Chapter 668: They

Mo Hua's expression startled, and he immediately transformed into a streak of waterlight, retreating swiftly.

At the same time, the black-clad leader's gaze turned cold; he drew his spirit sword and slashed out a blade of light toward Mo Hua, whose body was veiled in water shadows.

Mo Hua accelerated his evasion technique and retreated another step.

The blade of light arrived a fraction too late, striking the ground before Mo Hua and shattering the bricks and stones beneath.

The disturbance of spiritual energy within the hall drew the attention of Cheng Mo and the others outside.

They remembered Mo Hua's instruction:

"If there's any commotion, strike immediately."

Hao Xuan activated his wind-style body technique, his steps like the wind, arriving instantly behind a black-clad cultivator at Foundation Establishment early stage; he raised his Thousand-Jun Club and brought it down with full force.

The black-clad man, caught off guard, suffered a severe blow to the head; blood gushed forth, and his mind spun dizzily.

Cheng Mo still had a branch clenched between his teeth; silently, like a tiger, he lunged forward, raising both great axes high and slamming them directly onto the black-clad man's forehead.

The black-clad man died instantly.

Another nearby black-clad man, sensing the disturbance, rushed to assist—but was pierced through the shoulder by Yang Qianjun, who had been lying in wait, his spear thrust out like a dragon.

Sister Situ summoned her Li Huo Sword and drove it through his abdomen.

Then the two joined forces and continued their assault.

The black-clad man still struggled; after three exchanges, Yang Qianjun and Sister Situ killed him together.

Now, outside the hall, only one black-clad man remained.

He was farther away; sensing the spiritual energy fluctuations, he arrived just as his two remaining comrades had already died.

The black-clad man's face darkened instantly; he turned to flee.

Yi Li gathered his breath, raised his palm, and formed a Earth Prison Technique, trapping him.

Cheng Mo and the other four immediately rushed in, axes, swords, spears, and clubs striking together, eliminating this final black-clad man.

By the time Mo Hua stepped out of the hall, the area outside had been fully cleared.

This gang of black-clad traffickers—aside from the black-clad leader at Foundation Establishment mid-stage—had been annihilated entirely.

At the same time, the black-clad leader emerged from the hall.

As soon as he stepped outside, he saw his last black-clad brother lying dead under the combined assault of Cheng Mo and the other five.

He turned his head—and saw numerous corpses scattered haphazardly elsewhere, carefully concealed and hard to spot.

His spiritual sense swept across the vast, abandoned alchemy workshop; the aura was sparse, suffused with deathly stillness.

The black-clad leader's expression trembled; he could not believe it.

All his many subordinates, all his many brothers—just like that… all dead?!

A surge of rage rose in his heart; the black-clad leader stared at Cheng Mo and the others and snarled:

"You little bastards! Who sent you?!"

He refused to believe that these few Foundation Establishment early-stage sect disciples could have wiped out his dozen or so brothers so completely.

In that instant, he recalled the unseen cultivator who had been watching him moments earlier inside the hall.

Concealment technique?

The black-clad leader frowned.

He glanced around—but saw no trace of that hidden cultivator.

It seemed the man's concealment had been exposed; after escaping using the water-body technique, he had activated concealment again and vanished.

The black-clad leader's gaze darkened.

In his fleeting glimpse, he had seen only a swirl of waterlight—not the true form or features of the hidden cultivator.

But someone who could learn and master concealment technique must be a seasoned, treacherous cultivator.

At least a hundred years old—if not two hundred.

"A treacherous cultivator hiding in shadows, five little brats fresh from the sect… they killed over a dozen of my brothers…"

The black-clad leader drew a standard spirit sword; his aura surged upward, his voice icy.

"I'll make you all pay with your lives!"

The black-clad leader, at Foundation Establishment mid-stage, radiated thick, heavy pressure.

Cheng Mo and the other four wore solemn expressions—but being prodigies, they refused to yield.

Cheng Mo spat out the branch Mo Hua had made him bite, roared, "Beast, die!" and charged forward, swinging his axes.

The other four joined the assault.

Yang Qianjun's spear thrust was fierce, engaging Cheng Mo in direct frontal assault.

Sister Situ summoned her Li Huo Sword to support the attack.

Yi Li and Hao Xuan provided cover from the periphery.

The five surrounded him, coordinating with decent tacit understanding—close combat, ranged attacks, body cultivators, spirit cultivators.

Axe-light, sword-light, and spear-blades crossed.

Spells danced through the air.

For a moment, the black-clad leader was suppressed.

His face remained cold, but inwardly he was startled.

"These brats… have some real foundation, and some real grit…"

"To kill them outright will take some trouble."

"And besides, there's still that seasoned, treacherous hidden cultivator watching from the sidelines—still not acting…"

The black-clad leader paused, then his gaze turned icy; he slashed away Cheng Mo's great axe with one sword-stroke, forced back Yang Qianjun with a palm-blow, and turned to retreat into the hall.

His eyes burned with murderous intent.

Sister Situ instantly understood, exclaiming:

"He's going to kill those kidnapped cultivators to silence them!"

Cheng Mo and the others also turned pale, rushing to act, trying to stop the black-cloaked leader—but they were too slow.

The black-cloaked leader sneered, glancing at them with contempt.

His cultivation was higher, and his body movement faster by a margin—he moved first, stepping into the hall.

But the moment his foot touched the ground, a flash of light erupted—the array pattern activated, and crimson flames outlined a complex, profound array diagram.

The black-cloaked leader's eyes widened in shock.

"An… array?!"

As the red light blazed fiercely, spiritual energy swirled across the array.

At the last possible moment, the black-cloaked leader yanked his foot back, activating a protective talisman, turning his back to the array.

Then flames erupted in all directions, a thunderous boom sounding.

A powerful fire-element spiritual energy exploded instantly, sending shockwaves rippling outward.

The black-cloaked leader was blasted several zhang away, his knees half-kneeling on the ground, leaving a trail of blood.

His protective talisman shattered into fragments; the fire-element spiritual energy burned his meridians, leaving a large patch of charred skin.

Cheng Mo and the others were stunned.

The black-cloaked leader spat out a mouthful of blood, his gaze filled with disbelief.

How could there be an array?

He had only passed by the hall's entrance not long ago…

Who could have silently set up such a powerful array in such a short time, without him noticing?

And how did he know I would return to silence them?

Was it…

That hidden cultivator?

The black-cloaked leader's pressure surged, his face already turning pale.

Cheng Mo and the other four, seeing the array explode, were momentarily stunned—but when they saw the black-cloaked leader injured by the array, their expressions brightened.

Without a word, Cheng Mo grabbed his two axes and charged at the black-cloaked leader.

Yang Qianjun and Sister Situ followed close behind.

The black-cloaked leader spat, cursing inwardly.

"Damn it, I was careless—I was tricked…"

He raised his longsword and clashed it against Cheng Mo's massive axe, then glanced back at the hall—finding the entrance now blocked by falling rocks, impassable for now—his frustration flared.

"Can't silence them now…"

"Then…"

The black-cloaked leader sneered, "I'll kill all of you!"

Before his words ended, his eyes suddenly turned murky, blackened.

A foul, black demonic energy surfaced from nowhere, spreading through his entire body, then clinging to the standard spiritual sword in his hand.

The black-cloaked leader himself became sinister and terrifying, thick with demonic energy.

"Possession?"

Cheng Mo and the others' expressions changed.

Mo Hua, who had been hiding in the shadows, plotting an ambush, also frowned, finding it deeply strange.

The righteous is righteous; the demonic is demonic.

The spiritual energy of the righteous and the demonic are fundamentally different.

The other black-cloaked men merely took demonic pills, or had their flesh corrupted by demonic energy after death—only a trace of demonic taint remained.

But this black-cloaked leader was entirely different.

Just moments ago, when he fought, his spiritual energy was pure, not a single trace of demonic influence.

Yet now, with a shift of spiritual energy, he suddenly "became possessed"?

"This is strange…"

"And that blood-red demonic phantom shadow on him earlier—what was it?"

"Could it have seen through my concealment technique?"

Mo Hua's gaze sharpened slightly.

Meanwhile, the "demonized" black-cloaked leader had already begun fighting Cheng Mo and the others.

His spiritual energy had turned foul—but also stronger.

The sinister demonic energy coiling around his sword was like poison, carrying a black, corrosive force.

Cheng Mo and the others faced sudden, intense pressure.

Direct confrontation became extremely difficult; every time they clashed with the demonic-wrapped standard spiritual sword, whether Cheng Mo or Yang Qianjun, their blood qi churned violently.

And if wounded by the black-cloaked leader's sword qi, the demonic energy entered their bodies, gradually corroding their meridians and polluting their blood qi.

So during combat, they had to be exceptionally careful.

Fortunately, the black-cloaked leader had been injured by Mo Hua's array explosion earlier—his strength was diminished; otherwise, the situation would have been far worse.

Mo Hua observed for a long time from the side, silently shaking his head and sighing.

"This won't be easy…"

In the chaos of melee, friend and foe were intermingled—hard to set up an array.

Otherwise, I might accidentally injure my allies—even Cheng Mo and Sister Situ.

Moreover, this black-cloaked leader had already fallen for one trick, and after being injured by the array, he was clearly on guard—trying to trap him with another array would be difficult.

Mo Hua silently considered:

Five Elements Origin Array…

Cheng Mo and Yang Qianjun were body cultivators; in combat with the black-cloaked leader, their movements clashed back and forth—they could not stand still.

Hao Xuan was out of the question; he was lucky just to escape alive.

Yi Li and Sister Situ might be worth trying, but Cheng Mo might not be able to restrain the black-cloaked leader.

If Yi Li and Sister Situ, while benefiting from the Five Elements boost and channeling their spells, were suddenly ambushed by the black-cloaked leader, even if they survived, they would be severely wounded.

If using spells…

Water Prison Spell might work, but restraining him for a while wouldn't matter much.

Cheng Mo and the others had limited cultivation—they couldn't finish the fight quickly.

The Minor Meteor Forbidden Art… required getting close to use.

Getting close under these circumstances was far too dangerous.

Mo Hua didn't want to take that risk.

Moreover, even more troubling was that Mo Hua couldn't afford to stall…

Although Cheng Mo and the others had excellent talent and solid inheritance, they were merely newly initiated disciples, lacking experience and possessing only Foundation Establishment early stage cultivation.

If the black-cloaked leader unleashed another hidden card and suddenly struck, Cheng Mo and the other four might all be in mortal danger.

Even if they continued to drain his stamina, under the threat of the sinister demonic qi, Cheng Mo and the others couldn't hold out much longer.

If they kept stalling like this, they were bound to make a mistake.

One mistake, and they'd either be severely wounded—or lose their lives.

Mo Hua sighed, mentally reflecting:

"In spell duels and combat, you need a 'frontline'—only then can you sneak in and profit…"

During previous missions, Senior Feng and Senior Shangguan always charged ahead, bearing the brunt.

Elder Murong and Senior Qianqian had strong cultivation and potent offensive techniques.

In such evenly matched battles, if I just made a small move—cast a control spell—I could shift the tide and secure victory.

The same was true in my battle with Huo Fotuo.

Uncle Gu, a Jin Dan grand cultivator, stood at the front, absorbing the full force of Huo Fotuo's meteor forbidden arts.

All I had to do was pull strings through the array.

In short, all the damage output came from Senior Brothers, Senior Sisters, and Uncle Gu.

I either controlled the battlefield, or struck from the shadows—and only when absolutely forced did I pick up the final kill.

But now, that's impossible.

Cheng Mo and the others simply can't hold the line.

They're young, their cultivation is shallow, their experience thin—they can't bear the risk of this life-or-death combat.

"Is retreating, then planning again, the only option?"

"Or should I drive the black-cloaked leader away first and rescue the kidnapped cultivators?"

Mo Hua frowned in thought.

Suddenly, he froze, looking up around him.

"Someone's here?"

Mo Hua released his spiritual sense—his eyes brightened.

"Dao Ting Si people!"

And several of the spiritual signatures were familiar—they seemed to be from the Gu family.

"They're on our side!"

Mo Hua's spirits lifted.

It seemed the message I sent earlier had reached Uncle Gu—he'd sent reinforcements.

With Dao Ting Si's help, even if this black-cloaked leader had "demonized," he'd be trapped with no escape.

A few breaths later, the black-cloaked leader's expression changed.

He too sensed someone approaching.

And these newcomers were clearly not his allies—their spiritual signatures were rigid, stale, radiating the unmistakable stench of Dao Ting Si's hounds.

"There are reinforcements…?"

The black-cloaked leader's gaze darkened, his expression flickering with anger.

He hadn't expected that this simple job—trading "livestock"—should have gone so smoothly, yet kept encountering setbacks.

First, they were unexpectedly exposed; the assassins sent to eliminate witnesses never returned.

Now, his entire crew had vanished in the blink of an eye.

"Damn it, a bunch of useless wastes!"

The black-cloaked leader cursed.

But anger achieved nothing.

Now, tangled with these brats, and Dao Ting Si's dogs arriving—if he didn't flee now, it would be too late.

If surrounded, even if he broke his seal, entered the demonic path, and gained immense power, facing so many cultivators at once, he'd likely be doomed—unable to escape the net.

Hesitation invites disaster.

His brothers were dead—he must survive.

But before leaving…

The black-cloaked leader's eyes widened slightly, suddenly turning crimson.

First, kill these annoying brats in front of me!

"Just a few newly initiated brats, thinking that joining forces makes them my match?"

The black-cloaked leader sneered.

From his body, demonic energy surged violently.

At the same time, his forehead split open, flesh and muscle curling back to reveal a monstrous eye.

That eye was cold, murky, yet grotesque and mad, as if brimming with cold, unyielding demonic desires.

A bloody phantom of a demon appeared on his body.

A blood-red divine malice instantly spread through the surroundings.

In an instant, Cheng Mo, Yang Qianjun, and the others were engulfed by the blood-red malice; their spiritual senses grew dim, their expressions twisted in pain, and an impulse surged within them—to submit to the world's demonic desires and surrender to the Divine Lord, their limbs frozen in place.

The black-cloaked leader raised his sword entwined with demonic energy, ready to sever Cheng Mo's head, but suddenly froze, turning his head to the side.

Mo Hua, beside him, was also shrouded in blood-red light, his hidden form now revealed.

But unlike Cheng Mo and the others, Mo Hua's spiritual awareness seemed unaffected.

A pair of bright, watery eyes met the black-cloaked leader's gaze.

The black-cloaked leader's pupils shrank, then his expression turned to horror.

That hidden, treacherous cultivator lurking nearby—was he such a young brat?!

And yet…

Beneath the supreme majesty of the Divine Lord, why does this brat show no reaction whatsoever?!

The black-cloaked leader trembled inside.

His third eye on the forehead suddenly flared in rage, twisting and writhing, covered in blood vessels.

The blood-red malice around him grew even denser, engulfing Mo Hua.

Yet Mo Hua's spiritual awareness, though bathed in blood-red corruption, remained utterly unmoved, impervious to all evil.

The black-cloaked leader could not believe it.

Mo Hua blinked, then his expression turned equally shocked.

In the instant the blood-red light intensified, he felt as if a pull came from his "spirit soul."

Suddenly, he was seated again upon that solemn altar.

Ancient aura enveloped him, myriad demonic spirits bowed in reverence, all living things of heaven and earth paid homage.

Somewhere beyond, it seemed a voice whispered to him:

Your offering…

Has arrived!

(End of Chapter)