Chapter 633: Huo Fotuo

A Foundation Establishment late-stage cultivator, wanted by the Dao Ting Si, who cultivates the fire-element Forbidden Art and has slaughtered countless lives—the Huo Fotuo!

Mo Hua's heart tightened.

He thought briefly, and knew he couldn't win.

He was Foundation Establishment early-stage; the Huo Fotuo was Foundation Establishment late-stage. Both were Foundation Establishment, but one at the very start, the other at the very end—the gap in cultivation was too vast.

The formation wouldn't work either.

A man with such deep karmic sins would surely be cunning and highly alert.

To set up a formation and kill him in broad daylight would be like covering one's ears while stealing a bell—he'd never be fooled.

Besides, he had three accomplices.

Two burly men—one with calloused palms, the other with a face full of fat—and a tall, thin cultivator.

They followed the Huo Fotuo; their cultivation must be at least Foundation Establishment mid-stage, possibly even late-stage.

And they were certainly criminal cultivators, evil-doers with ruthless methods.

Mo Hua instantly judged: these villains were beyond his current ability to eliminate.

Mo Hua's heart clenched—he felt as if a powerful divine sense had locked onto him.

Mo Hua pulled out two spirit stones and placed them on the table, forcing his voice to sound normal, crisp:

But as he took one step forward, a low, gentle voice whispered beside his ear:

"Young Master…"

There was no reason he should recognize him.

Especially not under these circumstances—unprepared, a chance encounter…

Mo Hua nodded, stood up, and walked away.

Strangely, that thread of divine sense vanished instantly.

Especially after he glanced at him—his noodle-eating speed visibly increased, then he rose to leave.

If he couldn't be killed, he was either a high-ranking Dao Ting Si official or an experienced Gu Diansi.

Anyone who had seen his face—man, woman, old, or child—he had killed, then burned to ash, leaving no survivors.

The man frowned slightly.

He seemed to glance at him with the corner of his eye, then buried his head back in his noodles.

The shopkeeper smiled: "Young Master, take care on your way."

Their cultivation was at least Jin Dan or higher.

This child felt off.

Though faint, subtle, and the divine sense probe was expertly done—like a dragonfly skimming water, brushing past in an instant.

But years of instinct told him…

Logically, he shouldn't have been recognized…

"Save your own life first!"

When he checked again, there was no trace—only this child eating noodles nearby seemed slightly unusual.

This was very abnormal.

This boy, with his childish face, looked nothing like someone who knew him.

He merely quietly sped up his eating, cheeks puffed out, "huff-huff," gobbling down the rest of the noodles and draining the broth clean.

Mo Hua silently withdrew his gaze, expression unchanged, still lowering his head to slurp his noodles.

This man, possibly the Huo Fotuo, suspected him!

His vigilance was too high, his paranoia too severe…

But he had definitely sensed that faint trace of divine sense probing.

But it couldn't fool someone like him—someone who had spent years fighting for survival, on the razor's edge of life and death.

"Boss, check out!"

Such an expert divine sense probe couldn't possibly be from a mere young cultivator.

The man's gaze darkened slightly, his expression troubled, his mind puzzled…

Eighteen-mark peak divine sense!

Mo Hua sighed, feigning innocence, turning his head to look.

There, at another table, the tall man with a kind face—who had remained silent until now—was staring fixedly at him.

The man's expression was calm, his voice steady, but his gaze held a depth:

"You… know me?"

It was as if…

That thread of probing divine sense was extremely profound; logically, it couldn't be cultivated by such a young cultivator.

In that instant, Mo Hua's heart tightened slightly.

The man's gaze darkened.

He recognized him, knew his identity, and was trying to slip away to avoid risk…

Mo Hua remained expressionless, feigning confusion:

"Uncle, who are you?"

The man's expression was gentle, but his gaze grew steadily deeper.

He needed a way to bluff his way out…

Mo Hua's face stayed calm, his mind racing.

The other big man glanced at Mo Hua and asked, puzzled:

"Big brother, is this brat suspicious?"

The other two also whispered, "Unlikely…"

"Can't tell…"

"Too young…"

"Sect disciple?"

"Eating noodles here alone?"

Mo Hua wasn't wearing the Grand Void Gate's robe—he wore his usual clothes, so they knew nothing of his identity.

The leader, eyes thoughtful, remained silent.

One big man stepped toward Mo Hua and said:

"Brat, whose kid are you? What's your name? What sect? Why are you here alone?"

He sneered, "Don't tell me you came into this mountain just to eat a bowl of noodles…"

Mo Hua's face showed tension, a hint of "fear," putting on an act of "bravado":

"I don't even know who you are—why should I tell you?"

The big man scoffed, "Brat, don't be foolish."

The other three slowly rose, glaring at Mo Hua with hostile eyes.

Mo Hua "fearfully" stepped back two paces.

Nearby, a cultivator stepped forward and accused:

"You're an adult—why bully a child? What kind of skill is that?"

Seeing someone dare interfere, the big man's face darkened; in a flash, he closed the distance, his fist wrapped in grayish spiritual energy, striking out violently.

This punch was powerful and heavy, its aura astonishing.

"Foundation Establishment late stage!"

The cultivator's eyes widened in shock; he barely crossed his arms to block it, but was still blasted a full zhang away, spitting blood.

The big man took a huge step forward, hand drifting toward his waist pouch, as if ready to draw his blade and cut down the meddler.

The leader's gaze turned sharp.

The big man felt cold sweat break on his back—he remembered he couldn't stir up trouble, and with a forced laugh, retracted his hand, spitting at the meddler:

"Get lost!"

The cultivator, knowing he was outmatched, left in fury.

The tea patrons, sensing danger, scattered quickly.

The shopkeeper glanced worriedly at Mo Hua, sighed, and helplessly retreated to a distance.

In a second-grade prefecture like this, a Foundation Establishment late-stage cultivator was far beyond their ability to challenge.

Inside the teahouse, only Mo Hua and the four unknown men remained.

Mo Hua, face tense, whispered timidly:

"You… are bad people?"

The big man licked his lips, grinning sinisterly:

"What do you think?"

The other big man and the gloomy thin man also wore amused smirks.

"You know what? This kid's skin's smooth, lips red, teeth white—looks decent enough…"

At that moment, the leader's gaze sharpened, and he said calmly:

"Little cultivator, stop acting—you're not afraid of us."

At these words, the three big men froze, expressions startled.

Mo Hua dropped his "fearful" expression, looking curious:

"Did I not act well?"

The leader frowned.

The two big men felt mocked, enraged.

The thin man's expression grew even darker.

The big man sneered: "Fine—hard roads are tough, brats are stubborn. Never thought after all these years on the road, I'd misjudge you…"

"You've got guts, brat."

"Speak—did you recognize us?"

Mo Hua shook his head, speaking plainly: "I don't know you."

He had only guessed the leader might be the infamous Huo Fotuo—but as for the other three, he truly had no idea.

The leader's gaze locked onto Mo Hua, silently pondering.

Mo Hua's expression held no deception—he truly didn't recognize them.

At that moment, the gloomy thin man sneered:

"Qiao Lao Wu, waste no words—grab the brat, kill him if needed, sell him if needed, or keep him as a plaything…"

The big man spat: "You slimy bastard, if you want him, you grab him."

Qiao Lao Wu?

Slimy bastard?

One "Qiao," one "Yin."

Mo Hua cross-referenced his list and immediately recognized them.

The one with "Qiao" in his title on the list was called "Blood Woodcutter."

Those bearing the character "Yin" are called Yin Leizi.

There was another big man…

Mo Hua's peripheral vision caught him: his face was thick with muscle, and when angry, his expression twisted like a demon—he instantly remembered:

"Ghost Face Sha!"

Huo Fotuo, Blood Woodcutter, Yin Leizi, Ghost Face Sha!

These four men were indeed all on Jiang Laoda's list.

And all were cultivators drenched in blood!

Mo Hua's expression flickered with sudden understanding; his gaze sharpened.

In that instant, Mo Hua's subtle expression of realization was caught by Huo Fotuo.

Huo Fotuo's gaze turned sharply piercing; a thread of disbelief stirred in his heart.

He recognized us…

All of us?!"

How the hell did this brat figure us out?!"

Our identities are hidden, and we rarely contact each other.

Even if a Gu Diansi from Dao Ting Si were here, he might not recognize all of us.

This brat…

Based only on a fleeting glance and a few scattered words of conversation, he confirmed all four of our identities?!"

What is his background?

Huo Fotuo's gentle expression turned icy in an instant.

Some connections must never see the light.

Given this, this brat cannot be left alive!

"Woodcutter Five," Huo Fotuo said coldly, voice leaving no room for argument, "kill this brat!"

Woodcutter Five froze.

But when Mo Hua heard the word "kill," his expression snapped alert—he bolted, vanishing instantly, leaving only a faint water shadow behind.

Woodcutter Five erupted in fury, "You little brat!"

He whipped out from his storage pouch a long, barbed, bloodstained woodcutter's axe, slashing a streak of crimson light toward Mo Hua's waist.

But Mo Hua's movement was like water, ghostly and light—he slipped away effortlessly.

Woodcutter Five slashed again.

Mo Hua dodged again.

Like cutting water with a knife—but the water never ceased.

No matter how he struck, he could not scratch Mo Hua.

Huo Fotuo sat calmly, eyes deep in thought, not moving.

The other two sat watching, amused; seeing Woodcutter Five and Mo Hua trade blows for over a dozen rounds without capturing the brat, they sneered:

"Woodcutter Five, are you even capable?"

"You can't catch a little brat?"

"Have you been cultivating dog shit all these years?"

…

Woodcutter Five flew into a rage, slashing faster.

Mo Hua "sweated" profusely, stumbling left and right, utterly disheveled—but each time, he evaded Woodcutter Five's blade at the perfect moment.

Huo Fotuo was startled.

"Ghost Face Sha" and "Yin Leizi" both grew grim.

"This kid's movement… has substance…"

Though Woodcutter Five had only recently broken through, he was already at Foundation Establishment's late stage—yet he still couldn't subdue this brat in a short time.

Partly because Woodcutter Five himself focused only on killing, not movement.

But also because this brat's movement was extraordinarily refined.

Huo Fotuo gave a signal.

"Ghost Face Sha" and "Yin Leizi" nodded, their forms like wind, pouncing like wolves to flank Woodcutter Five, surrounding Mo Hua from three sides.

Surrounded by three, Mo Hua's expression grew frantic; his dodging and weaving grew visibly strained.

Yin Leizi and the other two sneered, confident, certain they would capture the brat within ten rounds.

But after three rounds, Mo Hua smirked slyly, seized an opening, and flicked his fingers—three fireballs flew in sequence toward each of their faces.

This attack was lightning-fast.

The three were utterly unprepared; caught off guard, the fireballs struck their faces.

The injuries were minor, but their faces were charred and filthy, their assault broken, and fury surged in their hearts.

In that instant, Mo Hua's movement visibly quickened another notch.

He flowed like water, slipping through the three's encirclement, sprinting straight for the nearby grove.

Only then did Yin Leizi and the other two realize—they cursed inwardly:

"Cunning little bastard!"

So fast a Fireball Technique!

Even faster movement!

Under our threefold encirclement, this brat still held back, playing us like fools!

He was waiting for an opening, to strike unexpectedly and seize a chance to escape.

And indeed, he actually managed to escape!

It was an utter disgrace!

The three old woodcutters ignored the soot on their faces and continued chasing.

Mo Hua kept fleeing; the forest loomed ahead, just moments from freedom—when suddenly, a towering figure appeared before him.

Huo Fotuo!

Mo Hua's gaze sharpened; he had no choice but to stop.

Behind him, the three old woodcutters caught up and halted slowly, surrounding Mo Hua together with Huo Fotuo ahead.

The three, still seething, sneered at Mo Hua.

"Little brat, keep running!"

Mo Hua ignored them, fixing his eyes on the immovable Huo Fotuo. After a moment's thought, his fingers flicked rapidly, launching three fireballs straight at Huo Fotuo.

He wanted to test Huo Fotuo's strength.

What Mo Hua hadn't expected was that Huo Fotuo didn't dodge or evade—he stood still and took all three fireballs directly.

Those three fireballs struck Huo Fotuo like mud sinking into the ocean, instantly absorbed, without a single ripple.

Mo Hua's expression turned stunned.

This was…

What was going on?

But Huo Fotuo's expression remained unchanged, dismissing it lightly:

"Your fireball technique is nothing special. Let me teach you…"

Huo Fotuo opened his arms; flames rippled around him, his eyes blood-red like an ocean of fire.

Such overwhelming presence!

Mo Hua frowned, extending his spiritual sense to sense Huo Fotuo's aura—and then he saw: two flames burned within Huo Fotuo's chest.

These two flames were fiercely intense, like twin hearts, sharing the same origin, residing within Huo Fotuo's body, brimming with immense fire spiritual energy.

This was… the hallmark of the Meteor Fire Forbidden Art?

Violating taboos, "planting" two fireballs inside the body to serve as hearts, to fuel spells?

This was true high-level fire technique?

Yin Leizi and the other two still sneered, mocking Mo Hua's presumption—daring to use fireball technique before Huo Fotuo, like showing off a knife before a master swordsman.

Mo Hua was unconvinced, staring at Huo Fotuo with a solemn expression:

"My fireball technique isn't limited to this!"

Huo Fotuo was slightly surprised, then smiled with keen interest, "Then let me see…"

He was genuinely intrigued.

"Big brother, why not just…" Qiao Laowu, seething with rage, wanted to seize Mo Hua first and avoid trouble.

Huo Fotuo's gaze turned icy as a blade; Qiao Laowu felt fear rise and swallowed his words, daring not to speak further.

Huo Fotuo turned back to Mo Hua, his face gentle:

"Come then, let me see…"

"Alright!"

Mo Hua's gaze was fierce, brimming with battle intent and a touch of fearless resignation.

"This technique—I've only ever cast it once in my life…" Mo Hua said gravely.

These words made Huo Fotuo's expression grow solemn.

Then Mo Hua began forming hand seals—complex, bizarre, even absurd gestures…

Mo Hua stared dead serious, weaving seals for a long time, pretending he was about to unleash a devastating technique, creating an atmosphere that this move was immensely powerful and required immense preparation.

This technique, he truly could only use once in his life.

Because these hand seals were all made up on the spot…

He wasn't even sure he could replicate them exactly next time…

But Huo Fotuo didn't know.

He couldn't gauge Mo Hua's depth; he didn't know what Mo Hua was doing—only trusting a cultivator's instinct: the more unknown, the more dangerous.

When Mo Hua finished the seals, he suddenly roared—both left and right hands simultaneously manifested a fireball.

This move truly stunned Huo Fotuo.

"Two techniques at once?!"

Yin Leizi and the others didn't understand, but Huo Fotuo, deeply versed in techniques, knew this move, though simple in appearance, was astronomically complex and impossibly difficult.

This brat… he's serious?!

Huo Fotuo, by nature cautious, instinctively channeled spiritual energy to form a flame barrier before him.

Mo Hua pushed his spiritual sense to its limit, compressing and deforming the two fireballs, then slammed his hands together, forcing them to collide at high speed.

This move made Huo Fotuo's heart twitch with unease.

He swept his hands forward, forming a flame shield before him, ready to block Mo Hua's attack.

But the violent surge of spiritual energy, the explosive impact, the strange technique—he felt none of it.

Mo Hua's two fireballs didn't collide; instead, they veered off course, flying forward and exploding on the ground, kicking up stones and dust.

For a moment, Huo Fotuo and the others froze.

They couldn't tell what had just happened.

After a few breaths, the dust cleared—they regained their senses and saw Mo Hua…

He slipped away again.

Huo Fotuo's face turned extremely grim.

We've been fooled!

What kind of powerful fireball technique is that?

It's all fucking bullshit!

In all these years in Ganzhou, I've committed so many crimes, killed so many people, and no one has ever dared to mock me like this!

You brat, still smelling of milk—how audacious you are!

In Huo Fotuo's eyes, a hint of killing intent emerged; he said coldly:

"Think you can run? I'd like to see how you run."

The four of them moved like the wind, chasing Mo Hua fiercely, all the way to a mountain forest. They looked around, but saw only Lin Mu rustling—Mo Hua was gone.