Chapter 598: Senior Brother

The lecture hall fell silent, then erupted in murmurs.

"Mo Hua teaching?"

"Why would they let him teach?"

"…"

Mr. Xun's expression darkened, his gaze sweeping across the room.

The disciples, cowed by Mr. Xun's authority, immediately fell silent, daring not to whisper further.

Mo Hua whispered, "Mr. Xun, I'm not suitable to teach…"

Mr. Xun said calmly, "You are suitable."

What's unsuitable about a cultivator with solid foundations who can draw a precise Second-Rank Mid-Level array teaching a few First-Rank arrays?

"But…"

Mo Hua hesitated.

Mr. Xun looked at Mo Hua with deep meaning, "Teach well."

Mo Hua froze.

He felt Mr. Xun's words carried hidden intent, but for now, he couldn't fathom why…

Seeing Mr. Xun's unyielding expression, Mo Hua could only bow and say:

"Yes, Mr. Xun."

Mr. Xun gave a slight nod, handed Mo Hua several lecture scrolls, and instructed:

"Teach these two. Be bold—don't worry."

After speaking, Mr. Xun rose and left, his steps both ethereal and solid, heading toward the back mountain.

In the lecture hall, only Mo Hua and the disciples remained, staring at each other in silence.

Mo Hua felt awkward, but remembering Mr. Xun's orders, he gritted his teeth and opened the scrolls—yet before he could speak, a tall boy stood up.

This tall boy's surname was Cheng, name Mo; he was a body cultivator, tall in stature, and though called Cheng Mo, he was usually a chatterbox.

Seeing Mr. Xun far away, Cheng Mo gathered courage and said with a hint of defiance:

"Mo Hua, though we're on good terms, I must speak plainly—I don't accept you teaching me arrays!"

I Cheng Mo have pride too!

He silently added in his heart.

The other disciples nodded in agreement.

In their own families, they were all "heaven-favored children"; at Grand Void Gate, surrounded by other prodigies, they had tempered themselves—but inwardly, they all carried pride.

Elders and instructors may teach.

But ordinary disciples have no right to teach them.

Even if Mo Hua was well-liked and they held no ill will toward him, when it came to something like "master-disciple" transmission, they could not remain indifferent—they demanded justification.

Mo Hua sighed.

He had wanted to keep a low profile, quietly cultivating and studying arrays.

But for some reason, Mr. Xun had made him step into the spotlight now.

Still, since the moment had come, Mo Hua would not fear.

In arrays, he had never feared anyone!

Especially not these young cultivators his own age!

Mo Hua's eyes and brows subtly took on a look of haughty disdain, like Master Zhuang's.

"Then tell me—what qualifies someone?"

Cheng Mo's gaze sharpened. "Let's compete!"

Mo Hua stared at him silently. "You?"

Under Mo Hua's clear, slightly sharp gaze, Cheng Mo instantly felt uneasy.

"I… I…"

He was fairly familiar with Mo Hua and knew roughly his array strength—even if he didn't know the exact level, it was certainly far superior to his own.

He had stood up out of momentary indignation, his head overheated.

But actually competing with Mo Hua in arrays was sheer overconfidence.

In the sect, his array skill, while not the absolute worst, was among the lowest.

Him competing with Mo Hua in arrays was like Mo Hua competing with him in body cultivation…

At that moment, another disciple stood up. "If you're going to teach us, you must compete against all of us!"

He too felt a twinge of unease.

To fight one against many—even if they won, it would be dishonorable.

But Mo Hua replied casually, "Fine. Come all at once."

The lecture hall fell utterly silent.

The disciples stared in shock—they never expected the usually gentle Mo Hua to say something so "arrogant"!

Instantly, the crowd erupted in fury.

"Good!"

"Let's settle this in arrays—true skill against true skill!"

"Little Mo Hua, I'll show you what 'heaven has higher heavens' means!"

"After you lose, you call us 'Brother'!"

"What 'Brother'? You call us 'Senior Brother'!"

"By the way, you have to call us Big Brother!"

……

Mo Hua snorted—who's calling whom "Big Brother" isn't decided yet.

In array discourse, there are always established protocols.

Mo Hua had rarely participated in such formal array competitions; he had only briefly tested his skills back at the Wuxing Sect.

Though the format was complex and full of variations.

But in essence, it boiled down to who could draw faster, who could draw better, and who could draw more difficult patterns.

The current contest was much the same.

And since it was held in the Transmission Chamber, where classes were still ongoing, time was limited, so it had to be simplified further—just determine a winner.

First, compare who draws faster.

But at this first step, the disciples froze.

They had all seen how fast Mo Hua drew arrays.

Like flowing clouds and running water, too swift to follow—those small hands painted lines and dots so fast they nearly left afterimages…

But losing the contest doesn't mean losing face!

Even if we lose in the end, we won't show weakness!

Until we compete, the outcome isn't certain.

Several disciples who believed their array-drawing speed was decent stepped forward with "generous" expressions, facing Mo Hua on the massive array platform before the lecture, competing to see who could draw faster…

And they were utterly defeated.

Before they'd even finished half, Mo Hua had already completed his entire array—and still had energy to spare; it seemed he deliberately slowed down slightly to spare their dignity…

The disciples turned ashen-faced, humiliated, and withdrew.

Next, compare who draws better.

For the same array, whoever draws it more accurately, with more elegant strokes and deeper foundational skill, wins.

All disciples present had studied arrays, drawn array patterns, and possessed foundational skill—their superiority or inferiority was instantly obvious.

Several more disciples stepped forward, brimming with confidence.

They had received their family's true transmission of array arts; their array patterns on the platform were all neat and beautiful, and after finishing, they felt quite pleased with themselves.

But when they glanced at Mo Hua's array, they were momentarily stunned.

The array lines were perfectly aligned, without a single deviation, as if directly copied from an array scripture.

Moreover, the brushstrokes were like silver hooks and iron strokes—strong and forceful.

It was a Earth-element array.

Mo Hua had also subtly connected with a trace of Earth Dao essence, so the entire array exuded a tranquil, profound aura.

Perfect in form and spirit.

"Form"—neatness—can be achieved with effort, but the "spirit's" resonance cannot be painted so easily.

Without saying a word, they knew they had lost.

Finally, compare who draws the more difficult array.

A disciple from a noble family stepped forward, dressed in white robes, handsome in appearance; Mo Hua remembered this disciple was a direct scion of the Wen family of Qianzhou, named Wen Xuan.

Wen Xuan's expression was calm; he dipped his brush in ink and began drawing a second-rank, eleven-line array.

Mo Hua was slightly surprised, and inwardly sighed.

Noble scions truly were extraordinary—already at Foundation Establishment early stage, he could draw a second-rank, eleven-line array.

Truly remarkable…

Mo Hua nodded.

Since he was a genius, he must be carefully "nurtured," carefully encouraged.

He must be shown a slight gap, to give him motivation to catch up.

But he must not be shown too great a gap, lest he feel hopeless and lose faith in pursuing the Dao of arrays.

Mo Hua pondered with "great thoughtfulness."

Then he thought for a moment, chose a simple second-rank, twelve-line array, slowed his pace, wore a solemn expression, and "gave his all" to draw it.

Wen Xuan's face turned deathly pale; he gasped:

"Twelve lines…"

He looked at the array, then at Mo Hua, and bowed: "I yield."

But his gaze toward Mo Hua burned intensely.

His eyes ignited Xiong Xiong's fighting spirit—he now regarded Mo Hua as his lifelong "rival."

Mo Hua nodded with "satisfaction."

Thus, the contest was largely over.

All disciples fell silent.

Without comparison, one never realizes—only after competing did they know that in arrays, they truly could not surpass Mo Hua…

Those unskilled in arrays, who understood them poorly, felt the contest was swift.

A group of disciples stepped up, drew one array, then stepped down—some even knew they'd lost before finishing.

They went up quickly and came down quickly, meaning they lost quickly.

But those truly proficient in arrays knew the gap was immense…

They vaguely felt that between themselves and Mo Hua lay a deep chasm, constructed entirely of arrays.

This chasm appeared right before their eyes, yet seemed impossible to cross.

And if you weren't careful, you'd fall into a ditch and drown…

Even Mo Hua, usually so easygoing, now appeared to them as "profoundly inscrutable" for the first time…

But Mo Hua felt it was far from enough.

He hadn't even really lifted a finger.

Seeing no one speak, Mo Hua glanced around curiously and asked:

"Any more?"

The disciples fell silent, then, both ashamed and humiliated, looked at Mo Hua with expressions tinged with "outrage."

As if Mo Hua were a vile yet utterly invincible "little demon king."

At that moment, another disciple stood up—his face as square as Fang Zheng, expression stern, clearly disapproving of Mo Hua's "misdeeds."

"I'll go!"

Mo Hua recognized him as somewhat familiar, but didn't know his name.

The disciple said: "My surname is Zheng, name Fang, a clansman of the Zheng family of Zhenzhou."

"Zheng Fang?"

Mo Hua memorized it, then asked: "What do you want to test me on?"

Zheng Fang shook his head. "In formation arts, I admit I'm inferior to you—but if you're to teach me, I won't accept it willingly. So I want to test you."

"Test me?"

"Exactly." Zheng Fang nodded. "My Zheng family possesses a secret transmission of formation arts. I'll draw it once for you—you must replicate it within one hour."

"If you can draw it, I'll admit you have extraordinary insight into formations, profound understanding, and are qualified to teach us!"

"This tests your insight!"

Mo Hua froze, his expression stunned, almost disbelieving.

Test me like this?

Is this even possible?!

You fool, are you testing me—or giving me your family's secret formation?

Mo Hua's eyes sparkled, but he forced himself to look unexcited, his small face stern as he said:

"Yes, you're testing me!"

"Good!"

Zheng Fang's face remained grave as he stepped before the formation plate and said coldly:

"This formation, though only a Rank One, is an introductory formation—but it is uniquely passed down by my Zheng family. I won't tell you its name. I'll draw it only once. If you can't learn it, admit defeat without shame!"

"Mm-hmm!"

Mo Hua, brimming with anticipation, nodded eagerly.

Zheng Fang began to draw.

The moment he made the first stroke, Mo Hua's gaze trembled.

Thunder Pattern!

"This is… Thunder Pattern?"

The Thunder Pattern from the Eight Trigrams formation?!

The Zheng family's secret formation is… a rare Eight Trigrams Thunder-type formation?!

Mo Hua was startled.

Other disciples with broad knowledge also exclaimed:

"This is a Thunder-type formation?"

"It's extremely hard to learn…"

"Even with Mo Hua's insight, he couldn't possibly master it in one hour…"

"Exactly."

"But isn't this a bit cheap…?"

"Seems a bit unsportsmanlike…"

"How so? He was the one boasting he could teach us formations!"

"But… it was Master Xun who told him to teach us—he couldn't defy the old master…"

"Now that you mention it…"

"That does make sense…"

"It's not Mo Hua's fault…"

"I give up—whose side are you on? Do you have any principles? Any stance?!"

…

The disciples murmured among themselves.

Mo Hua, however, focused entirely, his spiritual sense rapidly calculating the trajectory of Zheng Fang's drawn formation lines.

Each stroke of the formation pattern was dissected and calculated by Mo Hua's spiritual sense, revealing its more fundamental spiritual energy pathways.

The entire formation, stroke by stroke, gradually reassembled in his mind, becoming clearer and clearer…

And slowly, it formed the complete picture.

Mo Hua frowned.

This was a peculiar Thunder formation…

Its spiritual energy pathways were gentle—clearly not meant for combat…

And the formation pattern's structure was unusual, differing somewhat from the Thunder Pattern he had studied before.

The array's central structure…

Mo Hua felt a sense of familiarity, but after careful thought, he realized he had never seen it before…

This was truly just a first-rank, nine-stripe basic array, yet its logic was unfamiliar.

From the array diagram alone, Mo Hua could not determine what purpose this array served, let alone discern any related array principles.

Unknown array name, unknown purpose…

A nameless thunder array…

Mo Hua nodded slightly.

No wonder Zheng Fang had taken it out to let him study it—even if he learned it, he wouldn't understand its subtleties or specific function.

Studying it would be pointless.

Mo Hua also remembered Zheng Fang saying this was Zheng family's "entry-level" array.

That meant this array was merely basic?

The true core lay in other arrays derived from this thunder array?

Mo Hua silently glanced at Zheng Fang and secretly labeled him "Treasure-Bearing Child" in his mind.

And this first-rank nameless thunder array, though unfamiliar and its inner workings unknown,

was actually not difficult for Mo Hua to learn, given his own array experience and insight.

Moreover, he could perform Heavenly Mechanism Calculations.

So when Zheng Fang finished drawing the array, turned around, and looked at Mo Hua with confidence, Mo Hua picked up his brush, dipped it in ink, and with the light touch of a dragonfly, calmly and effortlessly drew out the array he had seen only once but had already fully calculated.

Zheng Fang's confident expression froze on his face as he stared at Mo Hua as if at a little monster.

"You… learned this before?"

Mo Hua answered honestly:

"Just now…"

Zheng Fang opened his mouth, then finally walked away with a look of helpless resignation.

But Mo Hua had opened a new line of thought; he looked at the seated disciples and asked with eager anticipation:

"Who else wants to test me?"

Preferably with a harder, rarer array I haven't learned!

Mo Hua silently hoped.

But no one answered.

Mo Hua asked again—still no one spoke.

Mo Hua began to regret it.

He should have pretended more.

Pretended he had "struggled desperately," "exhausted himself," pondered deeply, and barely managed to draw this thunder array…

That way he could "fish" for more arrays.

Miscalculated…

Too hasty…

My cultivation experience is still too shallow—I must pay more attention in the future…

Mo Hua warned himself, then, holding onto a sliver of hope, asked again:

"Any more…?"

Still no one answered.

Mo Hua sighed, then could only say:

"Then I'll teach you now…"

The disciples present froze, then all felt resentment, their faces slightly flushed.

But the situation was settled; there was nothing to be done. In the end, they all lowered their heads obediently and accepted Mo Hua's "teaching."

"Alright, let's begin class!"

Mo Hua said clearly.

Then Mo Hua began teaching.

First-rank arrays were not difficult.

Mo Hua taught with ease.

His mastery of first-rank arrays was profound; he taught with effortless grace.

Occasionally, when he understood some array knowledge but didn't know how to explain it, he recalled Mr. Xun's methods and imitated them, explaining clearly and accessibly.

The other disciples, though outwardly resistant and visibly unimpressed, inwardly accepted it.

They knew Mo Hua's array skill was far superior to theirs.

So even though each of them kept their faces stiff and haughty, they still absorbed everything Mo Hua taught.

Moreover, Mr. Xun, though deeply skilled in arrays, was precisely because his mastery was so profound that he often omitted detailed explanations of basic concepts.

Mo Hua was different.

He had only studied first- and second-rank arrays, with solid foundations, so his summarized insights were easier for these Foundation Establishment beginners to understand.

Furthermore, Mr. Xun was strict and rigid.

Mo Hua was warm and likable.

Thus, without realizing it, every disciple in the teaching hall who truly wished to learn and improve their array skill began to listen attentively to Mo Hua's lectures.

Mo Hua stood before the lectern, calm and composed, speaking fluently.

His bearing and demeanor resembled that of a "junior instructor"…

After some time passed, Mr. Xun returned and, seeing the scene in the teaching hall, his expression flickered with slight surprise.

Having Mo Hua teach these disciples would surely draw resistance from many—that was within his expectations.

These issues must be resolved by Mo Hua himself.

Whether he can "win their respect" depends entirely on Mo Hua's own ability; he cannot interfere.

What Mr. Xun hadn't anticipated was that Mo Hua resolved it so quickly—that these favored children of heaven had become so "obedient" so soon…

Mr. Xun pondered for a moment, then nodded with satisfaction.

He did not disturb Mo Hua, but left directly.

…

From then on, whenever anything arose, Mr. Xun would have Mo Hua "substitute" for him.

Sometimes, even when nothing was amiss, Mr. Xun would lazily "pretend to be absent" and let Mo Hua teach this room of disciples in his stead.

"Disciples" teaching disciples formation techniques.

This matter quickly reached the ears of the Grand Void Gate's elders.

Some disciples' families from Gan Province also learned of it; most grew discontent and applied pressure, urging several powerful elders of the Grand Void Gate to confront Mr. Xun and demand an explanation.

Some true-disciple elders could only grit their teeth and approach Mr. Xun—though unwilling, they had no choice but to speak, gently saying:

"Old Master, is this matter… not against protocol?"

Mr. Xun lowered his head to sip tea, not lifting his eyelids. "What protocol?"

"This…"

The elders hesitated.

How could they say it…

Many of the Grand Void Gate's protocols were still co-authored by this Laozu.

How could they dare mention protocol before him…

Yet Mr. Xun differed from other Laozus who secluded themselves in cultivation or lurked behind the scenes.

Mr. Xun devoted himself entirely to the duty of "transmitting the Dao and instructing students"; at his great age, he still personally taught formation techniques. Though eccentric and stubborn, he held no airs—that was why they dared speak these few words.

One elder, after a moment of thought, whispered:

"Having disciples teach disciples… this is somewhat… lacking in legitimacy."

"Lacking in legitimacy…?" Mr. Xun paused, frowned in thought, then nodded. "Indeed, it is lacking in legitimacy."

The elder's eyes lit up. "Then if so…"

"If so," said Mr. Xun, "then formally appoint him the position of 'Junior Instructor'—that way, it will be 'legitimate and proper'!"

Junior Instructor?!

The elder's stomach twisted in regret; he hurriedly said:

"Old Master, this… a newly admitted outer-disciple holding the title 'Junior Instructor'? Such a thing has never occurred in the Grand Void Gate…"

"Now it has," Mr. Xun nodded. "First precedents always require someone to be the first."

"This… it won't do…"

Other elders chimed in: "Old Master, this move is inappropriate…"

"It's truly… inconceivable."

"Forgive this junior's impertinence, but this does seem… frivolous…"

"Junior Instructor? No, no, no…"

The true-disciple elders debated among themselves.

Mr. Xun sipped his tea and sighed. "I'm not unreasonable. Since you all oppose it, let's compromise—no 'Junior Instructor.' Instead, raise his seniority slightly, and let him be a 'Junior Senior Brother.'"

The other true-disciple elders froze, their hearts jolted.

Bad—trapped.

Mr. Xun was feigning retreat to advance; his original intent likely wasn't even the "Junior Instructor" title…

One true-disciple elder gritted his teeth, still trying to object.

"This still seems…"

Mr. Xun's face darkened, his voice tinged with mild anger:

"What do you mean?"

"I've already conceded—I won't give him the 'Junior Instructor' title. A mere 'Junior Senior Brother'? Just a verbal elevation in seniority, no actual position. Do you still object?"

"Do you think I'm old and my words carry no weight?"

The true-disciple elders felt anguish, sweat beading on their foreheads; finally, they could only flatter:

"Old Master is right—it's just a 'Senior Brother' title…"

With the matter pushed this far, they had no choice but to grit their teeth and say:

"Fine! Give it to him!"

Mr. Xun was satisfied. He nodded, waved his hand, and began shooing them out:

"Disperse, disperse—what's the big deal? All this commotion…"

"This matter is settled!"

The true-disciple elders smiled bitterly, but could only accept it.

At the next formation class, Mr. Xun called Mo Hua to the podium and addressed the disciples below:

"Outside, you each follow your own customs—I won't interfere…"

"But from now on, within this formation-teaching hall…"

Mr. Xun pointed at Mo Hua; his voice was aged, yet firm as iron: "All of you disciples must address him as…"

"Junior Brother!"

(End of chapter)