Chapter 779: Mural

Mo Hua eavesdropped again on the conversation between Jin Gui and the demon cultivators.

Everything was more or less as he had expected.

The Evil Artifact Chamber had been bombed, a scene of utter wreckage.

The old demon cultivator who had forged the evil sword had gone mad; at the scene there remained a shred of his flesh and blood, along with two demon cultivator corpses.

The two demon cultivators had died gruesome deaths, their bodies bearing slash wounds from jointed limbs—clearly they had been strangled and killed by the centipede demon cultivator.

One could clearly see there had been a fierce death struggle before they died.

It was the old demon cultivator who had done it.

Apart from that, the artifact-forging bone furnace, the blood pool, the evil sword, the formation—everything had been destroyed, drenched once over in filthy fresh blood, and no one could tell which parts were problematic and which were not.

Jin Gui was furious, but could only smooth things over.

He was the steward; if something went wrong, it would only make the chieftain, or the Young Master, doubt his ability to handle affairs.

Therefore, it was best to make a small matter of this.

He also did not dare make too big a fuss.

As for Ouyang Mu, with mid Foundation Establishment cultivation and a wooden, taciturn nature, even if he had narrowly escaped, he would not be suspected.

And Jin Gui was also relieved that after the Evil Artifact Chamber collapsed, Ouyang Mu hadn't died—otherwise his troubles would have been great.

Therefore, Little Wooden Head was safe for now.

As for Linghu Xiao and Song Jian, their situation was also still fine.

After all, the moment to truly "reveal the dagger after the map is unrolled" had not yet arrived.

He could leave for a while first.

Mo Hua went to see Linghu Xiao and the others, and said: "I'm going to scout a spot, I may not be back for a few days. You all be careful."

Linghu Xiao looked solemn, and nodded.

Ouyang Mu said: "Senior Brother Mo, take extra care."

Song Jian, though keeping a straight face and saying nothing, suddenly felt a hollow emptiness inside.

When Mo Hua was around, even though he was often hidden and invisible, his heart always felt much more at ease, and there was also dried meat to eat.

But now that Mo Hua had left, he suddenly felt a particular lack of security in his heart.

Song Jian's mood became tangled for a moment.

Mo Hua, however, couldn't be bothered with him, and once again gradually faded his figure, vanishing from sight.

Linghu Xiao and the others exchanged a glance, and felt that with Mo Hua gone, the Myriad Demon Prison seemed to suddenly become "eerie" again.

……

In the Myriad Demon Prison, atop a cell.

Mo Hua gradually revealed his figure.

There were no demon cultivators in sight, only demon beasts bound by enormous chains, lowing and snarling to themselves.

Mo Hua took out the half bone sword and asked: "Which way?"

The half bone sword was silent, showing no response.

Mo Hua threatened: "If you don't make a sound again, I'll scrap you."

From within the sword, a faint, aged voice indeed came through: "Wait… Xiaozu Sect… I'll tell you…"

The voice cut off for a while, then came again.

"…You didn't hear…"

Mo Hua listened with full concentration, and only after a moment realized that the old demon cultivator was indeed speaking, but not exactly "speaking"—it was more like…

"Divine sense transmission."

Mo Hua was slightly startled. "You can use divine sense transmission?"

The old demon cultivator said helplessly, "I'm already dead, without a physical body—it's residual thought-power. So whenever I speak, it's all 'divine sense transmission'…"

"Oh, right." Mo Hua realized.

Then he asked again, "If I don't speak and only use divine sense transmission, can you sense it?"

The old demon cultivator was a bit speechless, but didn't dare call Mo Hua "ignorant," and only said tactfully:

"Xiaozu Sect, you jest. Cultivators below the Liu Yuhua realm are all unable to perform 'divine sense transmission.'"

"Why does one have to reach Liu Yuhua to transmit?" Mo Hua pressed seriously.

"This…" the old demon cultivator said awkwardly, "I'm only at Foundation Establishment, a hundred thousand miles away from the Liu Yuhua realm. The specific reasons here… I'm old and ignorant, I don't really know either…"

"Oh." Mo Hua was a little displeased.

This old thing was a bit half-baked—knew the what but not the why.

But it didn't matter.

"So the situation now is, you can quietly transmit via divine sense, and I can only talk out loud to you?" Mo Hua asked.

"Yes…" the old demon cultivator said softly.

Mo Hua nodded. "Fine then…"

He pointed the white bone broken sword forward and asked once more:

"Which way?"

The white bone broken sword was silent for a while, as if pondering, or perhaps recalling the route. After a moment, the old demon cultivator transmitted to Mo Hua:

"To the right, past the cell of that blood-red wolf demon, the second stone gate, turn right and go inside…"

Mo Hua glanced to the right and nodded.

He concealed his figure once more, preparing to head in the direction the old demon cultivator had indicated.

But just as he took his first step, he suddenly thought of something, shook the white bone broken sword in his hand again, and warned:

"Old thing, don't trick me, or I'll show you what true 'terror' means."

The old demonic cultivator hurriedly said:

"Dare not, dare not…"

For now, at least, it had been frightened by Mo Hua and dared not harbor even the slightest rebellious thought.

And…

The old demonic cultivator whispered: "I don't go by 'old thing'…"

Its voice was faint, but Mo Hua still heard it.

"That's true—you don't go by 'old thing'? Then what do you go by?" Mo Hua asked curiously.

The old demonic cultivator sighed, his expression filled with nostalgia: "Before I became a demonic cultivator, I was a disciple of Tai'e Sect, surname Ouyang, name…"

But as he spoke, Mo Hua paid no attention, muttering to himself:

"Calling you 'old thing' isn't good—it's impolite. I'll give you a nickname; I'm excellent at naming nicknames…"

The old demonic cultivator fell silent.

Mo Hua thought for a moment, then had a flash of inspiration: "You're the Sword Demon, yourself a sword, and made of bones—how about 'Swordbone'?"

The old demonic cultivator nearly thought Mo Hua was calling him "贱骨头"—worthless bones.

It felt a flicker of anger.

Its dignity would not allow it to accept such a humiliating name.

But its courage was insufficient to muster even the slightest protest.

Swordbone… then let it be Swordbone.

The old demonic cultivator accepted the name, and even had to lie to praise Mo Hua:

"A fine name… Young Master is truly a 'master' at naming."

Mo Hua gladly accepted the flattery, then said:

"Lead the way, Swordbone."

The old demonic cultivator, now granted the name "Swordbone" by Mo Hua, helplessly, as if resigned to fate, replied: "Yes…"

Then Swordbone pointed the way.

Mo Hua concealed his presence, releasing his spiritual sense to observe his surroundings while gripping the white bone broken sword, listening to Swordbone's mental transmission as he navigated the labyrinthine Ten Thousand Demons Prison.

The entire Ten Thousand Demons Valley was carved out of the mountain's interior, vast in scale—not only were Shi Dian and stone chambers numerous, but corridors and passageways were densely interwoven, and with demonic cultivators patrolling and crossing paths, one would surely lose direction without knowing the way.

Fortunately, "Swordbone" was ancient and experienced, familiar with the Ten Thousand Demons Valley, and, held tightly by Mo Hua, dared not act out—so along the way he gave his all, and proved reliable.

After walking for an unknown length of time, Mo Hua arrived at a great gate.

The gate loomed majestically, flanked by two colossal stone statues of demonic beasts, carved with ferocious, terrifying demonic patterns.

This was the gate of the Ten Thousand Demons Prison.

Before the gate lay a lock-like array, but it was not particularly sophisticated; the main trouble was the several demonic cultivators guarding it.

"Every six hours, the demonic cultivators change shifts—there's a gap of a dozen breaths…"

"Swordbone" whispered mentally.

But Mo Hua had no patience.

He quietly hid in the shadows and selected a red-furred hyena demonic cultivator.

He had analyzed the Four Symbols demonic pattern of canines, and its corresponding array pivot had been cataloged in his "Four Symbols Demonic Pattern Archive."

Taking the demon off-guard, Mo Hua began to command his spiritual ink with his spiritual sense.

A cluster of spiritual ink floated in midair, coalescing into a thin ink thread, silently slithering and winding until it clung to the demon's leg, forming the Four Symbols Canine Array Pivot.

The demonic cultivator's hide was thick and tough, its senses sluggish.

The hyena demon only felt a faint chill on its leg, and at first paid it no mind.

But by the time it realized the chill was strange, it was too late.

The demonic pattern flared—its demonic energy instantly spiraled out of control; under Mo Hua's manipulation, it reversed course, surging straight toward its crown.

The hyena demonic cultivator's spiritual sense went haywire, its ferocity exploding—it lunged at the several demonic cultivators beside it.

Chaos erupted.

Demonic cultivators slaughtered one another.

Roars and curses mingled, blood splattered the ground.

Mo Hua walked out calmly through the great gate of the Ten Thousand Demons Prison.

"Swordbone," residing within the white bone broken sword, watched all this, its heart turning cold.

It had not noticed at all what method this Xiaozu had used—quietly, without a sound, to make the demonic cultivators lose control and slaughter each other.

These gate-guarding demonic cultivators were no weaklings, yet before this Xiaozu, they were as if mere "toys."

Too terrifying…

Swordbone's secret thoughts diminished a little more.

Beyond the Ten Thousand Demons Prison lay several grand roads.

Mo Hua asked again: "Which road?"

Swordbone trembled: "Left…"

Mo Hua looked up, nodded, and stepped onto the left road.

As they walked deeper, the view grew wider, and Mo Hua grew more astonished.

The Ten Thousand Demons Valley was indeed vast.

The Ten Thousand Demons Prison was only one part of it.

Elsewhere, numerous sinister Daoist structures still stood tall.

These things, if I explore them one by one, will take forever.

Now there's not enough time; he could only skip them all.

After walking a while, the stench of blood suddenly grew overwhelming.

Mo Hua frowned and looked out—before him lay a vast courtyard, densely packed with numerous massive guillotines.

On each guillotine stretched thick chains as thick as a man's waist, and massive guillotine blades driven by arrays stood erected.

At this moment, a bear demon was bound to one guillotine by thick chains.

Once the array activated, the massive blade whistled down, severing the bear demon's head; blood gushed like a spring into the blood pool below.

On other guillotines lay many "headless" beast demons.

At this moment, numerous demon cultivators bustled about, dissecting these beast corpses.

The pelts, bones, skulls, demonic cores, and internal organs were sorted and stored by category.

"This is the slaughterhouse…"

Jian Gutou transmitted his voice.

"Slaughterhouse…"

Mo Hua frowned, silently murmuring to himself.

Jian Gutou added: "This place had no original name—'slaughterhouse' is the term demon cultivators have conventionally adopted; all beast demons captured in the Ten Thousand Demon Prison are gutted here…"

Mo Hua nodded and continued forward.

After another hour's walk, he saw a tower-like structure.

"This is the Demon Refining Vessel," Jian Gutou said.

Mo Hua frowned, lowering his voice: "Isn't this a tower? Why call it a Demon Refining Vessel?"

Jian Gutou replied: "It's said the Demon Refining Vessel is a type of Daoist structure from the southern wilds of Da Huang, shaped like a 'vessel,' forged into a demon tower—both building and spiritual artifact."

Mo Hua looked up and realized the entire tower was sculpted with demonic figures, serpents and jiao dragons coiling layer upon layer, with bulging upper and lower sections narrowing at the middle—indeed resembling a "vessel."

"The naming habits over in Da Huang really are strange…"

Mo Hua muttered silently.

The old demon cultivator Mo Hua had named Jian Gutou fell silent, at a loss for words.

"This tower… this Demon Refining Vessel—have you ever entered it?" Mo Hua asked.

"No," Jian Gutou's tone turned solemn, "I don't know what's inside. Besides, I'm a weapons forger—I forge swords daily, never had the chance to enter the Demon Refining Vessel."

"Alright," Mo Hua nodded, "then let's go around it."

Everything must be weighed by urgency.

The Ten Thousand Demon Valley is too vast; I certainly can't explore it all. If so, better not stir up trouble.

"Lead the way," Mo Hua ordered again.

Jian Gutou obediently continued guiding Mo Hua.

After walking a stretch, they encountered a large expanse of alchemy halls—roughly dozens, by quick estimate.

Inside each alchemy hall stood a white-bone alchemy furnace.

Many demon cultivators were ceaselessly refining demonic pills.

Some beast materials, especially internal organs, were transported here immediately after slaughter, still fresh and dripping blood, refined directly into pills.

Mo Hua frowned, puzzled.

"Why are there so many alchemy halls in the Ten Thousand Demon Valley?"

"Demonic pills? The more, the better—never enough," Jian Gutou said. "After all, there are so many demon cultivators here."

Mo Hua nodded slightly, then asked curiously:

"What about weapons forging? Are you the only weapons forger in this valley?"

Jian Gutou patiently explained: "Pills are consumables; demonic weapons are durable goods—they're different…"

"Moreover, most here are demon cultivators who rely on their own claws and fangs, not demonic weapons. Only those whose demonic arts require demonic weapons to manifest, or sword cultivators who became demons but refused to abandon their sword arts, use such weapons."

"Thus, the demand for demonic weapons is far lower than for demonic pills."

"Besides, I'm not the only demonic weapons forger here—there were a few others before, but they couldn't endure it; one by one, they died."

"Now only I remain…"

"Oh," Mo Hua nodded, suddenly sensing something odd: "Were the other weapons forgers killed by you?"

Jian Gutou chuckled softly: "Not to hide it from Young Master—one weapons forger survives longer here. Once there are more, they lose value."

This Jian Gutou… clearly isn't a good person…

Mo Hua silently thought to himself.

But it didn't matter—after all, they were all weapons forgers who died.

Mo Hua asked again: "This valley has weapons forges and alchemy halls—does it also have places for array engraving?"

Jian Gutou paused, then shook his head and transmitted:

"I don't know—there are almost no array masters among demon cultivators."

"No array masters?" Mo Hua was startled.

Jian Gutou explained: "When demon cultivators enter the demon Dao, their physical bodies grow stronger from demonic energy—but their spiritual sense declines, and their minds become erratic."

"The key to an array master lies in spiritual sense: it must be powerful, and the mind must remain clear."

"With diminished spiritual sense, one cannot engrave arrays; with a confused mind, one gradually forgets array patterns—so array masters among demon cultivators are exceedingly rare…"

Jian Gutou's voice grew somber: "In my centuries of clinging to life in the Ten Thousand Demon Valley, I've seen only a handful."

"The few there were either died early from inability to adapt to demon life, or, after becoming demons, lost their minds and gradually forgot they were ever array masters…"

Mo Hua frowned: "Then where do the arrays in the Ten Thousand Demon Valley come from?"

The Sword Bone dared not speak.

Mo Hua gripped the hilt and slammed it against the ground several times.

The Sword Bone sighed and immediately said, "It's the Leader."

Mo Hua's heart tightened slightly. "Leader? A demonic cultivator of the Jin Dan realm?"

"No, not that," the Sword Bone shook its head. "He's only Foundation Establishment, not yet Jin Dan. Within this Ten Thousand Demons Valley, only three elders are Jin Dan."

"A Foundation Establishment cultivator? On what grounds should he be the leader?" Mo Hua frowned.

The Sword Bone spoke solemnly: "Because every demonic cultivator in the Ten Thousand Demons Valley bears a demonic pattern… painted by the Leader's own hand…"

Mo Hua frowned.

Every demonic cultivator's demonic pattern… painted by this Leader?

That means this Leader holds mastery over nearly every type of Four Symbols demonic array?

And also controls the Divine Path arrays?

Then isn't he… stronger than me?

Could a Foundation Establishment cultivator possess such profound array expertise?

Mo Hua didn't believe it.

Of course, mostly he just resented it.

So far, he had never encountered another array master of his own realm stronger than himself.

"Wait…"

Mo Hua pondered for a moment, then realized something and frowned: "You say every demonic cultivator's demonic pattern was painted by this 'Leader'?"

"But this Ten Thousand Demons Valley has existed for at least several hundred years."

"If this Leader is only Foundation Establishment, how could he have lived so long?"

The Sword Bone shook its head: "This… old servant knows nothing. The Leader here acts with mysterious unpredictability. I've been in this valley for centuries and have only seen him a handful of times—always from afar, never learning his true nature."

"Strange…"

Mo Hua muttered.

This "Leader" must be hiding some secret.

But time was urgent; he couldn't afford to dwell on it now.

The immediate priority was something else…

Mo Hua had no intention of lingering in the Alchemy Chamber, since the pills brewed here were all demonic pills—he'd gain nothing even if he stole or seized them.

"Keep leading," Mo Hua said. "Take me to see that Demon Refining Map."

The Sword Bone felt uneasy.

Especially now, in its "demonic corruption" state, it felt an even greater dread toward the Demon Refining Map.

It warned: "That map is dangerous—best not to approach rashly…"

Mo Hua asked: "How dangerous?"

The Sword Bone opened its mouth to speak, then froze—it suddenly realized the Demon Refining Map was dangerous, but the Xiaozu who held it captive might be no less so.

The Sword Bone sighed.

Fine. Neither of them were good souls.

Fine, take him there.

Better if this wicked Xiaozu died inside the Demon Refining Map—then it could finally be free.

Then it could find a new "Sword Slave," perhaps even turn despair into salvation and escape this hellish place to see the light of day again.

No one would ever dare call it "Sword Bone" again!

A flicker of hope stirred within the Sword Bone.

It became more diligent than ever.

In its eyes, Mo Hua was like a demon.

The Demon Refining Map was a hell.

A demon naturally belonged in hell.

All it had to do now was lead this "demon," Mo Hua, into the Demon Refining Map's "hell"—only then could it find its chance to escape.

"Young Master, follow me. I know this path intimately—there will be no mistake."

said the Sword Bone.

Mo Hua nodded in satisfaction.

Then the Sword Bone led the way, Mo Hua followed, passing dozens of alchemy chambers, crossing several wide stone corridors, avoiding numerous patrolling demonic cultivators, climbing a cliff's edge, and raising his gaze forward.

On the distant cliff face loomed a massive mural, teeming with demonic beasts in chaotic dance—clearly visible.

Mo Hua's spirit trembled involuntarily:

"This is… the Demon Refining Map?!"

(End of Chapter)

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