It had just been about to say something when it saw Mo Hua's gaze—clear and sharp, and even carrying… a trace of the uncanny, as if it would see right through it.

The demon shadow's heart gave a sudden lurch, and then it heard Mo Hua's crisp voice:

"Are you the thing inside that clay statue just now?"

"The clay statue in the mountain god temple…"

"Are you the mountain god?"

"No, that's not right. The old grandpa at the foot of the mountain told me the mountain god turned into a fiend and has already been slain."

"So, you're an impostor?"

"A human body with a demon's face, parasitizing a clay statue—that means you're neither human nor demon, but a wisp of divine will. Either a fiend born of heaven and earth, or a ghost that has taken human form…"

The demon shadow's heart sank.

How does this little brat know so much?

How old is he? He talks as if he deals with these demons and ghosts every single day…

The demon shadow revealed a fierce look and said, "Scared now, aren't you? Since you know, why don't you hurry up and…"

Before it could finish speaking, it saw a fireball whistling toward it.

This fireball was both fast and accurate, flames curling around it, heading straight for the demon shadow's face.

But the fireball didn't hit; it passed right through the demon shadow's face and flew straight out the door. With a burst of explosion, flames spread and incinerated a few chunks of mountain rock.

The demon shadow froze, then flew into a rage.

A fireball spell right in the face!

This outsider little cultivator has no manners at all!

Can't even exchange a few words before throwing a fireball?

Luckily it's a body of divine will—spells formed of spiritual power can't harm a body of thought. Otherwise, taking that hit to the face, wouldn't it have ruined its looks?!

"How dare you!"

The demon shadow's face was full of fury. It would teach this little cultivator a lesson, teach him some of the rules of being a cultivator!

But Mo Hua acted as if he hadn't seen it…

"The fireball spell didn't work…"

"Is it because the damage is on the spiritual-power level…"

"Evil thoughts… divine sense…"

Mo Hua muttered to himself as he pondered.

All his previous clashes of divine sense had taken place inside the sea of consciousness—one method, one technique, all manifested through divine sense, capable of harming evil thoughts.

But now they were outside the sea of consciousness, and Mo Hua lacked experience, not knowing what method would work well.

Mo Hua pondered on his own.

The demon shadow was even more furious.

A mere child, utterly disrespectful!

This was simply not putting it in his eyes at all.

It had, after all, once been a mountain god of a region, worshipped by the people. Though fallen on hard times now, it shouldn't have sunk to being bullied by a little brat to this extent!

In its own temple, bolstered by its own divine statue, its thought-power was stable.

And it was a body of divine will—blood and qi couldn't harm it, spiritual power couldn't invade it. Basically, it stood in an invincible position.

Originally, considering the little brat was young, scaring him off would have been enough.

But since the brat was so ungrateful, it would have to get serious and let him learn just how treacherous the path of cultivation was…

The demon shadow's eyes turned crimson, its aura surged, climbing higher and higher. Its once emaciated frame gradually grew burly, hair sprouting from its limbs, transforming into a massive "yellow weasel"…

Mo Hua watched, not only unafraid but quite fascinated.

He'd seen transformations into "evil ghosts," and into "jiangshi," but this was the first time he'd seen one turn into a "weasel"…

The yellow weasel stared at Mo Hua with a savage look, seeming about to make a move.

Mo Hua thought briefly, decided to strike first. With a small flick of his finger, beneath the yellow weasel's feet he laid a formation with spiritual ink, drawing out a Golden Lock Formation.

A first-grade Golden Lock Formation was simple, so he laid it very quickly.

Once the Golden Lock Formation was complete, chains formed and bound the yellow weasel's demon shadow.

The yellow weasel was restrained by the Golden Lock Formation. It struggled a few times, then snapped the chains, breaking free. But in its heart it was still greatly alarmed.

"A formation?"

"No brush, no paper—how did this little brat lay one down?"

Mo Hua, however, nodded to himself.

I was right to think so.

The power of a spell is determined by Qi.

The damage of an array, though also composed of Qi, contains the principles of the Dao and condenses vast amounts of Shen Yi.

Use Shen Yi to suppress Shen Nian.

Therefore, spells cannot harm it.

But arrays are effective against this "Huang Pizi" spirit—bloodless, fleshless, devoid of Qi and spirit, its body unharmed, its Qi undiminished.

Yet compared to arrays in the mind-sea, composed purely of Shen Yi, its power is slightly weaker.

But as long as it's useful…

Moreover, what I'm using now is only a Grade-One array.

Mo Hua pulled out several bottles of Spirit Ink and began to hold his breath, focus his mind, and use Shen Yi to weave a more complex array…

The Huang Pizi, seeing Mo Hua's calm expression, felt a flicker of unease…

It sensed that things were slipping slightly beyond its control…

This brat isn't flustered or confused—he keeps launching one move after another, brimming with confidence. I can't read him anymore.

Give up?

But if a mighty Mountain God can't defeat a mere brat, won't he be laughed at?

The Huang Pizi gritted its teeth, steeling itself, and lunged toward Mo Hua.

But before it could reach Mo Hua, golden ink patterns appeared beneath its feet, coalescing into three layers of Golden Lock Array, binding it tightly.

The Huang Pizi clawed and bit, struggling desperately to break free.

The Grade-One Golden Lock Array—even now diminished, its power far from its former glory—it could still handle.

But before it could fully escape, it looked down and saw even more Golden Lock Arrays forming beneath its feet.

The Huang Pizi was stunned and terrified.

"What's going on with this brat?"

"What kind of education did he get? How can he still draw arrays like this?!"

If he keeps drawing like this, I can't win…

The Huang Pizi began to consider retreating.

"Should I beg for mercy?"

The thought had barely surfaced when the Huang Pizi rejected it.

I am a mighty Mountain God—how could I beg a brat for mercy? Wouldn't I be laughed to death?

I'll just hold on for now…

A mere cultivator, even if his Shen Yi is strong and his array skills better, how long can he last?

When both of us are exhausted, I'll pretend to yield, declare a draw, and end this—no one will lose too much face…

But before it could finish thinking, its eyelids began to twitch violently.

It realized that, without warning, crimson patterns had appeared all around it—fierce Qi flowed through them, vast Shen Nian surged within…

A Grade-Two array!

Not just any Grade-Two array—at least a Grade-Two Low Rank, twelve- or thirteen-pattern killing array!

The Huang Pizi trembled, widened its eyes, and immediately abandoned its Mountain God's dignity, shouting:

"Young friend! Young friend!"

"Let's talk this over!"

Mo Hua ignored it and continued laying the array…

The Huang Pizi gritted its teeth and yelled: "Young Master! Xiaozu!"

"Please, stop drawing! If you draw any more, I'll be dead!"

I barely managed to form this broken body—if I get blasted again, I'll be utterly scattered, lost forever…

Mo Hua stopped.

Not because he truly wanted to stop—but because he couldn't continue.

Though his Shen Yi was strong, using such a high-difficulty Shen Yi array technique to draw a Grade-Two Thirteen-Pattern Earthfire Array was already taxing.

Earlier, laying the Golden Lock Arrays had consumed much of his Shen Yi.

Now, this Grade-Two Earthfire Array probably couldn't be completed—even if he finished it, his Shen Yi would be nearly depleted.

Moreover, this Huang Pizi was being so cooperative—it had even called him Xiaozu—so Mo Hua, being magnanimous, decided to spare it for now.

Mo Hua walked up to the Huang Pizi and asked:

"You wanted to kill me?"

The Huang Pizi sighed helplessly: "I only meant to scare you…"

Mo Hua frowned. "Why scare me for no reason?"

The Huang Pizi smiled bitterly. "Your Shen Yi is unusual. The moment you entered, you stared at the Mountain God statue—as if you saw something…"

"I feared you'd uncover my secret and bring disaster, so I tried to scare you into leaving early. I had no other ill intent…"

"Oh…" Mo Hua nodded, half-convinced, then asked: "Who are you?"

The Huang Pizi said: "I am the Mountain God of this place…"

Mo Hua raised an eyebrow. "Lies. The Mountain God here was slain!"

The Huang Pizi hurried to say: "I dare not deceive you, Young Friend. I truly am the Mountain God—my name is Huang Shanjun. I wear the pelt of a yellow demon, bear the surname Huang, and am the Mountain God—hence 'Shanjun'…"

"Long ago, during my Dao cultivation, I went astray—evil thoughts took root—and was once slain by righteous cultivators…"

"But because my roots ran deep, I retained a sliver of life."

"Over these years, I have guarded this ruined temple, driven away miasma and exorcised demons, providing rest for traveling cultivators—this has also forged a slight bond of good fortune."

"Moreover, the worship of the mountain god statue has gathered a trace of incense offering."

"This has coalesced into this broken vessel of mine, though my strength is a mere shadow of what it once was—merely clinging to life..."

Huang Shanjun sighed.

Mo Hua saw his expression was not feigned, so he reluctantly believed him a little, but still snapped a warning:

"You'd better not lie to me, or I'll eat you!"

Huang Shanjun blinked, slightly amused.

He thought: clearly a child—he doesn't even know how to threaten properly.

I'm a divine thought—how could he possibly...

Huang Shanjun suddenly froze—the moment the word "eat" surfaced, he felt the karmic threads tug violently, his heart trembling with dread.

"This..."

Could this little cultivator truly eat me?

No... perhaps he has already eaten many...

Huang Shanjun opened his mouth, eyes wide with terror.

"What exactly is this little cultivator? How is he even scarier than me?"

Huang Shanjun wanted to slap himself.

Why did I have to be so unlucky and attract this little calamity?!

When this Xiaozu first entered, why didn't I just hide inside the clay statue and pretend to be dead?

Why did I have to be a fool and take a single glance at him?

That one glance nearly cost me my life...

Huang Shanjun's heart turned bitter.

But Mo Hua stared at Huang Shanjun, then suddenly asked:

"I have a few questions for you."

Huang Shanjun immediately shed his demonic form, revealing his human body with a demonic face, and bowed respectfully:

"Little Mr., please ask!"

Mo Hua asked: "You are a divine thought—but are you technically a human or a demon? And what exactly is a mountain god?"

"What does it mean to be a 'god'?"

Mo Hua asked several questions in rapid succession.

Huang Shanjun was surprised.

He had assumed this little cultivator, with such formidable mastery over divine thought and killing techniques, must come from an extremely profound lineage—but these questions he asked were oddly uneven in depth.

He knew things he shouldn't—knew them, and knew them terrifyingly well.

Yet the things he ought to know, he seemed to know little of...

"Is his inheritance incomplete? Or did his master only teach him half?"

Huang Shanjun speculated inwardly, but dared not conceal anything.

He feared this little cultivator was testing him—pretending ignorance while actually knowing everything, waiting to trap him in his own words and "eat" him.

In the perilous path of cultivation, such a thing was not impossible...

Huang Shanjun said:

"All divine thought bodies in the world—like a cultivator's divine awareness, a ghost's ghostly thought, or a malevolent entity's evil thought—are equally illusory and insubstantial 'thought-forms.'"

"A ghost is a thought-form."

"When a cultivator reaches his end, his body dies and his Dao dissolves; the divine thought that remains after death usually becomes a ghost."

"Ghosts and malevolent entities, their minds scattered and warped, devour human divine awareness to sustain their own ghostly thoughts—especially the divine awareness of close kin, which is especially nourishing to ghosts."

"A 'god' is also a thought-form."

"But becoming a god is exceedingly difficult—it is tied to the Dao, karma, worship, and incense offerings."

"I am merely a minor mountain god, having received a little incense and devotion, and by chance attained the position of mountain god—but I know nothing of deeper truths..."

"Especially..."

Huang Shanjun's face turned fearful. "In this world, it is said there exist ancient, supreme demonic gods, evil gods, and demonic deities—born since primordial times..."

"These beings are unseen, unknowable—even approaching the Dao, approaching the Immortals..."

Mo Hua's heart tightened slightly.

This cultivation world seemed larger, deeper, and far more terrifyingly complex than he had imagined...

Mo Hua glanced again at Huang Shanjun and asked doubtfully:

"Mountain gods—do they cultivate the righteous path? Are they good?"

Huang Shanjun smiled awkwardly. "I suppose so... at least their divine awareness remains clear; they seek incense offerings, seek bonds of good fortune, and accrue virtuous fruits..."

"Then why did you turn evil before? And get cut down?" Mo Hua asked curiously.

Huang Shanjun felt as if a knife had pierced his chest. After a pause, he sighed helplessly:

"This... ah, on the path of cultivation, missteps are inevitable..."

"I grew too comfortable as a mountain god. My divine thought had not grown for a long time, so I entertained wicked thoughts—I ate... I ate a few people..."

Mo Hua's gaze turned cold.

Huang Shanjun's whole body chilled. He immediately said: "Not 'I'—it was the 'I' of the past..."

Mo Hua's small face remained stern. "Isn't the 'I' of the past still you?"

Huang Shanjun wanted to cry. "Evil thoughts took root—two thoughts within one body. I had no choice..."

"And then?"

"And then… I devoured a few people. My divine sense was tainted, but it truly grew stronger. Just when 'I'—no, when that old me was preening myself, a cultivator from a nearby orthodox sect calculated it out…"

"There was a sword cultivator in white, with a profound realm. A single sword strike cut me down…"

"After cutting me down, because of the good karma I had built before, a sliver of my breath still remained…"

"That sword cultivator said things like 'Heaven has a virtue of cherishing life,' 'In death there is life, it cannot be severed,' 'Leave a thread of living hope,' and spared me."

"But he also warned me that if I committed evil again, he would cut me down to the last."

"So, Mr., I truly don't dare to harm you…"

Huang Shanjun wished he could rip open his heart and show it to Mo Hua.

"Mm, mm." Mo Hua nodded, then suddenly thought of another question and asked:

"You're a mountain god, a divine-sense body. How did that sword cultivator use a sword to cut you down?"

"It was…"

As if recalling the scene from that moment, an immense terror still lingered in Huang Shanjun's eyes.

"Divine sense transformed into a sword…"

Sun Yi Leng, then his eyes lit up brightly.

Divine sense…

Transformed into a sword!!

(End of chapter)