Chapter 76: Zhang Lan

As long as Mo Hua doesn't ask me questions, there's nothing to fear.

The man in green robes regained his composure and silently vowed never to show off pointlessly again.

Especially with a little cultivator who looks cute and well-behaved, holding a book—before showing off, you'd better first check what book he's holding.

"Uncle, are you a formation master?" Mo Hua asked without thinking.

"No, why would I be a formation master if I had nothing to do?" The man shook his head.

"If you're not a formation master but still know so much, you're truly impressive," Mo Hua sincerely praised.

"It's nothing much—these things are simple, really," the man in green robes said, sounding slightly guilty.

"Can I ask you things in the future?" Mo Hua asked.

"No!"

The man panicked, blurted out the refusal, then realized it sounded rude and added with solemn weight:

"I'm very busy too, and I may not always have time. Besides, cultivation always emphasizes lineage—Dao must not be lightly transmitted. We're not family or kin, so I can't say any more about these formation techniques…"

"Besides, I might not even be able to answer them anyway…"

The man silently added in his heart.

Mo Hua felt a little disappointed, but he could still ask the Bai siblings and Mr. Zhuang, so he didn't care much.

Mo Hua opened *The Initial Explanation of Reconstructed Formations* and continued reading the next section.

The man in green robes feared Mo Hua might spot something he didn't understand and ask again, so he made small talk: "Where's your father?"

"He went up the mountain to hunt demons."

"Hunt demons? Are there many cultivators here who make a living hunting demons?"

"Yes, the land here isn't fertile, and resources are scarce—only demonic beasts roam freely, so most cultivators survive by hunting them," Mo Hua said, then curiously added: "Uncle, what do you do?"

"I work for Dao Ting Si," the man replied.

Mo Hua's mouth dropped open—it was Dao Ting Si…

Dao Ting unified the Nine Provinces, the largest force in the cultivation world, akin to the imperial court in feudal dynasties, wielding the greatest power and housing the strongest cultivators of the Nine Provinces.

Dao Ting is located in Daozhou at the center of the Nine Provinces, the spiritual heart of the cultivation world; each of the other prefectures has its own Dao Ting Si, managing specific affairs such as spirit stone taxes, infrastructure and water conservancy, cultivation trades, and laws and punishments.

In other words, it's a "lifetime job," "eating from the imperial granary!"

The status of Dao Ting cultivators goes without saying—even holding a post in a subordinate Dao Ting Si is a lifelong dream for many cultivators.

Mo Hua's stunned expression greatly pleased the man, making him feel he'd regained some dignity.

"So you came here to drink because you're slacking off?" Mo Hua asked curiously.

The man in green robes corrected him: "This is called observing the human geography and cultivation customs of this prefecture."

"Oh," Mo Hua replied with a dismissive tone, clearly not believing him. "Aren't you afraid the Zhou Zhangsi of Dao Ting Si will scold you?"

The man chuckled lightly. "No problem—he says it, I pretend I didn't hear."

Mo Hua nodded. "I understand."

"What do you understand?" the man asked curiously.

Mo Hua thought for a moment and said: "If I'm not mistaken, you're a family disciple."

The man raised an eyebrow, and Mo Hua continued: "Your family must be quite prominent. Coming here to Xiancheng, you're either exiled for some offense or sent here to this backwater for training—you'll return after a while."

The man stared in shock. "You can tell all that just by looking?"

Mo Hua smirked and pointed to the nearby diners. "This place draws travelers from all directions. When people gather to eat and gossip, they always talk about the same few things. Family disciples who end up here? It's always one of those few scenarios."

The man in green robes glanced at Mo Hua. "You look so well-behaved, but you're surprisingly sharp."

Mo Hua grinned. "So what did you do to get kicked out by your family?"

"What nonsense are you talking?"

The man was slightly annoyed.

"Then why?" Mo Hua asked.

The man sighed, adopting a self-consciously dashing tone:

"I won't hide it—I come from a good family, have superior talent, and am more handsome than most. Some noblewomen catch one glance of me and secretly fall for me, insisting on becoming my Dao partner. I got tired of it, so I came out to escape and find some peace…"

Mo Hua stared at him skeptically.

"You don't believe me?"

"No," Mo Hua nodded.

"What part don't you believe?"

"'One glance and she falls in love'? Even street storytellers don't use such clichés anymore—they don't fool anyone. Erhu's father was tricked by a woman like that—he abandoned his wife and child, got his kidneys cut out, and no one even knows where they buried him."

The man in green robes: "…"

"So if a woman tells you she fell for you at first sight, she's definitely lying—you should be careful."

The man in green robes stared blankly.

"But there's another possibility," Mo Hua said.

"What possibility?" the man couldn't help asking.

"You seduced someone, played with her feelings, didn't want to marry her, and ran away to hide…"

The man nearly spat blood. "What seduction? What playing with feelings? How old are you? What's going on in that little head of yours?"

"I may have little experience, but I've read many stories," Mo Hua declared confidently. "The cultivation world is dangerous—the more you know, the less likely you'll be tricked later."

The man was both irritated and amused. "You little brat, you really say the strangest things."

Mo Hua looked dead serious. "Uncle, I'm saying this for your own good. As the saying goes: listen to advice, eat your fill."

Zhang Lan felt a whirl of emotions and couldn't think of what to say. After a moment, he suddenly remembered something and asked: "By the way, what's your name?"

"Mo Hua."

"Mo Hua?" The man looked at Mo Hua's pale little face and delicate brows and eyes, and truly felt the name suited him.

"Uncle, what's your name?" Mo Hua asked too.

"Zhang Lan."

"Jerk?" Mo Hua repeated.

Zhang Lan choked on his wine, coughing for a long time before gritting his teeth to correct him:

"ZHANG! LAN! The Zhang in 'change course and renew,' the Lan in 'turn the tide!' Not jerk!"

"Fine, fine, no need to shout so loud," Mo Hua mumbled.

Zhang Lan felt he was being foolish—why argue with a child? He pulled a jade pendant from his storage pouch and tossed it to Mo Hua. "It's for you."

Mo Hua shook his head. "No merit, no reward. I can't take your thing."

"You bought me wine; I give you a jade pendant. Keep it. I'll come back to play with you next time."

As Zhang Lan waved goodbye and turned to leave, he suddenly looked back and asked, "Let me confirm—what level are you?"

"Level Four of Qi Refinement!"

Mo Hua felt a touch of pride.

Only Level Four of Qi Refinement...

Zhang Lan sighed.

Thinking of the earlier formation, he gave up—his head already ached. He waved his hand and fled as if escaping.