Chapter 666: Image

The night was deep and silent; the mountains and forests were lifeless.

Hao Xuan stared at the three black-robed cultivators lying dead on the ground, mouth agape. "Little brother, your array is too powerful…"

In a single glance—Boom—a flash of fire, and the array exploded.

These three black-robed cultivators, with considerable cultivation, were killed without warning…

Hao Xuan's face was stunned; Mo Hua felt a quiet satisfaction inside, but he still had to maintain the "little brother" image, so he nodded with restraint:

"Not bad…"

By custom, he would use a Fireball Technique to finish them off.

But since Hao Xuan was nearby, Mo Hua refrained, fearing he'd think his little brother was cruel.

That would ruin his reputation among fellow sect members as "pure and kind."

The three black-robed men were dead.

Mo Hua flicked his finger, sending a Jin Guang slicing through their face masks—but beneath, the flesh was still blackened and corrupted by demonic energy.

"Once a person dies… do they all get disfigured like this…?"

Mo Hua frowned slightly.

Then he'd have to capture one alive to see their faces?

Hao Xuan whispered, "Four left. Should I go lure them over?"

Mo Hua thought for a moment, then shook his head:

"No need. Four is nothing—no need to lure them… you probably couldn't lure them anyway…"

"Five are already gone. Even if they're stupid, they know something's wrong with you. If you show yourself, they'll grow even more cautious—maybe even try to flee…"

Hao Xuan frowned. "Then what do we do?"

"I'll go take a look," Mo Hua said, then added to Hao Xuan, "Your wound isn't healed yet. Stay hidden nearby. Don't intervene."

"But…" Hao Xuan hesitated, concerned. "If you go alone, you can't set up an array first. Facing those black-robed cultivators alone is dangerous…"

"My spells are very powerful!" Mo Hua said.

Hao Xuan blinked.

He was certain Mo Hua had only received a "C" in his Daoist Arts exam.

Could a "C" really count as "very powerful"?

Hao Xuan wanted to say something, but seeing Mo Hua's confident expression, he decided it was better to just obey.

Hao Xuan said, "Then, little brother, be careful."

Mo Hua nodded. "Don't worry."

Nine black-robed cultivators, all at Foundation Establishment early stage.

Using an array to "fish," five were lured and killed.

The remaining four were now fish on a cutting board—there was no way they could escape his grasp.

Mo Hua's gaze turned dangerous.

Hao Xuan looked at Mo Hua and, for a moment, felt as if those black-robed cultivators—who had chased them five to the brink—

…were like chicks to his "little brother"?

No way…

…

On the other side, Cheng Mo and the other two were still fighting the four black-robed cultivators.

Cheng Mo's group was at a disadvantage.

They had been chased relentlessly, fighting while retreating, their Qi and strength drained.

Even though the number of black-robed cultivators had dropped to four, they still felt increasingly strained.

But now was their best chance to escape.

If they could hold on, there might be a turning point—a chance to survive.

Otherwise, if the other black-robed cultivators caught Hao Xuan—or worse, didn't catch him and turned back—they'd be truly beyond saving.

They knew Hao Xuan had excellent mobility.

Under these circumstances, Cheng Mo and the others could only hope Hao Xuan held out a little longer.

Meanwhile, the four black-robed cultivators, though dominant, grew increasingly solemn.

Five of their number had left—and still hadn't returned.

No one knew if they were delayed or ambushed.

Though unlikely dead, if they were delayed too long, something might go wrong.

Their group operated in black robes under cover of night—doing things that couldn't see daylight. The longer it dragged, the greater the risk of exposure—and exposure meant certain death with no burial.

The leader of the black-robed cultivators grew uneasy, then gritted his teeth:

"Take the pills. End this quickly!"

The other three black-robed cultivators froze, faces filled with hesitation.

But they dared not disobey their "big brother."

Each stepped back half a pace, pulled a blood-red pill from somewhere unknown, and swiftly swallowed it before Cheng Mo and the others could react.

In an instant, the four of them surged in power, their eyes streaked with crimson veins.

Cheng Mo and the other two tensed.

"Corrupt pills?"

A sense of dread crept into their hearts.

They were already at a disadvantage—now these four black-robed cultivators had taken corrupt pills and boosted their cultivation.

If things kept going like this, it really did look like the odds of survival were slim…

Cheng Mo clenched his teeth and, heedless of everything, shouted:

"A pack of unorthodox fiends! Even if I die here today, I'll drag you all down with me!"

With that, he let out a furious roar, his eyes bulging wide. A deep bronze sheen settled over the muscles of his upper body, his blood qi surging to a boil, and his entire presence was like a massive axe cleaving mountains and splitting the earth.

Mountain-Splitting Axe!

This was the Cheng family's inherited Dao technique—simple in form, brutally powerful.

Once activated, his flesh turned to steel, and the axe-blade carried the force to split mountains and crack stone.

But its duration was limited.

At his current realm, his cultivation was limited, and he couldn't fully bring out the power of this technique.

Cheng Mo was forcing the technique at the cost of burning through his blood qi, fighting the black-robed cultivators with his life on the line.

Sister Situ Jian and Yang Qianjun beside him, seeing Cheng Mo about to stake his all, knew this was the critical moment and had no choice but to fight to the death.

Fight, and there might still be a slim chance of survival.

Don't fight, and death was certain.

Sister Situ Jian pressed two fingers together, driving his sword qi to its peak, a layer of blazing red Fiery Flame Departing Fire shrouding his spirit sword.

Yang Qianjun's eyes gleamed with golden pupils, and atop his long spear, dazzling Jin Guang condensed.

For a moment, the three of them were pale-faced, but their fighting spirit surged.

Mo Hua arrived just in time to see this scene, and couldn't help sighing inwardly.

The scions of great clans were truly extraordinary.

The techniques passed down through generations in these great clans carried an awe-inspiring pressure—at a glance, they were immensely powerful.

Cheng Mo especially.

Usually he looked like a complete good-for-nothing, but in a true life-and-death fight, twin axes in hand, his battle intent fierce, he was like a wrathful Vajra, his presence terrifying.

Sister Situ Jian and Yang Qianjun beside him—one fire, one gold, spiritual power surging—were no less impressive.

Except…

They looked a little too clumsy…

These wide, sweeping techniques were powerful, but if one's experience was lacking and they weren't used well, the drawbacks were just as great.

Sure enough, the leading black-robed cultivator, though his expression was solemn, was not particularly anxious. In a low voice, he ordered:

"These three brats are going all out. Don't meet them head-on. Be careful…"

A flash of vicious resolve passed through the black-robed leader's eyes. "A spent arrow cannot last long. Wear them down slowly. Drain their blood qi and spiritual power, and they'll die without a doubt!"

The other three black-robed men nodded one after another, replying, "Yes!"

In the blink of an eye, both sides clashed once more.

Cheng Mo and the others knew they couldn't hold out much longer, so they wanted a quick decisive victory—use thunderous methods to cut down one or two first, then decide whether to fight or flee as the situation allowed.

The black-robed cultivators' side focused mainly on containing and maneuvering—not letting Cheng Mo's group escape, but also not clashing head-on. They wanted to exhaust the trio's strength, then cut them all down.

For a moment on the field, axe-light and sword-light crisscrossed, spiritual power and blood qi interweaving and surging.

It looked grand and thunderous, but the situation remained deadlocked.

Cheng Mo grew more and more anxious.

His Mountain-Splitting Axe was poorly mastered—fierce and unmatched in the moment, but unable to sustain a long fight.

Sister Situ Jian and Yang Qianjun beside him weren't faring much better.

Their spiritual power had been insufficient to begin with, and forcibly driving these great killing moves meant their spiritual power was pouring out every single moment.

Mo Hua watched and shook his head.

"Impressive, yes, but in the end, they're still too young…"

"Before using a killing move, one should first consider whether it can actually take the enemy down—and if it can't, what the consequences will be…"

"Fighting on sheer hot-blooded courage, and all that spiritual power is just being wasted for nothing…"

"They don't even know spiritual power should be used sparingly…"

Mo Hua sighed softly to himself. Hiding in the shadows, he extended a finger.

A fireball shot through the air, tracing a swift, bright arc of flame across the night, and struck with perfect precision a black-robed man who was dodging Cheng Mo's great axe.

This fireball was both fast and accurate, catching everyone off guard.

The black-robed man hit by the fireball was utterly bewildered.

He had no idea where the fireball had come from, or who had launched it.

A moment later, his expression turned to panic.

This fireball technique's power was neither great nor small—not enough to inflict a fatal wound.

But the fireball exploded against his body, its spiritual force bursting forth, forcing him to stumble, his form losing balance, and freezing him in place for a heartbeat.

In a life-or-death battle, that heartbeat of delay was enough to be fatal.

The black-robed man's face went deathly pale in an instant.

Cheng Mo was stunned for a moment, then immediately came to his senses. He couldn't help baring a savage grin, seized the opening, raised his twin axes high, and brought them crashing down.

The black-robed cultivator dodged with all his might, but still wasn't fast enough.

The twin axes, carrying the weight of mountains, cleaved straight through his chest.

Of the four black-robed cultivators, one died in an instant.

The expressions of everyone present changed.

Cheng Mo and the others felt a surge of hope. "Reinforcements?"

The black-robed cultivators on the other side, however, had panicked looks in their eyes, and a chill crept into their hearts.

"Ambush?"

The leader of the black-robed cultivators shouted loudly: "Who are you, friend? Hiding in shadows—why not show yourself?"

The night around them was heavy and deep; the mountain forest was pitch-black. A cool wind passed, and tree shadows upon shadows swayed like ghosts.

The black-robed cultivator felt cold sweat pouring down his back.

Cheng Mo and the other two, their eyes gleaming with sharp intent, seized the moment and charged at the remaining black-robed men.

The leader of the black-robed men, his gaze icy, gritted his teeth and ordered:

"Keep holding out—watch out for hidden spells..."

The two sides clashed again.

Cheng Mo and his companions' battle fury surged.

The black-robed cultivators grew hesitant and cautious.

They feared that another fireball might suddenly fly out of the darkness and kill them at the brink of death...

But Mo Hua's Fireball Art was simply too fast—impossible to guard against.

After about a dozen exchanges, a fireball suddenly shot out from the long-silent night and exploded against the back of one black-robed man.

The black-robed man groaned in pain, his body stiffening.

Sister Situ's eyes flashed—swift as lightning, he pressed two fingers forward and unleashed a Dispersing Flame Sword Qi.

The sword qi blazed with firelight, piercing straight through the black-robed man's heart meridian.

Another black-robed man was dead.

Moments later, another fireball flew from the darkness, aimed straight at another black-robed man's face.

With the precedent before him, this black-robed man was on edge, fully alert.

The moment Mo Hua's fireball launched, he sensed it instantly and dodged with all his strength, barely avoiding a direct hit to the face.

The fireball grazed his ear—his ear burned fiercely—but he narrowly escaped being burned alive.

The black-robed man exhaled in relief—but before he could even catch his breath, he saw the tip of a spear protruding from his chest.

Yang Qianjun had slipped behind him while he was focused on guarding against the fireball and thrust his spear clean through his chest.

At this point, the tide turned abruptly.

Three fireballs. Three lives lost.

Only the leader of the black-robed cultivators remained.

He stood frozen, eyes wide with terror, filled with disbelief.

"What's going on?!"

In the blink of an eye, several fireballs flew in—and three of his brothers died instantly...

He had no time to react before the situation spiraled out of control.

"There's a master here!"

"Run! Or we'll die!"

Without hesitation, the black-robed cultivator turned and tried to flee.

In the darkness, Mo Hua flicked his finger—a pale blue water pattern appeared instantly, and a Water Prison solidified, binding the black-robed leader in place.

"This is..."

The black-robed man turned ashen.

Cheng Mo raised his twin axes, ready to kill the black-robed man—when a clear voice rang out:

"Take him alive!"

The voice sounded familiar.

But in this remote wilderness, in the dark mountain forest, it seemed strangely out of place...

Cheng Mo couldn't place it.

Still, he instinctively held back—his axe veered off, striking the black-robed man's back instead.

Yet the moment the black-robed man heard those three words—"take him alive"—his eyes widened in horror.

At that exact moment, a streak of Jin Guang shot from afar.

The Jin Guang carried little power—it aimed straight for the black-robed man's face.

It didn't seem meant to kill him, but to slit his mask open and reveal his identity.

Yet this seemed more terrifying to him than death itself.

The black-robed man's face twisted in despair. Before the Jin Guang could cut his mask, he snapped his own finger—a wave of demonic energy surged instantly, devouring his flesh and turning it into a pool of black sludge.

Cheng Mo and the others froze in shock, leaping back, then stared at each other in silence.

"Is this... a demonic cultivator's technique?"

Cheng Mo said grimly.

But all the black-robed cultivators were dead now—blood stained the ground, the forest fell silent, no one answered.

After a moment, Cheng Mo and the other two let out long, slow breaths.

No matter what, they had survived.

Yang Qianjun's face was solemn as he bowed toward the opposite forest:

"Thank you for your aid!"

"Who are you, friend? Might you show yourself?"

The forest remained silent.

Sister Situ frowned. "Could this be a senior disciple from some sect in Qianxue Province? Saw injustice and stepped in?"

"Though he used only a basic Fireball Art, his timing was precise, effortless—he changed the battle's outcome as if it were nothing..."

"It must be a master of spells…"

"Would a spell master really use only Fireball Spell?"

"That doesn't seem right…"

Cheng Mo said solemnly: "Generally, masters wouldn't use low-tier spells like Fireball Spell—but true masters return to simplicity, and instead use unassuming spells like Fireball Spell to transform the mundane into the miraculous…"

"That makes sense…"

"Then who could it be?"

Cheng Mo pondered for a moment, hesitating: "Could it be some 'senior' master?"

"Just call him 'Little Brother,' no need to say 'senior'—that's too formal…"

A clear voice rang out; Mo Hua appeared silently before the three, smiling brightly.

Yang Qianjun froze.

Sister Situ was stunned.

Cheng Mo was so shocked his jaw dropped.

"Mo… Mo Hua?!"

Mo Hua nodded.

"You, you…"

Cheng Mo stammered "You" for a long time, unable to find words; after regaining his composure, he finally said:

"Was it you who cast the Fireball Spell?"

"Who else?"

Cheng Mo looked around, then asked: "No one else?"

"Mm!"

"But you…"

Cheng Mo's mind suffered a tremendous shock.

How could it be… Mo Hua?

How was that possible?

His heart was filled with doubt; he wanted to ask so many things, but his mind went blank, unsure where to begin.

But Mo Hua ignored him, instead inspecting the corpses of the black-robed cultivators and finding their flesh and spiritual energy had indeed been corrupted by demonic qi.

The leader among them had turned into a pool of black water.

Mo Hua was disappointed.

Still no live captives…

These people, the moment they realized death was certain, would immediately commit suicide, destroying their bodies with demonic qi.

They were truly ruthless toward themselves.

Or did they possess some utterly unforgivable, terrifying secret?

Mo Hua thought for a moment, then shook his head: "This place isn't safe. You're all injured—find somewhere to hide first…"

"Mm."

Cheng Mo and the other two nodded solemnly.

So the three of them carried the unconscious Yi Li; Mo Hua went to summon Hao Xuan; together, they circled through the mountains and woods until they found a hidden cave to temporarily shelter in.

Mo Hua set up simple alert, concealment, and protective arrays outside the cave.

Cheng Mo and the others then healed within the cave.

After taking pills, their injuries improved and their spiritual energy gradually recovered; Sister Situ finally couldn't hold back and asked:

"Mo Hua, how did you end up here?"

Mo Hua replied casually:

"I was returning to my sect, passed through here, saw bloodstains, followed them a bit, and happened to find Hao Xuan being chased…"

"Then I was lucky—I saved Hao Xuan, then followed him to find you, and 'luckily' saved you too…"

"Oh…"

Cheng Mo nodded, but as he nodded, he realized something was off:

Could this really be something achieved by mere coincidence, luck, or chance?

"How… did you save them?" Cheng Mo asked.

"Just… set up an array, detonate it, and that was it…" Mo Hua said.

"What about the five black-robed cultivators you lured away?"

"Same thing—set up an array, detonate it, and they were gone…"

Cheng Mo and the other two exchanged glances, each drawing a sharp breath.

"All dead?!"

Mo Hua nodded, then sighed helplessly:

"You know—I'm an array master, my physical body is weak, my spiritual energy is weak; direct combat is extremely dangerous."

"When facing these cruel, faceless black-robed cultivators, I had no choice—I could only think of a way to set up an array and blow them up…"

"I didn't expect they were so fragile—just one blast and they died; that's not my fault…"

Cheng Mo: "…"

Sister Situ: "…"

Yang Qianjun: "…"

Seeing them stare at him in shock, Mo Hua felt he should be more modest, so he put on a serious expression:

"These are all minor matters; what matters most now is, what should we do next?"

"These black-robed cultivators... are they human traffickers?"

Cheng Mo and the others froze, then their expressions turned solemn.

"Shall we return and report to Dao Ting Si?" Sister Situ asked.

"We must report to Dao Ting Si."

"But it might be too late..."

"By the time Dao Ting Si arrives, these human traffickers have probably already fled..."

"And the cultivators they've kidnapped—no one knows where they'll be sold..."

"If sold to ordinary cultivators, it might not be so bad, but if sold to evil cultivators or demonic cultivators, it could be..."

Grim rumors of demonic cultivators killing to refine their arts, killing to brew pills, killing to consecrate artifacts surfaced in everyone's minds.

Everyone's expressions grew solemn.

"Then what if..."

Mo Hua's eyes brightened slightly, and he whispered, "Kill all the black-robed ones?"

Cheng Mo and the others froze, then stared silently at Mo Hua.

Especially Cheng Mo and Sister Situ.

They felt as if they were meeting him for the first time—the once-beloved, innocent, harmless, weakly grounded "Senior Brother" who only ever cared about drawing arrays...

(End of Chapter)