Chapter 766: Finger Cut

Despite his pale face, Song Jian mustered a breath and asked:

"Who are you? How can there be a demonic cultivator in Jianxue Province? What do you truly want? Where is this place?"

Song Jian blurted it all out at once.

But his heart turned cold, and his voice trembled involuntarily.

The demonic cultivator grinned sinisterly, saying nothing.

The prison was gloomy, stained everywhere with blood.

Ouyang Mu looked tense; Linghu Xiao looked solemn.

Song Jian thought for a moment, then said coldly:

"I am a direct heir of the Song family of Duanjin Gate. You'd better not provoke me—otherwise, the Song family will not let you live!"

Upon hearing this, the demonic cultivator sneered coldly, "The Song family can't even save itself."

His voice was hoarse and grating, like an owl's cry at night.

Song Jian was startled, unsure if it was true, then cursed:

"You demonic beast, what are you talking about?!"

The demonic cultivator showed no anger; instead, he pulled two sheets of paper from his sleeve and handed one each to Song Jian and Ouyang Mu:

"Write a letter with your blood."

"Yours," the demonic cultivator extended a scarlet finger, thick with warts, pointing at Song Jian, "write to your parents, tell them you're in our hands, tell them to obey quietly, or else wait to collect your corpse."

The demonic cultivator turned his head and glanced at Ouyang Mu. "As for you—"

His face was mostly shrouded in his black robe, his expression unreadable, but his tone carried deep implication: "Write to your brother. Tell him to be sensible."

Ouyang Mu froze.

Mo Hua also felt surprised upon hearing this.

Ouyang Mu's brother, Senior Brother Feng?

They captured Song Jian to threaten his parents and the Song family behind him.

They captured Little Wood to pressure Senior Brother Feng?

The demonic cultivator said "be sensible."

That means they had already contacted Senior Brother Feng before—because Senior Brother Feng refused to "be sensible," so they captured Little Wood to threaten him with his own younger brother, forcing him to "be sensible"?

Mo Hua frowned, then turned to look at Linghu Xiao.

Both Song Jian and Little Wood must write letters—so Linghu Xiao doesn't have to?

Mo Hua pondered, and it seemed plausible.

Linghu Xiao had excellent sword talent and was highly valued by the sect.

But his family background was poor—merely a collateral branch of the Linghu clan.

He was distant from his fellow disciples.

He had no close elders.

There was no one he could be blackmailed through.

These demonic cultivators couldn't possibly send a blackmail letter to the Void Master of Chongxu Sect.

That would truly be swallowing bear's heart and leopard's gall.

Even if they lost their wits, they wouldn't dare.

In this prison, Ouyang Mu would never write a letter threatening his brother.

He held the letter, his expression stubborn and unyielding, his face plainly screaming "I'd rather die than write it."

Ouyang Mu remained silent.

Beside him, Song Jian also showed surprising backbone.

"Make my parents obey quietly? What are you, anyway?!"

"You think you, a cowardly, neither-human-nor-demon beast, can threaten the Song family?!"

Song Jian cursed loudly.

The towering demonic cultivator's face was hidden in shadow, unreadable, but his fury was unmistakable.

After a moment, he sneered coldly, "You refuse the wine, so you'll drink the punishment."

"If you won't write the letter, I'll take something from you instead."

A killing intent surged from the demonic cultivator.

Song Jian's expression panicked—he had no time to react before a stench of blood rushed at his face, then searing pain in his finger; when he looked down, his hand was drenched in blood.

One little finger had been severed.

Before this cruel demonic cultivator at the peak of Foundation Establishment, Song Jian—a pampered scion of a noble clan at mid-Foundation Establishment—had no chance to resist.

Song Jian groaned in pain, his face ashen, sweat beading on his forehead.

All of this happened in an instant.

Linghu Xiao's expression changed; he quickly warned, "Little Brother Mu!"

Ouyang Mu looked dazed; at Linghu Xiao's warning, he snapped back, about to pull back—but in a blink, a towering, blood-stinking demonic cultivator had already closed in on him.

His wrist throbbed with agony, as if clamped by a demonic beast's claw.

Then a flash of red light.

Ouyang Mu's little finger was also chopped off.

Ouyang Mu hissed in pain, but his will was strong—he clenched his teeth and made no sound.

Linghu Xiao grew furious, his voice icy: "Scum!"

The demonic cultivator stood like a black mountain, his hands clutching two severed fingers, each drop of blood falling slowly.

He glanced at Hu Xiaohu, his tone calm, even courteous.

"Young Master, forgive me," the demonic cultivator said coolly.

Hu Xiaohu's sword heart trembled, a sudden alertness rising in his heart.

But he was bound by iron chains, and had no sword—he could not resist at all.

The demonic cultivator's cultivation was profound, his strength immense, his speed lightning-fast; in an instant, he closed the distance to Hu Xiaohu.

A stench-laden wind surged abruptly.

In that instant, Hu Xiaohu's small hand was severed at the tip.

Piercing pain struck—he turned pale, bit his lip tightly, said nothing, but his gaze turned icy, like a blade aimed at the demonic cultivator.

The demonic cultivator's expression was equally cold, silent, yet he subtly avoided Hu Xiaohu's gaze, as if wary, unwilling to provoke him too severely.

Thus, all three of Hu Xiaohu's little fingers were severed.

The demonic cultivator pulled out three wooden boxes, placed each severed finger inside, and said calmly:

"You won't write letters, so I must resort to this—take something as proof."

After saying this, he took out three lustrous white pills and casually tossed them to Linghu Xiao and the others, saying, "Take these pills, and your severed fingers will grow back."

"I'm only following orders. If you cooperate, I save trouble; if you don't, you'll suffer—don't blame me."

This speech was less meant for the three, and more for Hu Xiaohu alone.

After finishing, the demonic cultivator sneered, tucked the three wooden boxes into his sleeve, and turned to leave.

Outside the prison, he summoned a short, dog-headed demonic cultivator and ordered gruffly:

"Watch them closely. Don't let anything go wrong—or neither of us can bear the consequences."

"Yes," the dog-headed cultivator bowed his head.

The towering demonic cultivator, at Peak Foundation Establishment, gave the dog-headed one a deep stare, his voice hoarse: "Don't slack for a single moment. Or I'll throw you to the demonic beasts!"

Hearing this, the dog-headed cultivator shuddered violently and immediately replied:

"Yes, yes, Overseer."

Mo Hua, crouched above eavesdropping, froze at the word.

So he's an Overseer.

No wonder—he'd sensed this towering, fanged demonic cultivator's aura differed from the others, his status clearly higher.

After giving his orders, the Overseer glanced once at the prison, confirmed all was well, then turned and left.

The dog-headed cultivator respectfully saw the Overseer off, then his expression turned cold.

He turned back, stared at the prison, his face twisted with envy and hatred, muttering curses under his breath.

But he dared not disobey the Overseer's orders.

After meticulously inspecting the prison, confirming the chains and array were intact,

the three captured cultivators—Hu Xiaohu and the others—remained quietly confined in their cells.

Only then did the dog-headed cultivator turn and leave.

The area around the prison instantly grew quiet and empty.

Only distant, nameless demonic beasts' low roars mixed with the pained moans of other demonic cultivators in neighboring cells.

Making the prison's atmosphere oppressive, like a hellish realm.

Mo Hua judged the time was near, and used the Grand Void Token to send the two characters "Yi Chou" to Elder Xun.

After sending it, Mo Hua deliberately waited a moment.

He feared the magnetic field was too weak—that the two heavenly stems and earthly branches might not transmit—and if Elder Xun, in error, forcibly broke in, it would be disastrous.

After sending the message, Mo Hua waited again.

Only when Elder Xun replied with "Received," did Mo Hua nod.

He lowered his head and saw Hu Xiaohu and the others, their faces gray and despondent.

They understood their situation.

The powerful demonic cultivators, the bloody prison, and the faint, ever-present cries of demonic beasts—all made clear this was a place of no return, a place of utter cruelty.

Their severed fingers still throbbed with fresh blood.

Until now, they had been either noble scions or sword prodigies; though they'd faced setbacks, they'd mostly grown up under the protection of their clans and sects, never having truly experienced the brutality of the cultivation world.

Now, that brutality had suddenly appeared before them.

Even life and death hung by a thread.

All three were unprepared.

Song Jian no longer dared to boast—he crouched quietly in the corner, clutching his severed finger, face as white as paper.

Ouyang Mu's expression was blank, his heart uneasy.

Hu Xiaohu's face was calmer, but inside, he felt lost and helpless.

He had no sword.

Even if he had one, he was no match for these demonic cultivators.

At least, the towering one who severed his finger—he couldn't defeat him, let alone the other, even stronger demonic cultivators likely hidden within the prison.

Hu Xiaohu's mind drifted, and he recalled his earlier words to Mo Hua.

Only now did he realize how childish his notions of "unfair victory," "fair duel," and "the sword path is solitary" truly were.

In the real cultivation world, no one speaks of "fairness," no one duels you with sword techniques.

If there are more, they overwhelm you with numbers; if their cultivation is higher, they crush you with strength.

No one argues reason with you.

You lose, you lose. You die, you die.

Linghu Xiao's proud heart was shadowed by gloom; only now did he realize that before a truly cruel enemy, his own swordplay, which he had believed strong, was not nearly as powerful as he thought.

And the most critical issue was that his finger had been broken.

Linghu Xiao touched the pearly-white pill beside him, his heart filled with hesitation.

Ouyang Mu felt the same—this pill, he wanted to take, but dared not.

Their storage bags had all been confiscated.

The only thing now capable of healing their wounds was the pill given by the demonic cultivator.

A broken finger could be either serious or minor.

The demonic cultivator had merely severed their little fingers, without using demonic energy, dark arts, or any other sinister means; the flesh and blood at the wound had not been corrupted.

If they took the pill promptly, bone and flesh could regrow.

But if they refused it, once the injury worsened, the blood congealed and the wound scabbed over, this little finger would be gone forever.

Even if they later consumed heavenly treasures to replenish it, the damage would remain.

The broken hand was the right hand.

Of the three of them, one was a swordsmith and two were sword cultivators; at least for now, all heavily relied on their right hands.

But this pill was given by the demonic cultivator.

Though it appeared harmless, no one knew whether it truly held no trickery.

Ouyang Mu hesitated a moment, then asked softly:

"Senior Brother Linghu, can we eat this pill?"

Linghu Xiao frowned at the question, shook his head, and sighed:

"I don't know."

Divenadv: Logically, this pill carried no stench of blood, no aura of demonic energy, its color was pure and genuine—a proper pill.

Moreover, when the demonic cultivator gave it to them, he tossed it carelessly, his demeanor casual, as if there were no conspiracy.

But this was still a pill from the demonic cultivator's hand.

Taking it might mean falling into the demonic cultivator's trap.

But not taking it—losing the little finger—would make swordsmithing difficult later.

Ouyang Mu frowned deeply, torn beyond measure, and sighed inwardly:

"If Little Brother Mo were here, it would be better; Little Brother Mo is so clever, he knows everything—he would surely know whether we can eat it."

But how could Brother Mo possibly be here?

Ouyang Mu let out a bitter laugh, closed his eyes, and tried to shove the pill into his mouth.

He intended to take it first.

If it was safe, then Senior Brother Linghu could take it too.

If it was dangerous, Senior Brother Linghu wouldn't have to take it—he would be the unlucky one.

Linghu Xiao, burdened with worries, did not notice.

But before Ouyang Mu could slip the pill into his mouth, a familiar voice sounded beside his ear:

"Idiot, don't eat it!"

Ouyang Mu froze, looked left and right—but no one was there.

Linghu Xiao was also startled.

Both thought they had hallucinated.

"Did I just hear Little Brother Mo's voice?" Ouyang Mu murmured.

Linghu Xiao had heard it too, but he dared not believe it.

On the other side, Song Jian, who had been listless and utterly defeated, suddenly sprang up like a dog hearing its master's call.

But what rose in his heart was rage.

That clear, hateful voice—he would recognize it even if reduced to ashes!

As the three turned their heads searching, a voice spoke:

"Above."

Ouyang Mu looked up along the sound and saw a small boy peering out from the prison's stone ceiling.

His features were exquisitely beautiful, his eyes bright as stars.

It was Mo Hua.

Ouyang Mu's mouth gaped open; he rubbed his eyes, almost convinced he was dreaming.

"Little Brother Mo, were you captured too?"

Mo Hua was about to speak when a howl came from the side; he turned to see Song Jian gritting his teeth:

"Mo Hua!"

Before he could finish, Mo Hua flicked his finger, casting a Drowning Technique that sealed Song Jian's nose and mouth.

Song Jian's words were trapped; he choked as if drowning, struggling wildly.

Mo Hua shushed him with a warning glance:

"If you make another sound, you're dead."

"Understood?"

As Song Jian struggled, gasping for air, a sharp pain in his finger jolted him awake—he remembered where he was; reason briefly overcame his "ancient grudge," and he nodded obediently.

Mo Hua was satisfied and lifted the Drowning Technique.

At the same time, he held his spiritual sword, thinking that if Song Jian dared shout again, he would cut him down with it.

Song Jian felt a chill in his heart and immediately fell silent.

Only then did Mo Hua say to Ouyang Mu:

"I followed you guys and snuck in."

Ouyang Mu's expression jolted.

Even Linghu Xiao, off to the side, found it hard to believe.

They didn't know where this place was, but just from the dense demonic aura and the chaotic roars of demons, one could roughly tell how heavily guarded this prison was, and just how many demon beasts and demon cultivators it hid.

And he snuck in here?

"How did you sneak in?" Linghu Xiao asked in a low voice.

Mo Hua waved his hand. "It's a long story, and we're short on time, so I won't get into it now."

He pointed at the pills in Linghu Xiao and the other's hands. "Whatever you do, don't take those pills. They look normal, but there's a big problem with them."

A demon cultivator couldn't possibly be that kind-hearted.

In terms of smell, color, and medicinal ingredients, this pill really did show nothing wrong.

But Mo Hua could see the faint gray aura on the pill.

That was the karma of the dead.

This pill was refined using people.

Color, fragrance, and flavor can all deceive people, but karma won't—at the very least, the difficulty of deceiving through karma is on a completely different level.

Ouyang Mu nodded, half-understanding.

Mo Hua took out two pills and tossed them down from the rooftop; Ouyang Mu and Linghu Xiao each got one.

"Take mine instead—a top-grade second-tier Flesh-Growing Bone-Mending Pill."

Ouyang Mu and the other caught the pills, gave them a brief once-over, and swallowed them down.

Once the pill entered their mouths, they indeed felt a pure, righteous surge of blood-qi flowing through their entire bodies; their fingertips felt cool, faintly itchy, yet accompanied by threads of pain.

The severed little finger was regenerating, flesh and bone slowly mending.

Ouyang Mu and the other let out a breath of relief, gratitude welling up in their hearts.

Ouyang Mu asked again, puzzled: "Senior Brother Mo, how do you have pills like these?"

Mo Hua said, "These are essential pills for traveling at home or on the road. When you're out and about, you absolutely must carry them."

Besides, these were all gifts from Xu Wanyi, free of charge.

After Mo Hua finished speaking, he turned his head and saw Song Jian gazing at him longingly,

Mo Hua sighed and tossed one to him as well.

On Song Jian's face appeared two diametrically opposed, utterly contradictory emotions.

One was the pride of refusing "food handed in contempt."

The other was the compromise of "a true man knows when to bend and when to stand."

His expression shifted several times on his face; even Mo Hua found it exhausting to watch.

But in the end, he still compromised—silently picking up the pill, stuffing it into his own mouth, and quietly keeping a tally in his heart:

"I owe Mo Hua the grace of one pill, which cancels out the grudge of the stolen sword."

"But the other grievances still need to be settled."

Mo Hua couldn't be bothered with him, and instead said to Linghu Xiao and Ouyang Mu:

"Try to protect yourselves. Guard against the demon cultivators' crooked tricks—don't learn their arts, don't take their pills, and don't believe their lies."

"I'll think of something to get you out."

He didn't say anything more about the rest.

Linghu Xiao was fine, but Little Wooden-Head couldn't keep things off his face.

Telling him would only make accidents more likely.

Linghu Xiao and Ouyang Mu both nodded solemnly, and when they looked up again, they found that at some unknown point, Mo Hua had already vanished.

There wasn't even the slightest trace of Mo Hua's aura around them.

As if he had never been there at all.

Linghu Xiao and Ouyang Mu exchanged a glance, shock in their hearts.

This kind of concealment technique was truly terrifying.

But because of it, the two of them also felt much calmer; the previous anxiety and unease had all vanished.

Although Mo Hua's cultivation realm wasn't actually higher than theirs.

Seeing Mo Hua always gave one a strange, inexplicable sense of "reassurance."

But the "pretty-boy" Song Jian off to the side was still somewhat conflicted:

"If Mo Hua wants to save me, should I let him save me, or not?"

"If I let him save me, wouldn't that mean I owe him a huge favor?"

"Being saved by my great enemy Mo Hua—in a certain sense, isn't that also a kind of terrible disgrace?"

Elsewhere, Mo Hua was wandering around the prison.

He did want to rescue Little Wooden-Head and the other, but for the moment he really had no good way to do it.

Throughout the entire Ten Thousand Demon Prison, there were too many demon cultivators.

Even with sword-flying, limited by the number of spirit swords, he couldn't kill many.

Formations and Small Meteorite Art could be used, but the traces left behind would be too obvious, and the commotion too great.

What's more, some of the demon cultivators were extremely powerful—ones he simply couldn't handle.

And this was only the Ten Thousand Demon Prison; throughout the entire Ten Thousand Demon Valley, there were even more demon cultivators, and it was even more troublesome.

Mo Hua sighed.

He walked several more laps around the Ten Thousand Demons Prison, still finding no leads, and another hour passed; Mo Hua sent a "Bing Yin" signal to Elder Xun.

After sending it, Mo Hua looked at the Grand Void Token and suddenly froze.

Poor signal

That means there's interference from flowing Yuan Ci.

In other words, there should be a "Yuan Ci" array.

But why hadn't he sensed any trace of the Yuan Ci array?

Mo Hua frowned, then walked another lap, finally noticing something odd in a small corner of a stone wall.

While the demonic cultivators patrolling passed by, Mo Hua pulled out a small knife and scraped off the dirt on the wall, revealing that it was indeed sealed with dust—a Yuan Ci array diagram.

It was the Yuan Ci Spirit Sight Array.

The Yuan Ci Spirit Sight Array is a seventeen-pattern array.

Mo Hua had long obtained this array diagram, snatched from the Yuan Ci array master whose trail he had uncovered in the Bishan Demon Cave, then ambushed and killed by Uncle Gu and Gu An and Gu Quan.

Mo Hua had also long since mastered it thoroughly.

But the Yuan Ci Spirit Sight Array inside the Ten Thousand Demons Valley was broken and unusable.

Moreover, someone had deliberately sealed it with mud and stone.

Following the array's adjacent traces, Mo Hua found another sealed Yuan Ci Spirit Sight Array on a different wall.

This array was also unusable.

Afterwards, Mo Hua followed the map and the connections between the Yuan Ci array pivots, locating several more Yuan Ci Spirit Sight Arrays.

But all these arrays were abandoned and inactive.

Mo Hua felt a pang of regret.

These arrays were not single standalone arrays, but controlled by a unified pivot—clearly an entire integrated array system.

Had they not been abandoned, he could have infiltrated the Ten Thousand Demons Prison's surveillance system through the Yuan Ci Spirit Sight Arrays, gaining full oversight and control.

"Why abandon such a good array?"

Mo Hua grumbled inwardly.

Otherwise, his work would've been much simpler.

Now that the Yuan Ci arrays had been abandoned, he couldn't use them either.

Mo Hua shook his head and sighed, turning to leave.

But as soon as he turned, he paused, turning back to stare at the Yuan Ci Spirit Sight Arrays for a moment, his brow slightly lifting.

"What if I did them a favor and rebuilt the Yuan Ci Spirit Sight Integrated Array?"

He'd never constructed a Yuan Ci integrated array before; his usual conditions didn't allow it, he couldn't afford the materials, and he had no suitable architectural array media.

Now was the perfect chance to practice—using the abandoned Yuan Ci array pivots in the Ten Thousand Demons Valley as the network, and the discarded Spirit Sight array diagrams as units, to rebuild a new Yuan Ci Spirit Sight Integrated Array, deepening his understanding of Yuan Ci arrays.

"As an array master, you must seize every possible opportunity to study and apply arrays!"

Mo Hua's eyes lit up, and he nodded slightly.

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